‘You’re so friendly,’ said Umme Honey, the Oberoi’s airport rep, ‘most tourists are very quiet.’

I mention Ms. Honey just because I like her name. Umme, honey. Kinda sexy.

‘That’s because they’re scared,’ I replied. ‘they think you’ll eat them.’

She blinked. I smiled broadly to assure her that I wasn’t a complete lunatic.

She nodded enthusiastically – but then, I had the feeling that was her job.

‘They think if you touch a bit of India they’ll die.’ Some do.

I’m not scared of India. I’m more scared in down-town Melbourne on a Saturday night.

But, as it turns out, I do talk to everybody. It’s apparently very unusual. They notice. They remember - not just the ones who are PAID to remember, not just the ones who are PAID to be nice – but all of them.

I went out for a walk round my favorite block in the entire world. The wrought-iron gates clanged behind me. I hadn’t gone ten feet before it began.

‘Hey, you came back!’

‘Hey, Austraya-a-a-a!’

‘I know you!’

If ever a place is pure karma it’s India. They give it straight back to you – double. They remember everything about you. Well, maybe not everyone – but they sure remember me.

‘You know me,’ I say, shaking their hand, ‘everything is business – don’t waste your time.’

So they don’t.

It’s taken me a long time in Kolkata to achieve that simple feat. Even the beggar children just say ‘Hi Uncle!’ and move on.

I had a Jimmy call to make.

Supplies.

But that’s another adventure.

Welcome to Kolkata.

I needed my laugh for the day! Happy Travels!

And welcome back to blogging live from India!

Ah, a new tale! Thanks for getting us started on your new adventure.

Yay! You're there! Can't want for more...

Hey - another dogster saga - fun time.

[Can I interrupt to ask a question? Are the cheaper places, the Fairlawn, for instance, also surrounded with new defenses?]

Sigh. I hate not being able to edit. Should have said, "can't wait for more". On the other hand, what more could I want either, but a new Dogster tale?

You're right, Kristina, the phrase "can't want for more" is appropriate here too...afterall, with writing style like this, it's almost as if it's a movie...
I will be watching ( and waiting) for more, even as I contemplate going out in the 22 degree weather here.

Please interrupt all you like thursday - and anyone else.

Despite my periodic dogologues it's a conversation - not a speech. I'll go check the Fairlawn tomorrow if Maha Shivratri doesn't get in the way. Or this lag. Somehow I think Sudder Street will be just the same. Everybody I've met on the street today says they have noticed a big downturn in tourists - Oberoi guys say a slump was on in Jan/Feb but now it's kicking back into gear in March. Too early to get my eyes around it.

Slumdog Millionaire is all over the news in anticipation. It would be simply great if it won Best Picture. For India.

Now I gotta sleep. I really want to hit the ghats early tomorrow if I have energy. If I was smart I'd go now [midnight here] but I'm fading fast. Gawd, I love this town.

Thanks. I thought Sudder Street might be in your plans. But I had to look up Maha Shivratri - seems you should be fasting...

Great to hear from you Dogster. I think India's on my next trip list thanks to you. Let me know how some of those 600-baht-tip-equivalent massages go over there, lol.

Looking forward to more...

Hi Dogster, so happy I found your post here! (it's been a tough week adjusting to the new forums, but it's getting all better now).

Dogster--You are there for Maha Shivratri--day of fasting!
Wondering what all you have eaten or did you follow the rules and not eat until evening.
Remember Kolkata has the best rosgullas. Definitely try some if you haven't.
My mouth waters for the freshly made rosgullas. You are lucky Dogster.
We are waiting for the Oscars and hoping that Slumdog Millionair wins a big one.
All work will stop and all eyes will be focused on the Oscars tonight.
The young cast from the Mumbai slums are supposed to be attending the grand affair.
Do report what you are seeing first hand about Slumdog's nomination/win.
Have a good rest tonight, so you are charged up to find some hidden corners of Kolkata for all of us sitting thousands of miles away.

Dog - thanks for doing your part to stimulate the world economy. Jeane and I did our part by finally going to see Slumdog (any relation?). We're also rooting for a win at the Oscars tonight.

Can't wait to read what else the dog will tap out!

Ileen is right! Bengali sweets are the best, especially Rasgulla and Rasmalai. Please have some for us and let us know how wonderfully delicious they were!

Slumdog Millionaire won Oscars in a big way. So Dogster eat a plateful of Rasgullas. You celebrate for all of us here.
In India any celebration calls for eating sweets especially a laddu or rasgulla. You are in a city of Rasgulla--go for them!
Please report how this big Oscar win is being celebrated by Kolkata natives.
Have a great day exploring.

Are you sure your reception wasn't because you were the only guest at the hotel? That would have been my first assumption.

Oh you mongrel, what a wonderful balm to the economic crisis, bushfire disaster and aborted travel plans.

I will be 'hanging on the lips of the speaker' all the way!
And I so hope you will visit your special family with the 'tummy sick' mum, the bright photographer little tyke, and the sad, sad demise of older brother.

Thanks for the therapy, dogs rule!

To watch Indian television you'd think the population was out dancing in the streets at the triumph of 'Slumdog Millionaire'.

Alas - it ain't so. Kolkata appears to be unmoved. Too busy being Kolkata. The greatest show on earth continues unabated. I wander out - but I'm now a local. Cruising thru - visible and occasionally invisible, lost and then occasionally found.

I've just come back from a tea-party in a cupboard somewhere deep in the New Market.

'Hey! Come, come.'

Jimmy's come in all shapes and sizes but they are all in their early twenties with a fine career in finance ahead of them.

'I have something, quick, quick, come!'

Before I know it I'm in the cupboard. Jimmy #1 has passed me to Jimmy #2 who has taken me to Jimmy #3's shop. Jimmy #4 is waiting in the cupboard. He's just back from Afghanisthan. He wanted to show me his duty-free merchandise.

Enough charas to have me arrested for 500 years is piled on the floor in front of me, together with a description of provenance. Apparently the charas oil is scraped from the skin of Afghani virgins after a few naked laps through the ganja fields. I bet you didn't know that.

Charas, like Jimmy, comes in all shapes and sizes. It's just as well I've left childish habits behind. I might have been tempted.

So the old hippy stumbled back to the Oberoi. I came the long way round, via Sudder Street. I have to report that security is obviously just for the 5 star tourist; backpackers can be gunned down with impunity. Given the look of some of them today I'd say that mightn't be a bad idea.

The Fairlawn hasn't been closed by the health authorities yet.

I chatted to the concierge. What is this Maha Shivaratri? Where is it? Can I go see? Vrooomph, I'm in a yellow taxi heading I truly know not where. I'm dumped somewhere in front of a tiny temple in the middle of the road. There's a tiny crowd at the tiny temple. They are thronging to something but I can't really see. A tiny crowd in India can throng along with the best of them. 10 rupees, a smile and a bit of wiggling got me a front row perch - but there was nothing much to see. Just a line of hungry ladies pouring milk over Shiva's willy.

My word, Shiva's dick gets a lot of attention in India.

I wish I was Shiva.

Google 'lingham' if you're confused.

In Maheshwar they call it 'Shiv-ling' - short for Shiva Lingham. I like 'Shivling' very much. Men have been naming their genitalia for thousands of years. Maybe Shiva started the fashion.

My mother christened mine. Alas, it's been so long now, I've forgotten his name.

The jet-lag that has laid me so low is lifting. I'd built in this 6 day stop as my way of adjusting slowly. I'm sure glad I did. This time it has floored me. Slowly, slowly, I emerge from the fog - not just of fatigue but of all the psychological oddities that come with it. Paranoia, forgetfullness, random dyslexia on names, dates and places - confusion. Remember, I'm on my own - I ain't got anybody to snap me out of it. Gotta be a self-starter. Well, finally I've started. I appear to have regained what little sanity is left to me.

Tonight, dinner at Aheli, if I can make it till 7.00 p.m. My stomach is still stressed. It's more a time for scrambled eggs and tomato soup than West Bengali haute cuisine. But Aheli is a big time fave. I'm not sure how long I can hold out till I sink into that thali.

But Jimmy and the cupboard might have led me astray.

Get thee behind me, Jimmy.

Damn - too late.

I'll just have a little lie down.

I do apologise for all this banality. I'll try to conjure up something profound tomorrow. Or not. Plans have been made.

www.calcuttawalks.com

I'm off with Ifte. Again. For those now utterly confused, I can only refer you to 'Dogster: Bumbling thru Kolkata' - which may, or may not, have this URL:

http://www.fodors.com/community/asia/dogster-bumbling-thru-kolkata.cfm

Stories like those are what this blog will eventually become. You're getting the mongrel version.

Ifte's instructions for tomorrow are simple: 'You know what I like - take me anywhere you want.' That'll be a test for the young sausage. After his previous experiences with me he suggested I lead the tour and he follow - but I demurred. That would be silly.

They are quite an outfit, these lads. New breed Indian youth, get up and GO. It's great to see. Just like it was great to see 'Slumdog' win. Same same. All the energy of India, all the energy of youth, the future bright and beaming.

How come I don't get that feeling in Australia? How come I look at British youth and want to weep? Am I truly that old, that curmudgeonly, that out of touch? Probably.

Jimmy and his entreprenurial brothers have more spirit than the lot of 'em. It's a pity they're career criminals. But then, so was Bernie Madoff. Same same.

Somehow, I'd rather have Jimmy than Bernie as my Slumdog Billionaire.

Oh, HOW you do make me homesick for India. And I never thought I would be. Travel on!

Do you think that there's a school or training program for Jimmys? Is the Dogster the ongoing guest lecturer?

lol gpanda - I've met so many of them I'm an expert. I'm just back, reeling, from another foray in the streets. I'm not sure this one is publishable. Things are getting quite extreme.

