I walked down the stairs of the Pearl Palace Hotel to check out. I randomly asked how much a bus to Pushkar would be. There was a bus leaving in half an hour that would get me to the holy city in about three hours and cost only 200 Rupees. A private car would have cost more than ten times that. The two-day, all-inclusive Camel trek would have cost that tiny amount many, many times over.
My decision was made in a split-second. Time to cut and run.
I had no interest in discussing outings, tours or treks with anyone anymore. Not with the smiling Raj or any of his many older brothers. I no longer cared if Salim really could do much better - even if he 'understood' me. This entire game was rigged and I would lose no matter what. If I was destined to be had in Rajasthan, I'd rather go it alone.
Jaipur had taught me the complexities of tourist bating in one single sticky afternoon. Nothing happened by accident here. A pleasant conversation with a man in smart slacks was just a long and winding detour to his gem shop. The friendly musician who spoke to me about life, love and family over Chai only offered me a ride in the rains to lead me to a shop selling 'quality' Chai. Even the rickshaw drivers seemed to be in on it. This was individually tailored, low intensity marketing delivered with a human touch. Someone was always there to help you out; and to warn you about the exact thing they themselves were doing. Your friends in the Pink City only suggested such things for your benefit. Just to give you an idea. There was never any pressure to buy.
And then the other tourists would shuffle in. There was no worse feeling than catching the embarrassed look of fellow foreigners as they walked into the same broad trap. The moment of recognition was an intensely personal one. You lowered your gaze and avoided eye contact. Each was left to fight their own battles.
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