Traveller's tale: a taste for the real India

An Indian musician with a splendid moustache plays a sarangi, an Indian folk fiddle, outside the Resort Motel. He wears a traditional outfit: a Rajasthani turban and a crisp white kurta and pyjama. He sings several stanzas before stopping and patting the low wall beside him.

We know the drill by now; this is my cue to sit with him so my husband can take our picture. Money will then change hands.

The motel is between Agra and Jaipur. Earlier in the day we viewed the splendour of the Taj Mahal, then visited Agra's second World Heritage site, Fatehpur Sikri, the deserted palace built by Akbar. Now we'll find some lunch and lessons in Indian culture and cuisine.

After the photo opportunity, it's into the rest room to tidy up. The female attendant precedes me into the cubicle to ensure everything is to my satisfaction. Before I leave, she tells me earnestly she has a husband and school-age children. More money changes hands.

Once inside the Resort Motel's restaurant, we are shown to our table with its colourful oilcloth cover. We stare with bewilderment at the extensive menu. The young man waiting on us notes our confusion and is anxious to advise. He suggests we choose thali. As it is a warm day, my husband orders a tall bottle of Kingfisher beer and two glasses.

I wander off to look at the stalls selling trinkets while our waiter returns with the beer. He admonishes my husband for asking for a glass for me. "In India, ladies do not drink beer," he is told.

I return to the table as the thali arrives. Thali, a Hindi word meaning plate, is a selection of small dishes served on a steel tray with a number of shallow compartments filled with dhal markhani, aloo gobi, palak paneer and more. We tear pieces of chapati with our hands and use them to scoop up the curries. We also have a dish of mango pickle.

Real Indian pickle is not your refined chopped fruit and vegetable in syrup; this is wickedly hot and contains large pieces of roughly chopped mango seeds.