I'm slumdogging it. Tomorrow I'll make some feeble attempt to get out of the gutter. But then, do you REALLY want a tourist description of the Victoria Memorial? Probably not.

I've just realised I've been to Kolkata five times and I still haven't looked at the Victoria Memorial - nor paid ANY attention to the Raj. Which must say something.

Ignorance is bliss. Pig-ignorance is better.

dogster - glad the fog is lifting (is another one descending?)

I thought the security would be only 5-star deep, but of course, it's usually the 5-stars that get bombed - although Mumbai train station got hit badly too. For some reason that didn't get the press attention the hotels did...

"The Fairlawn hasn't been closed by the health authorities yet. " Lol. In Kolkata?? I'd stay there again, it was a fun place on a lively street, just skip the meals, most likely.

Don't get stuck in any cupboards.

I'm following along on your Calcutta walks even before you get the Jimmy to go along.

Professor Dogster will be lecturing on the art of Jimmyhood. Graduate students can take a seminar on the similarities and differences between Jimmy's and Sancho Panza. For extra credit, Dr. Watson and Archie Goodwin will be considered.

Can't you just hear the Dogster:

Elemental, my Dear Jimmy.

Dogster- That blond and red "charas" was a favorite of mine back in the day...those days are light-years behind me! Thai-stick was another, ironically, lol.

Glad you have had a "suitable" reception Doggie. Maybe you left Oz with a bit of something extra - or acquired it on the plane - maybe its not all normal jet lag. Anyway hope you get right on top of it soon and back in full "Dogster" mode. Really looking forward to hearing more as usual.

Don't go to that Victoria Memorial - why spoil your near perfect record of not visiting any of the normal sights.

lol Mary - yup, it does seem like I avoid the obvious, doesn't it? If I do that stuff, I tend not to write about it... not because these things are not worthy, but I just can't think of anything to say that hasn't been said before, I guess. Indian tourist sites, like everywhere, tend to be arid, dead things of great beauty. All you can do is attempt to look at them - that's if you can shake off the plague of touts surrounding you. As we all know, sometimes the touts destroy the site.

I like my temples to be LIVING things. I've discovered a real antipathy for those archeological sites where you look at a piece of crumbling masonry of little aesthetic note while a guide drones on about history that you neither care about, nor listen to. Of course, WITHOUT the guide, the place is even more dreary.

I show my ignorance here, I guess - but, hey, what's new? What I'm looking for is beauty - not history. I can't take history IN when I'm traveling - but I can appreciate beauty.

'...in the eye of the beholder' - they say. The more I stay in India the more the scales fall from my increasingly bloodshot eyes; layer after layer after layer - leading to peace, I hope, through the tumult. I'm starting to see.

Or NOT see, as the case may be. I don't see the filth, smell the urine, hear the shouting, I don't see the poverty, the beggars and the touts - what I SEE is pure spirit, pure life-force, pure energy.

India hasn't changed. The change is in me.

So, here I am in Kolkata, walking down familiar streets with unfamiliar confidence. There must be a walk, a look, an attitude that I've acquired; it's no longer a drama starring me.

Having said that, having tempted fate, I'll wait till this afternoon's catastrophy befalls me, whatever it happens to be. Because the other thing I've learnt about India is that I don't know ANYTHING at all.

Your way of seeing sounds good to me - stick with it and well, grow with it too.

you do so much better than do i....i rarely have more than two managers greet me, and no associates

What is the latest catastrophe??? I can't wait to hear-the energy of India is in your writing.

Thank you for stating the extremely obvious, shubhransu.

Now how about you stop using this forum to flog your crap travel agency, eh?

lmao

Guys, I'm not dead or locked in a cupboard - but I confess I'm having a bit of a crisis of confidence.

Does anybody else have the feeling that there are only about 10 of us in here? The Asia Board is moving SO slowly now, averaging two - yes, two - posts an hour, that frankly, I can't see the point of posting.

It's a fair chunk outta the day trying to absorb AND write, I've realised. Kolkata ain't Siem Reap - it's way more complex. If I'm honest, in my conceit, I think I need a bit more bang for my buck. You guys are amazingly supportive and kind but I think I'll just store it up and pour it out later, when/if the board turns around. It's just pissing in the wind otherwise.

So long as you DO eventually post, I'm willing to wait. I know that I've found writing on the road can be a bit much (but I do keep a journal) and I don't hang out with Jimmies. But how much audience do you need? Ten is twice as many as I still seem to have reading my Morocco TR, lol!

I have noticed a slow down here on the Asia Forum too, although I don't know why. This was even BEFORE the change in Fodor's last week.

Sometimes I read, but don't post so maybe there are others doing the same but to a larger extent?

HEY YOU ALL OUT THERE...if you're reading this speak up!

We're here in cyberspace reading and waiting for more! Please, the show must go on...

So it's not just me. Not only is it slow, but it seems like a lot of the newbies are a lot more... green? Clueless? Rude? What's the right word?

Don't worry, Dog - we are all here, silently lurking...

I started a thread yesterday with a Vietnam question and received 7 responses from all of the usual suspects within about 6 hours.

KEEP IT COMING.

Sigh. I just wrote you a long post and when I clicked on "submit" it disappeared into the mist.

Please continue. We are here, patiently waiting.

Just wondering about your writing process...do you travel with a laptop and write in your room? Use hotel computers? Internet cafes? Personally, I'm finding it harder and harder to write while traveling so most it waits until I get home.

Yo Dogster, sounds like you're feeling that your writing is becoming a bit like...well...work. Writing for an audience more than for enjoyment now ? Been there and done that, right ?

Seems to me you no longer travel alone, mate. Yup, you're taking all of us along with you. Its your time...your adventure man. If ya want company somewhere along the way we're here for you.

Hey Dogster. I've just been lurking in the background, reading you for a while now. Even though India is not on my hot list of places to visit, your writing sparks my interest. Any time I see 'Dogster' on the subject list, it is the first item I click on, have to know what you are up to now.
Please keep writing.

Hello Doggie, I confess I have been reading but not writing! But I can detect that you are imho suffering from lack of suitable refreshment, so I'm sending you a bottle of the finest Sauv.Blanc now that should cheer you up hic hic, oops sorry all gone! Waiting behind the cupboard door for more.....

Dogster, I've also noticed that this board is slower than usual. I don't know whther it is the format change or if most of the regulars are out on the road or what.

I'll look forward to your report whenever you choose to write it.

I'm lurking here too.... Same as Danmango, when I see your name I dive in to see what's new. I can wait in anticipation of your next post, but please don't stop!

Well, I nearly fell off my chair when I logged in to see all those responses. I don't quite know where to begin - other than to say thank-you. I'm kinda shocked. Remember, I'm out here on my own. Life on the road in India, for me anyway, is pretty strange - not bad strange - but strange, just the same. So I'm prone to psychological oddity. I'm also aware that when I launch into Jimmy's and cupboards and piles of charas that I'm skating on thin Fodor's ice. I thought you were all a bit appalled.

Becalm, my spitual advisor from I know not where, has popped up in my moment of crisis. He opens up an interesting topic: am I doing this for me or you? It all started with Bhutan.
Just over a year ago Jules 39 asked me a question. What poured out was therapy. I was writing that for ME.

What also poured out was a whole lotta love. From you. That spurred me on into Dogster: The Great Stumble Forward: India. About a million words later I was starting to work out how to write. This is only 7 months ago. There have been a lot of stories since then. None of them would have occurred without you guys.

Yes, you compliment me, [although, I do recall the brief appearance of a post entitled 'Dogster: Trash!!!', which I kinda liked] - but actually, more to the point, you inform me.

As you know, I've left my previous life behind - in a pretty extreme way - but the dynamics of an audience are something I know quite a lot about. When they go quiet, I'm in trouble.

So, I guess, once I got into my stride, I've been writing for you AND me. I don't think the two things are mutually exclusive. Without your responses none of this would have occurred. I used you, accidentally, to try out my new skill. Bless you all, you have been subjected to some terrible writing on the way. Repetition, rambling, obfuscation - sometimes I didn't work out what the point of the story was till after I'd written it. Too late - it was on the net.

You taught me stuff: Gpanda, for instance in a minor aside, taught me that I really didn't need to put EMPHASIS on EVERY word. lol. That was a huge lesson. Writing for Fodor's meant that had to cut all the obscenities out - and most of the more prurient sexual matters. I discovered I didn't need them. That was a huge lesson, too. I could go on. Writing for you guys - none of whom I know, remember - has given me a real feel for what works and what doesn't.

Yup, I want more than ten readers thursday; of course - just like all of us. In my previous life the phrase 'total world domination' was not an unreasonable goal. I learnt that from a rich, stupid young man. He made me rich and stupid too. Alas, he didn't make me young.

You make me richer. And smarter. So I travel and try and make stories for strangers. It's not very different from before. My friends certainly aren't interested. I know my stories - but I confess, I seem to have a need to share. So, yes, I would love readers - but the task is way more complex than that. I want what I write to be really good as well. That's for me AND you. Is it hard work? Yes. Do I enjoy it? Totally.

It's your energy that I feed off. You don't really know it - but YOU are the rocket-fuel.

But on the road, it really is hard. Like all things, the greatest revelations are not always easily available on the spot. They need reflection, digestion, amplification - and most of all, editing. The problem is, I've discovered, the process eats up the very adventure I'm here to have.

Of course I'll be posting when I can. And properly after.In two days I'm outta here, off to Mumbai. Not long after that I'm somewhere on the border of Madhya Pradesh and Gujarat. I don't think there'll be many postings from there - not of consequence anyway. Doggie will be dancing with the Tribals. He'll swap his Jimmy's for sadhus. The end result is much the same. Dogster, crazed, out of it, somewhere ridiculous, sitting in the dirt.

