Beware monkey business on the streets of Delhi.Credit: AFP
Maria Visconti steps into an elaborate scam in India that's definitely on the nose.
'Y ou have shit on your shoe, Sirrah. I will clean," a voice offers at the traffic lights where we stand. This is different from all other offers of taxis, tuk-tuks and invitations to "visit my shop". Something tells us not to ignore it. We lower our eyes simultaneously and in slow motion towards our feet.
The cacophony of traffic turns into frozen silence and we gasp at the sight of a well formed turd resting neatly on my partner's shoe.
"It's monkey shit, Sir.""But there are no monkeys in New Delhi," I hear myself wail in disbelief. I'm having an out-of-body experience; after all, this is Connaught Place, the pulsating business centre of New Delhi.
"Ooooh, yes, there are Madam ... Many. Many monkeys!"
I know this is a trick and I expect my partner to be pick-pocketed by an accomplice (as happened in Paris in a similar but not simian setup). I am for upping the pace and getting out of here. Fast.
The victim, however, wishes nothing more than to be relieved of the offending parcel whether it's been delivered by a phantom monkey or a real one. He is ushered to a curb and invited to sit with a courtly flourish.
I keep an eye out for accomplices but none materialise. Men in business suits carrying laptops pass by. Crouching on the curb we seem invisible to all. Once the job is done, the man beams: "1000 rupees, Sir!"
He is demanding the equivalent of $30. "What?" we intone in unison. "Just kidding," he says and quotes what we work out to be $10. We take our leave, pressing a bunch of rupees in his hand. He obviously has an associate who manufactures and skilfully delivers the offending droppings.
You have to give credit to the inventiveness of con-artists exploiting an existent trend. Contrary to what I'd thought, monkeys are a real problem in Delhi.
If you think this is typical India, think again. After this urban incident (which, minus the charm, could have happened anywhere), I walk into the vibrant Oxford Bookstore. The introduction to Inhaling The Mahatma by Australian Christopher Kremmer grabs my attention and I'm hooked.
He says: "One in six people on our planet is an Indian and the nation they inhabit is conducting the world's largest and most important experiment in democracy ...
"In 1947, the average Indian had a life expectancy of 32 years and only one in five people could read or write; today's Indian lives twice as long on average, is better off than ever and two out of every three people are literate. India's IT boom has buried its image as a timeless, caste-ridden place teeming with paupers, snake charmers and maharajas.
"The world is doing yoga, wearing pashminas and reading Indian authors, not to mention enjoying spicy Indian cuisine and being entertained by the pulsating output of the Bollywood cinema".
I walk out of the bookstore clutching a copy while keeping a wary eye for monkeys.
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