Perhaps tomorrow's adventure will be interesting. I'm off to spend an afternoon with the Hijra. Google that.

Give us crumbs or banquets, whatever your fancy, but do take us with you. We're here, always anxious to get a whiff of the dog's life. And don't agree to anything this afternoon that you might regret...

I am here, too, silently waiting for another scrumptious morsel from the Dog's dish.

Googled that. Prep reading done. Await the dogster narrative that will surely breathe life into inert Google text.

Suit yourself as to timetable -- it is your time away to savor, hoard, squander, share exactly as you wish. Do consider though that the audience that is subdued unto near silence may be the audience that is most attentive and most moved.

Aaah, just relax & let it flow when the time is right, as the old monk said to the novice; perhaps lighten up on the charras just a tad for a moment, too much indulgence after a lay off can be a bit oppressive sometimes for us old fellas, at least until you're back into the groove...

I'm just so excited 'cos we're launching our own mini-India expedition tomorrow night, 3 all-too-brief weeks, yipeee! We're IT luddites & thus not carrying a lap-top round India, but I'm looking forward to diving into the odd cafe or two & catching up on your musings & outrageous rantings, what a refreshing take on travel! If mine host in Sikkim has any dirt to dish on the dogdays, needless to say they will remain absolutely confidential to this correspondent - unless the media tempts me with a suitable inducement. Go guy, dance the night away at the durbars - tell us when you're ready. Meanwhile, I'm not gonna sleep tonight. Delhi/Amritsar/Darjeeling/Sikkim/Goa/Mumbai here we come.

THANKS EVERYONE for replying to my shout out.

It would be a very sad day if Dogster stopped posting here!

/\ This

Hi Doggie - had the day working away yesterday so missed you. I think you should just enjoy and experience things exactly how you feel at the time. I love your stories as you know and I look forward to them - always check first thing to see if there is anything (at all) from you. However I'm more than happy to wait until you think the time is right for you to post. If we have to wait until you are back and have got it all worked out then thats just fine with me - even if its going to be a long time. One has to wait for a great production after all.

Only thing I'd like is the occasional bark from you so I know you are safe and still out there - otherwise who knows what I'll think might have happened to you. That may be rather presumptuous but I like to think we can all watch over you in some way. You are too important to all of us on this board to lose.

Enjoy all those upcoming festivals.

Mary

I get a chuckle when AskOksena refers to the "HK Lawyer".

I know who he means (I won't spoil it yet).

MINI CONTEST: Who else does?

Cicerone, of course. Now, if you are really clever, you'll know why she chose her particular screen name...

Craig Wins! (prize TBD)

I will guess she chose it because it means a person who is a guide.

Am I right???

Dogster-I feel honored by your kind words. Thank you.

Your narrative gift combined with your contemplative musings put you at the top of us humble Fodors posters. I can assure you that your audience is huge. There are many more lurkers than posters. Fret not, your adoring public awaits.

Not to mention that your lack of self-consciousness is an essential element of your stories. Dogster rushes in where wise men fear to tred.

When I'm posting in real time on a trip, I just report what springs quickly to mind. After I return, I add whatever passes for thought to the thread.

Dogster says: "Yup, I want more than ten readers thursday; of course - just like all of us. In my previous life the phrase 'total world domination' was not an unreasonable goal."

Ah! Perhaps dogster's real agenda with this report is to have the thread with the most responses. He's competing against Eks and her 364 responses to her year-long trip report (the report is a year-long, not the trip) and the mythical Lynn and her Thailand trip report that chalked up over 600 responses, most of which said "send me a copy of your trip report" and gave no email address!

Keep it coming!

Mr. Dogster has left us enough clues to feed to Mr. Google to understand what he means...

Yes, he often leaves bread crumbs that lead to Google - Ms./Mr. Google, perhaps.

Spiritual adviser? Ha! ...Hardly (I wish)

Sounds like you got it sorted.....knew you would.
We've got everything floating around inside - just got to get it to come to the surface. When your feelings pour out through your words like they just did, just can't get the smile off my face.

A little somethin' for your road trip.....

"Sometimes the lights all shining on me
Other times I can barely see
Lately it occurs to me
What a long strange trip it's been"

"Some trails are happy ones,
Others are blue.
It's the way you ride the trail that counts,
Here's a happy one for you."

Happy trails my friend.

And as I lay on the divan last night watching a repeat on SBS of a travel show on Delhi , which I might add was very good , and wished I was back there in a trishaw up popped this to keep me happy .

I lurk , I post ( occasionally ) therefore I am .

Thankyou Dogster - from Melbourne . And as for the clues to past lives and the state of your head , crotch and stomach - please bait me a little more .

Well, I'm a lucky Dog.

Here's some 'Thank You.'

I only have time to post then run out to my eunuchs.

I’m a slut for shaving. – but things can very easily get out of hand.

‘What are you looking for?’

‘Plastic surgery,’ I said, running my fingers down the stubble on my cheek.

‘Ahhh, come with me.’

Just a few yards away from the new concrete public urinals in New Market is a pod of hairdressers. Each lives in a cupboard. I chose the oldest and ugliest on the assumption that he might know what he was doing. He did. The shave was good – well, kinda. New blade, all the Jillet Fome [sic] I needed, he was an expert. Trouble is, he wouldn’t stop.

As part of Indian shaving, whenever you get too frisky, you get a blast in the face from a water spray. Blinded. Before I knew it Dog was slapped with a face full of cream. Face bleaching cream. I was dutifully bleached. Sprayed and blinded again. The bleaching cream crept into each eye. He did an eye massage. Round and round the eye-bulbs went those gnarled fingers, round and round and round – then they crept up to my eyebrows.

With no warning he cut them off. Snip, snip – no eyebrows.

While he had the scissors out he cut my hair. Did want a haircut? No – but he blind-sided me. I was squirted into submission. I kept my knees crossed – I could tell he was on a mission. Dog’s scraggy pubes were under threat. He was going to remove every hair from my body.

Now I look a bit like a bleached parrot.

‘Massage?’ he said brightly.

‘Sure,’ I said stupidly.

‘Full-body massage?’

I won’t bother you with the next thirty minutes. Dick the Snip vanished in a flash, leaving me alone in the chair.

‘Wha…?’

‘He’s gone off to find a room.’

By now most of New Market is staring at the bleached blind parrot in the barber’s chair. All of this is happening in front of a passing parade of shoppers. Time goes by. Dick Snip returns, flushed but happy.

‘Come, come…’

So off we go, threading out way through flooding from a burst water main, past Biblical scenes of urban poverty. There’s a greasy fat man with eyebrow piercings; a red T shirt with diamante stars and a leer bigger than Kolkata.

‘MMMMMasssage, eh?’

‘Yup,’ I said blithely and looked over at Dick Snip, ‘just a massage.’

Dick Snip was not the kind of man one would willingly want to prod in a guest-house deep down an alley in Kolkata. He was sixty and fat, smelled faintly of lard. All I cared about was his magic fingers and the pain in my leg I’d been putting up with for days. There is no subtext, I can assure you – we haven’t reached that point of desperation just yet. Kill me when I do.

The diamante queen believed me. One look at Dick Snip and he knew.

He climbed the stairs ahead of me, swaying his fat arse luridly as he talked over his shoulder. Now I know what the Black Hole of Kolkata looks like.

‘You give me bakshish, later,’ he said.

‘I don’t think so,’ I said, staring at the ascending bum. Dick Snip was bringing up the rear.
It was a Dogster sandwich on the stairs.

Another lengthy drama as the room was acquired. I stayed sanguine as a battle in Hindi roared around me. You don’t need to know. Luckily my masseur was so ugly, prurient alarm was soon dismissed. With a flounce and a final glint of his diamante T-shirt the pierced poove closed the door. But not before he ran over and kissed me.

‘You – me,’ he simpered. ‘Bakshe-e-e-esh.’

‘You’re so beautiful,’ I lied, ‘but I’m old. My dick has fallen off.’

He pulled a face.

‘We’ll see-e-e-e-e-e,’ he said.

He didn’t.

Mr. Snip and I were alone in the room. Eight dollars a day gets you a perfectly clean, acceptable backpacker room. I didn’t notice any rats, cockroaches or stains on the sheets. It was Dick Snip, me and television set.

I don’t think Dick had ever seen a television before. He knelt on the bed, half-heartedly squeezing me into custard while he watched the cricket. His massage skills were zero. In fact, it was such a terrible massage, in such strange conditions, that I let it continue, entirely so I could tell this story. I’d come this far, I thought – why not just submit. Not that I had much choice.

‘He’s out!’

Who know who was playing who – but every wicket that fell was agony. Snip’s fingers would freeze, then dig in to what was left of my leg with a passion that only an Indian cricket fanatic could understand.

Then he discovered the miracle of the remote control. One skinny arm was massaged for at least a hundred years as with one hand he explored all 400 cable television channels and with the other squeezed my arm. There was no oil, of course. He rubbed the skin off.

Yes, I could have said, ‘hey, pal…’ but I didn’t, only stopping the show when blood started to drip out of my eyes. He may have looked at me a couple of times during the two hours but I doubt it. I understand. Dog splayed out in his Calvin Kleins is not a pretty sight.

It was hot, he was sweating. He scratched his soggy arm pit enthusiastically then put his hand back on my leg. Mmmm – a sweat massage. Mmmmm - juicy.

Drip, drip goes Dick Snip, drip, drip – on Dog.

He rolled me over and did something lethal to my back.

‘Argh-h-h-h! Stop!’

‘O.K.’ he said, then did it again.

Massage, for Dick Snip, was squeezing. He squeezed me.

He squeezed me up and he squeezed me down, then he squeezed my head. I could feel my eyes popping out. He poked them back in their sockets.

Then he tried to tear off my toes.

Click, click, click went my toes.

‘Ow, ow, ow,’ went their owner.

They stayed attached – but they’re much longer now. Like my fingers.

‘Clean-bowled!’ cried the announcer on the television.

‘Yeee-owch!’ cried the Dog on the bed.

Two fists crunched into my back. He was trying to snap my spinal chord.

All this time he’s staring at the television, savagely squeezing me sideways. Eventually there was only one thing left to squeeze.

‘Mmm?’ he grunted, pointing at the empty space where my willy used to be.

Horrible.

‘Finish now,’ I said brightly and leapt to my feet, ‘finish now, very good! I paid him and left.

I passed a diamente stomach, poking up in the air like a vast red balloon. Its owner was fast asleep on the couch, snorting and heaving in his dreams like the mud pools of Rotorua. Dick Snip skipped gaily off through the Market, the richest man in Kolkata. I hobbled a few hundred yards then sat, squeezed out, on a step.

In three or four days I’ll be able to walk again. I’ve been admiring my new toes.

A long- toe bleached parrot indeed - don't see many of them around here.

I feel privileged - after MaryW - to be the second person in the world to read the latest missive .

Just wait til the sun rises in the USA and the regulars get to read this over their coffee and waffles !Luckily it is late in Melbourne and I ate some hours ago .

And how was the Victoria monument ?

The image I got reading Dogsters last post was hysterical. A canine version of a bleached blind parrot. Sort of a mangled Griffin. Of course, he's leaning slightly to one side as he stumbles forward, ever forward.

On another note, Dogster's past incarnations are his to keep or share. It's the current iteration that delights.

Yup, JohnF, we get first bite of the cherry!

And oh, it was good. A slightly over-ripe but exceptionally juicy morsel, we can but implore for more.

Whoever heard of eating just one cherry?

Sounds like a masochistic parrot.

I should warn anyone wanting a massage in India: a) most, if not all of the street masseuses, have no professional training (I'm not including the upscale spas here), and b) they believe pain = good quality service.

You have to set the ground rules before they begin the massage that they have to go easy on you otherwise you will leave and not pay them.

Thank you, thank you for a warm chapter on another snowy morning in Seattle.

Thanks!

Hey guys. Glad you like. The above just popped out accidentally this early afternoon. By the time I got back tonight I'd forgotten I'd written it. Pure first draft so bear with the shoddy prose.

A lot has happened since then.

Right now, I'm in a state of shock - just back from one of my most extraordinary adventures. I've wiped out another Bongo. He left confused and shaking, spun right off his axis. I don't blame him. This was extreme - even Dogster's battered soul crumbled by the end of it. The more I think about it, the more disturbing it gets. In fact, I'd better stop thinking, right now, for fear my soul will bleed.

I'll tell you about it later. There won't be many jokes.

Really fun reading dogster. Thanks so much for taking us along on your adventures! You are a fabulous writer -- we adore you and await the next installment!

Never did a massage cause such pain to so many. Ouch.

I mourn the loss of your eyebrows. Don't fret. They'll grow back a lot faster than your spinal column would have mended.

Thanks for taking time out of your spiral to throw us a flare now and then. You know how we worry.

Good to hear from you Dogster. Your posts are starting to have an "Apocalypse Now" feeling to them. Hope you're enjoying yourself.

I think I figured out your true identity. You ARE Slumdog! (Not so sure about the millionaire part.)

Some things just suddenly make sense. Your arrival, as you described it, is much like mine in Rome.

Jai Ho,
BC

Another Bongo Bites the Dust.

Monestary Bongo is still my favorite with all the monks running their errands using the dogmobile.

I'm taking a day off to collect my thoughts. It's always a relief to realise one doesn't have to go out every day and DO stuff. Yesterday was so intense, I need a breather. With luck I'll squeeze out some words later. I think I need to get that adventure outta my head and onto paper. Therapy. I'll go for a walk then come back and answer some of your comments..

Well, the board has certainly picked up, hasn't it? This post was about to drop off into cyber-space. I can see the void looming already. So let me do some housekeeping:

marija: funnily enough, your words 'don't agree to anything this afternoon that you might regret...' popped up in my mind late during my adventure yesterday. I didn't. Just.

marja_: you've probably done more research than me by now. I got diverted yesterday writing my massage story, so launched into the complete unknown. Let's hope I can give you the goods.

Kathie: it's not so much about the numbers. [he lied] But gee, wouldn't be great to see some stats in here? It ain't rocket science to add the number of hits. Despite my flowery prose, I love to 'do the sums' on things. I was about to say 'Figures don't lie' but given our financial meltdown that's not true at all.

Gpanda: keep guarding my door.

AskO: another glorious post. Alas, the 7,000 metre ascents are beyond me. I get light-headed in Darjeeling, let alone half-way up Kanchenjunga. If I was to be 'entertained' by some of your lady companions, I'd probably die on the massage table. Quite possibly half my age? - AND the rest. Fodor's is the only place I write.

Katrina: Laptop. A lovely new Sony VAIO Z165N, hot off the sweat-shop floor. Light as a feather. I don't regret bringing it. I'll need it on the boat. Lordy, it'll be my only companion. [I've been sneaking into CruiseCritic checking out my fellow cruisers - I sense a kind of five star catastrophy looming]

MaryW: I love hearing from you [and the roo-mangler]. I can smell that sweet West Australian air in your posts.

LeonF: I don't think you'll see this 'cos Today Is The Day! Bon voyage my friend. You'll find me in the guest book at Yangsum Farm - the only tourist who ever got lost. But, pal, you'll have forgotten all about the Dog by then - you'll just be having an amazing time. Best, best wishes for your adventure.

Mang: you're in the pooh on another post. lol. Better just hide in here where you're safe. But, you know, 'Apocalypse Now' is kinda appropriate. You'll see what I mean soon.

Bookchick; What a great connection - funny, the absolute obvious hadn't ocurred to me. If you'd seen me this time yesterday you'd realise JUST how apropos it is.

offwego: I just looked at my eyebrows. They haven't grown back yet. Maybe that's why people aren't hassling me on the street.

JohnFitz: you're probably my neighbour. Somehow I didn't pick-up that you're a Melbourne boy. How did I miss that? Yup, on this time zone, you get first suck of the saveloy. I'm glad you're appreciating the fresh dog meat.

* 'first suck of the saveloy' may, or may not be an old Australian expression. It's up to you. It's not as rude as it seems. Google 'saveloy' lol.

As for clues to crack the Da Ogster Code... nup. It's all a long time ago, mate. I love this public anonymity. All other details are yours - well, kinda..

Jaya: what a pal! your energy and enthusiasm for my tawdry prose gets me started. Is that a picture of you in your profile - or a Bollywood film star? Last time you put up a post you were in the dumps. {when I mentioned the Eclipse] Has life turned around?

Furry: 'over-ripe but juicy' lol. I love that. I'd like to think of myself like that - alas, the words 'rancid and dessicated' seem more appropriate.

Becalm: I have no idea where you live - nor do I particularly care. When you talk I feel a warm breeze from the tropics and the tinkle of temple bells; in the distance the faint waft of 'Welcome to the Hotel California...' In my mind you're in Bali - all the time. Maybe in yours, too.

'Lately it occurs to me
What a long strange trip it's been...'

Yes, my friend, a lot stranger than I thought it was going to be.

Now, why does that phrase make me suddenly want to weep?

I hate the idea of you weeping dogster! Everything will be ok. Just go to a quiet corner, lick your wounds and rejoin us when you are ready to tell us what happened. Somebody once said, "once you scratch a dog, you have a permanent job," so you know we will all be here for you -- you're our doggie!

Hey Dawg, I think one of your Jimmys went missing. I know, there are so many of them it's hard to keep track, but this was probably one of the big Jimmys, maybe even El Presidente Diego.

So, I get this text message this afternoon from the boss. I'm just reading it when he calls to tell me what the message says: that I need to contact an Indian guy that he thinks wants to "help" us, although he can't quite understand the guy. It's been the kind of week that I would like to tell him that I *would* call the guy, if he would just get the ... off the phone, but I bite my tongue.

After getting rid of the boss, I make the call, not to the Jimmy guy, because he doesn't have a phone I can call him on (in retrospect, this should have been a clue). No, I have to call one of our managers, who's with the guy, waiting for my call. Once he hands over the phone, I understand why the boss had trouble (although he'd have trouble understanding the queen of England). This guy has the thickest accent I've ever heard, AND he's speaking faster than any person I've ever known. In his case, I concluded that he's talking so fast because he's one of those people that feels compelled to give you his life story up to the very moment you called before he ever gets near anything resembling a point.

His monologue goes on for several minutes. I have trouble following all of it, but I think I get the gist of it, which is (1) that he is a Very Important Person who Knows People, and (2) he needs a ride from Impact, where he is now, to the Sofitel Silom, where he needs to check out before 4:45 (it's 3:30, I note, and that alone is a 45 minute drive on a good day). Could we please send a car for him.

Huh? I must not have understood him, so I check, "You want me to send a car for you?" Yes, yes. You send car for me. I introduce you to India.

Right. Am I on Candid Camera (oops, just dated myself). I've already concluded that there's almost no way I could get to Impact before 4:30, let alone find a car and driver that's available right this minute. Still, I'm not sure if I should give up so easily, so I try to ask what, exactly, it is he wants to propose to us.

"Oh, I cannot say over the phone. You send a car. We talk on the way."

Ahh... It's about this point when the yellow Jimmy warning light turns bright red and the sirens start going off. Even if it is a false alarm, there's really no avoiding the truth: I don't have a car to send to him. My company doesn't have cars and drivers. If I need to use a nice car, I have to borrow it from another company, and it usually takes a days notice.

So, I tell Jimmy I don't have a car to send him. He doesn't believe me, so I tell him again. At this point, he gets rather huffy, like, "you must have a car, your company has car" and he also accuses me of thinking exactly what I'm thinking: that he just wants a free ride to town. That's a classic Jimmy trick: try to embarrass you with the truth. Then of course, he hung up on me.

Assuming this guy did finally get a ride to his hotel, I assume he'll be on his way back to you soon. Check your inventory.

Dogster, so kind of you to give each of us a special comment as you do from time to time.

My gloomy day passed and now I hardly remember what happened that day, but luckily I don't stay in the dumps for long. Just sometimes things feel more negative than they really are.

Is that me in the photo? Hmmm, well I know Bob and Andy are planning the Oct. 2009 Boston GTG for which I hope to make this year. Come to the GTG and I promise to wear a sari and you can find out for yourself! (I love emoticons, I just keep forgetting to use them).

P.S. the quote on my Starbucks cup yesterday reminded me of something Dosgter would say: "the only problem with travelling is I have to bring myself along"!

Can we conclude that you survived intact your visit with the eunuchs?

What a funny story Brad. I think my Jimmys are somewhat more carnal than yours, but no less amazing. When you meet the mindset head on it's quite a blast, eh?

I was wandering around New Market tonight, in the shadow of my own good self; another hapless single white male being besieged by Jimmys. I laughed and cruised through about as unmolested as it's possible to be. That was me, a year ago.

My King Jimmy, the man who owns the name, friend of all female tourists, salesman, guide and sexual predator, has gone.

I think he's created a power vacuum. Over one thousand of his brothers, friends, cousins and extended family have swarmed in to take his pitch. They all know me. My exploits with King Jimmy are legion, it seems.

'He's very sexy,' they say.

'I guess he must be. He has many girlfriends,' I reply.

'Mm-m-m-m-m-m,' they nod seriously. I don't think they do. But they're looking.

'He has a bi-i-i-ig dick.'

One stretched out his hand, rolled up his sleeve and traced a line across his wrist - about an inch below his palm.

'THAT big.'

'Maybe that's why he has many girlfriends,' I smiled.

I didn't think there was much 'maybe' about it.

Well, Kolkata's loss is Tokyo's gain. King Jimmy's big dick has gone to Japan. I imagine he'll be a sensation there.

Michael, love your story!

Dogster, 98 replies and counting, but waaaay more hits.

I was sitting in another cupboard, slurping down the chai. It was mid-afternoon, muggy and hot, business was slower than usual. Time to talk.

Jimmy's cousin has a twinkle in his distinctly middle-aged eyes. He specialises in 'ladies of certain years'. It appears that backpacker girls are not the only spices to be found in New Market.

'Mmm-m-m, I like them forty, forty-five,' he smiled, 'up.'

I wondered how far 'up' went.

'What about that woman?' I said, pointing at a tourist lady buying pashminas over the way, 'how old is she? Sixty?'

'Too old.'

So there you have it ladies, fresh from the horse's mouth. Apparently you have a use-by-date. Somewhere between 45 and 60 you fall off the Jimmy horizon.

'I don't pretend,' he said, 'I tell them, if you want it - it's available.' He wiggled his head and twinkled his eyes. A rogue. 'We get a room, I turn out the lights... boof, it's over.'

For Jimmy's cousin, maybe.

'A little bit pocket money...?' I asked.

'You get more from the old girls.'

I'm wondering just what the old girls get from Jimmy's cousin.

'Do you have a big dick, like Jimmy?'

'Nah, any dick'll do for the old ones.'

Pathetically grateful, I suppose.

I wandered off into the crowd. A swarm of French tourists had descended on the block. They were all single ladies of certain years, dressed in that international, rather eccentic way. There were a lot of flowing shawls, expensive sunglasses and floppy hats; a lot of use-by-dates carefully pushed back a decade or two, the calendar spa'd and botoxed, stretched and coiffed, a lot of fingers weighed down with their dead husband's gold. They were 'shopping'. It was like a feeding frenzy in the fish-pond.

All yours, Jimmy, I thought.

Just remember to turn out the light.

What a fantastic post to come back to from my asia trip. This board rocks my world.

I've got some googling to do.

"bleached blind parrot" nearly caused root beer to shoot out my nose.

Looking forward to the next installment.

MichaelBKK, forgive me. I called you the wrong name. Criminal, expecially after your great contribution.

Jaya, I love the coffee cup. It's sometimes true - but Dog has made a lot of effort to lighten the load. He now no longer drags along unnecessary excess baggage. I'm not talking suitcases here.

marija: no, not really. Like I said, it was very extreme and ultimately very, very disturbing. Don't worry, I'll write it when I can bear to revisit the topic. But not in this post. It'll be a post of its own. It won't be pretty. I'll have to put a warning on the top. It'll pop out tomorrow - or in three months. Dunno.

"Somewhere between 45 and 60 you fall off the Jimmy horizon." Maybe that explains the singular lack of Jimmies in my time in Kolkata. Aside from the exceedingly annoying guy who absolutely refused to let me walk around New Market on my own. Maybe I just didn't recognize him as a Jimmy.

Those guys ain't Jimmys, thursday. They're just a pain in the arse. I nearly thumped one the other day for doing the exact same thing. If it wasn't so late here, I'd tell ya about it.

Proper Jimmys have a certain grubby charm and a line of chat that would strip paint from an old picket fence. You know it immediately. They would never be so crass as to cross the line. You have to cross it.

There's the trick.

"I nearly thumped one the other day for doing the exact same thing." Pity you didn't, lol. I annoyed the guy annoying me so much, he yelled after me not to come back when I left!

Oh Dogster, how did I miss this until now. I am truly touched that you found the time to help me with my endless questions in the midst of all of this!!

PLEASE keep going..(I was going to say "please keep it up.")


xxx A fan

"Dogster, 98 replies and counting, but waaaay more hits"

grrrrgrrrr.....OK I admit it Kathie, I'm following along too, grrrrrggrrrrr!

Dogster, how was your afternoon with "the girls"? - LOL

Jaya, my afternoon/evening with the girls was what I was referring to in my reply to Marija. I truly don't know when it will pop out. Today I'm on a plane, so I'm not in the zone, right now. I'm off to Gordon House in Mumbai. Check these fantastic reviews:

http://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g304554-d307115-Reviews-The_Gordon_House_Hotel-Mumbai_Bombay_Maharashtra.html

lol lol lol.

Dunno if they have wireless, dunno anything. I'm heading, bit by bit, for the edge of the known civilized world. On March 5th I drop off. Free-fall from then on in. I'll reappear, a lot grubbier, in Udaipur three weeks later.

I'm so pleased I slotted this 6 nights in Kolkata. I was wreckage when I arrived. Now, despite missing eyebrows, a sore back, long toes and the worst haircut in India, I'm feeling almost strong enough to continue. There'll be a brief battering of Jimmys in Mumbai - I'm in Colaba, Jimmy Central - but I'm scraping the bottom of that infinite barrel. As I think you can read above.

I've found a new pit. I spent six hours staring into the maw. Then I had to clamber out, fast - for fear of my immortal soul. I think I'll go for more elevated pursuits for a while. I need art, dancing and beauty, simplicity and calm.

I'm still shaken, in a profound way, from my close encounter with the Devil. So, if I'm to share that experience - I want my words to be very, very precise.

Now, I have to close this laptop and catch my flight. See ya in Mumbai.

Looking forward to seeing you in Mumbai - have a good flight - Kingfisher I presume, and a good couple of days before you drop off the edge. Sounds like you've picked an "interesting" hotel - such reviews - hope you've got a bolt hole lined up. Do look after yourself!

Look forward to your next instalment and views of Gordon House Dogster as we stayed there in December 06 .

Love the position .Found our room a little noisy - more to do with staff chatting outside the room and the open atrium rising from ground level .

Did not love the staff and in fact found them a bit off hand but then again it does not bill itself as 5 star etc .And I recommend the fresh pomegranate juice at Cafe Leopold which is just around the corner from your hotel .

Will you post your itinerary as promised so we can follow along, conjuring up adventures for you in your absence?

Hiya Dogster. Hope you achieve the zone quite deeply in Mumbai. Hope all is swell.

Dog
I've not had the time to sit down and read this thread in its entirety yet. Must do it though. I've read snippits. Love your writing!! You have a growing fan club here.

Carol

Well Marija, I just happen to have that information close at hand.

Mar 4/5
VADODARA: TAJ GATEWAY
www.thegatewayhotels.com/index.htm?hotelId=TBDQTR&page=Overview

Mar 6 - 9
KAVANTH: IN A TENT
Kavanth Fair/Chhotra Udepur Fair

Mar 10/11
CHHOTRA UDEPUR: KALI NIKETAN
www.nivalink.com/kaliniketan/index.html
HOLI

Mar 12/13
BALASINORE: GARDEN PALACE
http://gardenpalacebalasinor.blogspot.com/

Mar 15.
AHMEDABAD: House of M.G.
www.houseofmg.com

Mar 18.
ZAINABAD: Rann Riders
www.rannriders.com
incl: Night in CAMEL CART

Mar 21/22
DANTA: Bhavani Villa
http://bhavanivilladanta.com

Mar 23 - 26.
POSHINA: Darbardadh Poshina
www.poshina.com
Mar 24/5/6: The Chitra Vichitra Fair

March 27 – 31
UDAIPUR: JAGAT NIWAS
www.jagatniwaspalace.com
Mar 29/30/31 UDAIPUR MEWAR

April 1
DELHI: THE IMPERIAL
www.theimperialindia.com

I'd put money on 50% of it changing.

It's very late here in my cyclone at Gordon House, I'm too tired to write and it's too noisy to sleep. This is what sleeping pills are for.

Thanks! If you don't surface in Udaipur we'll at least know where to start searching. Mark your trail...

Haha. You're a maniac, Dog

Dogster
I think I was trying to find the name of an obscure hotel in Asia. Like all good internet searches, zigging rather than zagging, the next thing I knew I was voyeuristically surfing through Fodor’s Asia forum. I didn’t plan to like it there – but I got lucky, in that sharp stick at the right moment sort of way. So I have been here since Bhutan, learning more about myself with every chapter you write. I have been trying to shake the tourist for a while now – lose her in a crowded side street, sacrifice her to the touts. But in some hotel mirror, I am always so disappointed to see that she is still along for the ride.
The more I read from you, the where and what you are doing becomes less important to me – it is the how and the why I find so challenging and intriguing. Your prose is acute - unsettlingly, beautifully vivid, the questions posed so tangled with poetic lyrics – I am never sure if I want to be you, or avoid you. Your writing is exactly what I was looking for, fuel to grow.
The artistic soul is a restless companion. Your creative talents, though perhaps detoured to this new muse, are much appreciated by this reader. Thank you – the lights don’t reach this far, but know I am out there, taking it all in.

tyro - that's a beautiful reply. I've written three lengthy answers, all of which have been eaten by this crap wireless connection I'm on. Maybe it's telling me something. Your words meant a lot.

Thank you.

To the rest of you reprobates - yup, I made it alive. With the luck of the Dog I given an upgrade from cattle to business class, met a Bollywood film star and saw the tallest man in India. He was HUGE.

Then I arrived at Gordon House. Mmmm. More on that later.

[I'm scared to write more - everything gets swallowed and thrown away]

Glad to hear you've arrived safely and in the comfort of biz. I look forward to hearing about the Gordon House.

Hi Kathie: arghhhh - how can a place have it so right and get it so comprehensively wrong? This place has been driving me crazy since I arrived. It's a pefectly nice boutique hotel with one tiny flaw - you can't sleep in it.

The rooms on the street side of the hotel bounce with noise from the disco below, the 'quiet' rooms on the other side have a blizzard of white noise from a bank of air-conditioning units lined up like jet motors right outside the grubby windows.

Oh, I forgot to mention the construction site next door.

The staff has heard it all before. Every complaint, every weeping guest at 2.00 a.m., every outraged early departure. It's not as if they can do anything.

The reality here is that the core business is the restaurant and disco. The hotel is a boutique afterthought. They couldn't really give a stuff, I suspect. There'll always be another dumb punter who hasn't read Trip advisor. Very nice, in a kind of European way - grossly overpriced, as usual. But it's broken. Can't be fixed.

LEt me say - in the strongest terms: do NOT stay here.

It's 11.22 p.m. in room 407. I'm on the fouth floor. I can hear the disco, it's loud; feel the beat of drums in my floor. Gordon HOuse has begun its nightly guest-torture. You can have it too - only $220 a night. I want to kill them - but there's no one to kill.

That's the pisser - there's no solution, therefore no complaint worth making - and nowhere to direct the punters rage. I see it on the face of the few guests stumbling bleary to breakfast. They hate it too. So, if the staff seem a little distant - they're just waiting for the inevitable complaint. All they see is misery.

Unspeakable. As the night wears on they turn the disco UP. They know you hate it before you even check in. They're right.

I'm a little tired, so I'm being restrained in my criticism. One day I'll tell you what I really mean.

It midnight in room 407. The volume has just gone up a notch.

BOOM, BOOM BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM - pause

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM

There is a little back story. Let me share with you my corresponence with the management prior to my stay:

'Hi Avinash,

as you know I'm arriving February 28 for four nights.

As we both know your reviews in Tripadvisor are not great. In fact, they are terrible. But, we both also know there are two sides to every story. I'm not going to pre-judge you.

The complaints are all about the noise. So, my friend, I want you to help me.

I want you to guarantee that you will hold a room far away from the disco and the noise for the duration of my stay.

I don't want to arrive at 8.30 - 9.00 p.m. on Saturday night, 28th February to be told there is none available. That would be horrible - for all of us.

You have my guarantee, now I'd like yours. O.K.?

Here's his gushing reply:

ok quiet room confirmed.
Regards,
Avinash Bhatia
Sr.Manager-Sales and Marketing
Gordon House Hotel

My follow up a fortnight later:

Hi Avinash,

Just a gentle reminder that I'll be arriving tomorrow, Saturday 28 at about 8.00 p.m.

We have a deal, my friend. One beautiful room away from the noise.

I don't want this to happen to me:

http://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g304554-d307115-r24546242-The_Gordon_House_Hotel-Mumbai_Bombay_Maharashtra.html

I'm wondering if your reviews can possibly get any worse. It'll be interesting to see if they're true.

His reply:

'We have kept a good quiet room as per your request.'

No, he didn't. There ARE no good quiet rooms.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM...

What a plane ride, Dogster sandwiched between a Bollywood beauty and a giant. That's the real reason you couldn't sleep!

All my sympathy! Reminds me unpleasantly of the Transatlantique in Casablanca, which had bad reviews about noise, but was chosen by Intrepid, and in any case costs a fraction of $220 a night. I have to say, there the noise didn't last all night, I can't imagine putting up with BOOMs for an entire night!

When are you moving out?

How absolutely aggravating. I've been in a similar situation, so I sympathize completely. I guess Suba Palace wasn't so bad after all. The rooms weren't beautiful, but I can't say I remember being kept up by disco or street noise (even though its right next to Gordon House). Maybe I was to jet-lagged to notice. Is the Taj reopened? It sounds to me like you need to wander down there and end this nightmare.

BTW, with which Bollywood star did you have your brush with fame? I've been on a Bollywood movie kick for the past few weeks and am getting to recognize some of their names. What fun! I hope you got a photo together!

Doggie-here's the Panda plan for getting even. I wake up ridiculously early every morning regardless of when I went to bed. This provides an opportunity to raise the noise level when everybody expects it to be quiet. A little of their own medecine. This might work best if you found Avinash's home address. A little Doggie howling at about 4:30 a.m. ought to drive your point home. What's the worst that could happen? A small disturbing the peace charge is nothing compared to the revenge factor. Go for it. We'll get you a good advocate.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM...

Wha...? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you thursday.. could you say that again?

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM...

Marija, here's a way of estimating the giant's height. UYou know those bused that take you from airport to plane? You know the dangly handles that people hang onto? You know the railing that those dangly handles hang from?

The giant's shoulder touched the railing. He was standing, head bowed, trying to fit under the deiling. THEN, to my complete astonishment, he managed to fit himself into economy class.

Alas, I was up the front. How? Dogster's winning ways, I can only guess. Only Dog can get an upgrade on a totally full flight. All these people kept looking at me and whispering.

They weren't staring at me. An extraordinarily beutiful woman next to me raised her head and smiled. Lordy. Be still my beating heart. The cabin crew turned inside out in their excitement. One handsome steward was very hot and sweaty, a buffed bundle of grovel and sperm.

Even the giant was eclipsed. He sat glumly, folded into his seat, knees tucked under his chin. The back of the chair didn't even cover his shoulders.

Usually, I'd assume giants get upgrades - but this giant checked in just too late. Can you guess whose twinkling eyes and winning smile scored the folded giant's seat?

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM - it's 12.41 in room 407

Even better Gpanda - I have his mobile number. I nearly put in a previous post. Then we call ALL call him and tell him about the sobbing Dog in 407.

But as we all know, revenge is a dish best savoured slowly. The internet is a wonderful thing.

Well, I guess I'll mark the Gordon House off my list - at least until I'm too deaf to hear the disco.

Of course, I'm forming an image of Dogster in skin tight pants, shirt open to his canine navel and lots of gold chains. Disco Doggie! When in Rome....

Mobile numbers are too easy. They can be turned off. The Dogster in person at 4:30 a.m. is what this calls for. The good news is that you don't have to make much noise to be really disturbing. Go for it!

Give us the cue Dogster and we can all call the Gordon's main number as the ghosts of disgruntled and sleep deprived past guests coming back to haunt them...THE NOISE, THE NOISE, THE NOISY GORDON, I CAN'T GET IT OUT OF MY MIND!!! ARHHH, I'M GOING MAD!!!

It's stopped. 2.30 a,m,

Dog is dead for the duration. Hear the Doggie snoar,,.

Not so loud! People are trying to sleep.

Just when you thought you were safe:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0e4qHRhlJlc

Our calls were not in vain. Gordon's is delivering a complimentary room service breakfast to dogster at 6 AM.

The name of the ubernoisy disco is "Polly Esther's". Their phone is +91 022 (or 22 from US) 22871122.

The Hotels on-duty Manager's number is +91 022 (or 22) 2289444.

P.S. if you don't receive your complimentary in-room massage and all day voucher for the bar, please let me know!

We're all here for you Dogster.

Oh dear.It was noisy when we were there at Xmas time 06 in a room at the rear but I had silicon ear plugs .I do recall opening my door and screaming at staff to be quiet .Can you not move ? Pre paid ? I took a lot of toiletries from the cleaners cart as I loved the small stainless steel look shampoo and conditioner bottles and was cross but they are small recompense for a bad nights sleep x 4 .

Nothing like a snoozing dog's snores. That might upset the staff if you can sleep long enough. Hope you recover before tonight and the next bash! Think of it as practice for all the noisy festivals - mind you at least you want to be at those.

I doubt the dog will be staying another night.!!!

Just another Dog day in Mumbai.

I awoke, full of loathing, sometime near midday. Sleep had been hard to come by - did I mention? While I was showering, to distract myself from the elderly stick insect staring me in the mirror, I composed my Histoire de Gordon House Grizzle, then, suitably scrubbed, launched out for my shave.

My barber's shop is famous. It's fifty yards from Leopold’s, just a block from the empty Taj. The gunmen ran right by, after attacking the Colaba cafe. You've seen pictures of the blood on the pavement outside my barber’s shop. One man died in the doorway.

'One shave,' I said, 'and a smile.'

'We don't smile, anymore,' said the owner, 'not these days.'

He was brutal, quick and cost 20 rupees. I felt very sorry for his wife.

Time for breakfast coffee at Leopolds. This place has been packed right out for days; Saturday, Sunday nights a queue of punters, a crush of white and brown, more popular than ever, now part of the Terrorist Tourist Circuit. Not so full today.

Why can't I erase the thought of those gunmen bursting through the doorway? Why do I feel terror in the ether, sense carnage in the air? What is that high-pitched vibration? Is it screaming? Just the air-con? Is the building still disturbed? Blood, blood, blood and bullets, screaming patrons on the floor.

Mmmmmm, too sssssensitive, Doggie, too sssseventies, just move on.

I'm walking down that hustler strip, past the tat-shops, past the boys. I have my 'Don't-screw-with-me-Jimmy' face on. They can feel it - most don't try. Those that do regret it – I’m a dangerous Dog today.

The Mumbai Jimmy's are a far more carnivorous breed; you have to treat them tough. Some of them remember me. I remember them even more. We have a deal now. No more hustling, just a handshake, just old Doggie passing by.

'How's business?'

'Mmmmph, no tourists, the gunmen scared them all away'

I look around me. I don't believe him. The street is swarming with backpackers. There seems to be a never-ending stream of Spanish, German and Japanese youth, European ladies of certain years with their floating, Indian clothes. The baby Japanese seem to be particularly gormless, the Spanish merely loud. All the Germans are still in Leopold’s guzzling beer for breakfast. I dunno how they do that.

A gaggle of British gap-year darlings, pure white in the Mumbai sun. They shine like a bright new golf-ball, bobbing innocently down the road. They just arrived yesterday. I catch a couple buying charas from a Jimmy. I see the sweat through their close cropped haircuts, sense their inevitable disappointment when they finally get back to their backpacker hovel, open that little black packet, roll that excited first joint - then realize they've been smoking incense, spices, black clay; anything but what they thought they had bought.

‘My first day in India,’ they’ll write in their purile blog, ‘wow, the chaos, the excitement, wow, the people, wow, the traffic, wow wow wow.’ They won’t mention that little transaction. Buying dud charas is a rite of passage in Mumbai.

The Taj is boarded up, just two chandeliers still burning inside. It’s a hot tourist attraction, and I’m not talking foreigners. Now visitors have two photos taken; one in front of the barricaded Gateway to India, the other in front of the damaged, dead Taj. It looks empty. It feels kinda strange. Boof! The windows shatter. Crash! The walls explode.

Around the Towers next door there is a wall of white bricks, a guard box with guns, a blather of security and a thing you walk through that beeps. People are being patted down. I can’t help thinking the horse has already bolted. Now it looks like a prison for rich guys. I guess they’ve washed the blood off that shiny marble floor.

I don’t wanna stay there.

But my Mumbai Monday has a silver lining. It's a BOOM-free Mumbai day. Tonight the floor will not be thumping, Dogster's ears will barely bleed. 'Polly Ester', my downstairs disco, is closed. I'm almost sad. What will I complain about now?

So I'm still here in Gordon House, a distant figure to the staff, just that cranky guy in 407. Soon I'll be gone, they'll have my money, another sucker passing by; the Histoire de Grizzle will be forgotten as I face the Gujarat sun, there'll be dancing in the twilight, clanging cymbals in the dawn.

Well, I hope.

"Dancing in the twilight, clanging cymbals in the dawn." Wasn't that just what you were complaining about?! Seems like the perfect marketing pitch for Gordon House.

We are all here cheering you on, Top Dog.

signed, a fan

Thanks for the "Boof" reference. It made my day.

I wondered what it would be like for you to visit your old haunts in Mumbai after the carnage. Thanks for writing about it.

Does the disco power your wireless connection? Give us a growl when you can.

'Now it looks like a prison for rich guys... I don’t wanna stay there.'

Inmate number 1102 reporting for duty. My room at the Taj overlooks the Gateway to India - to my right I'm looking down on the turrets and roof of the old Palace, a flap of blue plastic, leaning piles of new tiles - it's a beautiful room, an upgrade, of course. Everything is exactly the same. Nobody mentions the bleeding elephant in the corner.

The security proceedures are not dissimilar to an airport. Two gates that beep, a huge luggage scanner right outside, driveway in and out blocked off. Let's not fuss about security. I sure don't have a better idea.

Shaving, breakfast coffee at Leopold's. I hadn't noticed the two bullet holes in the mirror inside before; kept thinking about the people sitting at the table just in front. I don't think those patrons are alive today. I went back to test my reactions; maybe Gordon House had tipped my psyche somewhere strange. Same reaction. Kinda creepy. Gormless gap-year tourists, gormlessly trapped in their gap - unaware.

O.K., let's forget terrorism - let's move on. The service, the welcoming face of the Taj remains intact; after three nights in hell it's like coming home. I think I'm a 5 star kinda guy. Let's not even discuss check-out at Gordon House this morning. There was a full and frank exchange of views.

Last night I sat in the street eating chicken something at Bademiya: I was plonked at a table for two. My companion was a huge, very black man dressed in a white tablecloth. He was a minister of the Church of God Only Knows What, kinda severe, friendly but unsmiling. He quizzed me then launched straight into a prayer.

'Lord, protect this lonely Australian. Keep him safe in the streets of Mumbai. Keep him free from those who want to take advantage of him, make his visit a time of great joy. Protect him from flying disasters, keep him safe from the drugs and the whores; make his time in the country run smoothly, make his travels give him what he desires...'

We both held our hands up in prayer: business, Dogster soul saved, he was off. Let's hope the big fella was listening. I think I'm about to need all the help I can get.

You'll be right now Doggie! We won't have to worry about you but don't tempt fate too much just in case.

I wish I had been there to hear the "full and frank exchange of views!" Good going, Dog!!


Signed, a fan

OK. Mr. Google shows me your route. However, even his all encompassing prongs fail to unearth information about the Kavanth Fair. (I assume you miscalculated your dates for visiting Vadodara since you missed the Kite Flying Festival, which may have been cancelled anyway, and are too early for Stampmania 2009.) Can you divulge what festivities await you in Kavanth?

Very vivid...I can see the Taj and your earnest salvation-dispensing dinner companion. Hope there is time to write more before you disappear.

Very evocative - I can her the rumble in the minister's voice, I can feel the careful avoidance of the "bleeding elephant in the room" at the Taj and at Leopold's.

Well, I'm not entirely sure either marija. In fact your question has made me realise that I've quite forgotten - if I ever knew in the first place. Something is happening and I will be there. This is literally all I know.

I can't find Kavanth on a map either. It's to the right of Vadodara. It's nearish to Kali Niketan - but then, I don't know where that is either. The more I write, the more stupid I realise I am.

Which kinda says it all, doesn't it?

Looks like it's Kavant without the h at the end. This may be why you're heading that way:
http://www.indiainfoweb.com/gujarat/tribes/rathwas.html
Don't be too emboldened by the minister's blessing, you still have to do your part... Enjoy your immersion and thanks so much for taking us along on your journey. We'll be here waiting for you to surface.

Maybe you're headed to Kavant? On maplandia.com (terrain map), Kavant is shown East of Vadodara.... and looks like its at the end of the line, so guessing that must be the place lol. Should be very interesting.

Kali Niketan looks like a nicely restored mansion located due North of Kavant - near a bear sanctuary - in Chhota Udepur.

- Sorry Marija, didn't see your post.

A Dog and bears oh my.

Dog

Only just had chance to check in and get your updates. As usual a delight to read...
I had a similar experence of BOOM BOOM BOOM at the Chateau Marmont in LA. I cried from the lack of sleep and they moved us the next morning to a bungalow (hopefully not the one were John Belushi OD'd!!!), but never again spoilt the experience for me (and they had promsed me a quiet room!!)

Keep the updates coming your audience(Of which there are many) await you

Dogster- Do you drink while in India? Not to get too deep, but I find that after having a few strong drinks in Thailand, I get profound thoughts and feelings about being in such an extraordinary place. Instead of getting stupid, I become philosophical and find my self questioning life more deeply than I normally do. I can be looking at the wall, or an ornament in the restroom and feel overwhelmed by what I see, even the most minute of things (I don't do drugs, btw). I really don't have to be in a remote asian country to feel this way, but it is much more intense in Thailand.

Kavant or Kavanth! When any of the Indian languages have to be transliterated into the English alphabet, errors may occur. It's useless for an "h" to be joined with a "t" because there is no "th" sound in Indian languages as in "thankyou", yet it happens a lot - more so in South India, less so in North India.

At most, the "th" is pronounced "t" with a little extra puff of air as if you over pronounced "Tea".

Another example of variations in spelling is "Ganesh" and "Ganesha" (the first is the correct one). I could go on, but you get the idea.

Dogster I am really sorry to read your sense of those terrible events still being all pervading .Should not really be surprised I suppose but it is still sad .

Such a wonderful city and lovely people ,who I might add were exceptionally kind and solicitous to my closest friend who was staying at and dining in the Oberoi that night and survived by the kindness of strangers .

I think those sleepless/BOOM, BOOM, BOOM nights at the Gordon House have been harder on Dogster than originally thought!

(P.S. if you're reading this reply out of context, it's not the sleepless/BOOM, BOOM, BOOM kind of thing that you might be thinking ).

Spot on, Mang: that's exactly the zone. I was reflecting on just this topic last night as tears came to my eyes for no apparent reason, as a surge of deep feeling doubled me up. We’ll talk about this more later. You’re exactly, perfectly right. It takes a week or so, sometimes longer to get there - but once you get there, you stay there.

I'm there.

It’s been a solitary beer-less few days in Mumbai; bloody hot, in the mid to high thirties and the mongrel woke up rancid every day.. Once again I’ve comprehensively failed to conquer the city - it’s way more brittle than Kolkata – after a total ten days here I still don’t know nuttin’. Dog was so tired the first three days ‘cos of lack of sleep he didn’t achieve very much at all other than fight off eager Jimmys and refuse to buy dud charas - and dud sex. You should be proud of him.

I think I might share with you my final billet-doux to our dear friend Avinash; Sr.Manager - Sales and Marketing. I sure he won’t mind…

Hey Avinash,

As it turns out, there are NO good quiet rooms in your hotel.
You know that.
Now, so do I.
How can you guys get it so right - and so comprehensively wrong? The whole design concept is fine; the rooms are fine, if the staff were happy, they'd be fine too. They try.
Just one little problem: BOOM, BOOM, BOOM or Air conditioner ROARRRRRRRRRRR. Horrible.

Have you ever actually spent a night in your hotel? And paid $220 for the pleasure? I don't think so. I feel sorry for your staff. All they see are unhappy, sleepless guests. All they hear are complaints - or that bleak, unhappy silence.

And your job is in Sales and Marketing?
Well, I guess you have something unique: you're the only boutique hotel I know where it's impossible to sleep. That might be a selling point. Everybody needs a gimmick.
Good luck, my friend. See you in Tripadvisor.

Strangely, he hasn’t replied.

There's still a bad vibe in the Taj. Everybody is over-compensating, being relentlessly professional, Taj to the tips of their toes. It's 100% full, the staff seem like they're on speed, breakfast was a blizzard of over-helpful attention. This wasn't service - this was harassment.

After the fifteenth interruption in the first ten minutes:

'Are you enjoying breakfast, sir?'

'No.'

'Oh.'

My handsome Taj torturer was somewhat taken aback.

'Is there anything I can do to help?'

'Leave me alone.'

Ever had pals who have been bereaved? You know that phase of wild activity, organization, frenzied ANYTHING to avoid the topic at hand? Those pals you want to take by the hand, sit down with gently, give them a hug and say 'Slow down. Stop. You know? It's O.K. to grieve?'
Imagine – you come to work one day and people are gunned down in front of you. You spend hours, maybe days in fear of your life. Three months ago. How quickly do you bounce back from that? There’s some form of jock/macho/professional/we won’t let those bastards win ethos happening here. I would have happily swapped the relentless service at breakfast for some post-traumatic stress counseling for these guys.

Doggie has done a lot of death. He knows that look in the eye.

Five interminable but stress-free hours later – I’m in Baroda. The flight took 40 minutes. I think it would have been quicker to drive. But the base cost of today’s Jet excitement was precisely $8.00. I coped. No film stars, no giants, just a full plane-load of businessmen, all heading it seems, for the Gateway Vadodara. [Baroda and Vadodara are the same place – don’t ask me why…]

I arrived to drama at the check-in desk; a full-scale riot was taking place. Like the Taj, like the plane, the Gateway Vadodara is 100% full. Try telling that to an Indian businessman in full flight without a confirmed booking. My word, they can lie.

There’s no importance more important than self-importance – and nobody more self-important than an unimportant man. It would be politically incorrect of me to suggest there are certain sub-continental characteristics at play here, but I do have to report that my Indian colleagues have the performance down to a fine art. What a show! Shrieking, banging, thumping and rage; I left, regretfully, just before he punched the manager out.

There’s a mass dog fight happening outside my window right now. It sounds just like the lobby.

Dogster- I'd enjoy discussing the "zone" with you sometime. I, too, get teary-eyed depending on how hard it hits me at that moment. Take it easy over there..

Oh, just one final Mumbai aside before I sleep.

Leopold's cafe has brought out a new souvenir mug. It has a big blue picture of their bullet holes on the side. I gasped.

Coffee today was interrupted by the sight of Japanese tourists posing for photographs by the bullet-riddled mirror, grinning wildly, their idiot student eyes shining inanely in the Mumbai morning sun. They were making that stupid 'V' for victory sign, new bullet mugs held out proudly in front of them.

I had bad un-Christian thoughts. My black pastor should have said another Dogster prayer. Maybe it's best, for once, I don't express myself. Forgive me, if I don't offer to share.

Why didn't you tell reception at the Gateway Vadodara that you were in the area on your way to sleep in tents and camel carts? They might have been able to craft a solution that would have pleasing to the Indian businessman and to you. Perhaps he's still in the lobby?

I have a very violent aversion to people who do the V sign thing it REALLY bugs me. Top of the list is our owm Macka (Paul McCartney) someone should tell him we are not in the 60's anymore arghhhhhhhh
Dog I share your un-christian thoughts.

Dogster, I'm still following along. Loving every post.

Those Leopold mugs sound shockingly tacky and in poor taste. Yet why am I not really surprised at them nor the tourists taking pictures?

Dogster- I remember being in a Thai restaurant when the world trade centers fell. We were watching it on the TV there. All of the Thais were huddled around watching, a few actually smiling, laughing and talking amongst each other. I wanted to go postal. My wife later told me that its common for Thais to laugh during times of duress or terrible circumstances not involving themselves. I later read of this behavior in a Thai culture book. Perhaps the Japanese are similar here...

"See you in Tripadvisor." Do let us know when your review goes up! Unfortunately, the owner gets the last word there.

Love your description of the mayhem at the airport. Sounds like a good time to take some video, which I usually abhor.

I meant to add that despite all the smiles/laughing, they certainly don't mean it. It is only a learned response expressed in the emotion of disbelief.

Yes Dog, got married in Ft Erie, Ontario. They decorated the bingo hall and our song was David Cook, Time of my Life. Wish you were there....

The Gateway Vadodara is quite a surprise. It's a perfectly good business hotel with a perfectly good restaurant and some perfectly good staff. The .00001% of you planning on rushing to Baroda can feel confident booking here.

It boasts a waterfall that turns on and off at the press of a button and a most remarkable objet d'art. The Blind Designer Of Ugly Things has created a sculpture in the courtyard; a towering inferno of silver tubes, galvanised Shivlings of different heights; little fat Shivlings, big tall Shivlings, medium Shivlings trying their best - and all of Shiva's Linghams are glowing in the dark.

The Blind Electrician has created an ever-changing miracle of light; Shiva's tower of silver power turns Shiva red and Durga blue, green, yellow and lurid purple in a never-ending parade of wonder - all the time ejaculating thick streams of dry ice. It's worth a trip to Baroda just to see it.

Alas, my friends, that’s about all of Baroda I’m seeing. It’s 5000 degrees Celsius. I’m having my last day in comfort and style. Tomorrow night I’m in a tent, in the thick of it. Baroda, I’ve discovered, can wait. I’ll save my juices for the adventure in store.

My waiter at dinner last night was a sweet young man from Manipur; anxiously anxious to please. His fine Asian features stood out in the swarthy Gujarat crowd. I dutifully enquired his origins. This young man is a long way from home.

I leant over and squinted at his name: Yurinmung.

'Yu-rin-mung,' I said slowly, trying to wrap my tongue around the word. 'That's too difficult - what do your friends call you?'

'Yurin,' he replied brightly.

'Well, thank you, my friend,' I said gravely. He smiled, bowed and left me alone.

For some reason, I had a fit of the giggles.

This is probably the time to introduce you to my next potential catastrophe – by way of insurance, if nothing else. If I never reappear, it’s all this guy’s fault.

Here’s his picture: www.poshina.com/kumar_sinh.html

Now, would you buy a used car from this man? Dogster did, based on serendipity, great timing and that regal twinkle in the old bulldog’s eye. I still haven’t met him but he woke me up first thing this morning, full of bounce, energy and glee. B, E & G are a little bit lost on me at sparrow’s fart but no matter – this is the zone and, after just one more Gateway sleep, crack ‘o dawn I’m on my way. Muresh, my driver, and the Dogmobile will set forth.

‘I don’t want you to miss the dancing girls…’ he said.

Dancing girls?

‘The driver might have to stop and ask the way,’ Mr Sinh roared gaily. ‘He’s never been to Baroda before…’

Travelaw – are out there?

‘Mr Sinh,’ I said aloud, suddenly realizing I had cast my lot with a man called SIN, ‘let’s hope we don’t have to do too much stop, ask and start. Otherwise we’ll get another Muresh, O.K?’

He huffed and puffed and failed to blow my house away. I think Sin got my message. He doesn’t know I’ve met all his seven deadly cousins before.

Smashing, Dogster! I think we should have a thread nominating the "Best of the Best" by the Blind Designer of Ugly Things. (BDUT, for those in the know)

Signed, a fan

So here I am, Googling my way to a place I’ve never heard of - if I could only find it on the map. Forewarned is forearmed with Muresh The Blind Driver; I feel at least one of us should know where we’re going.

So now I’m acquainted with Mr. Sin, young Urine and one more fine local exhibit; Mr. Slime and Slither, the massage man. He did as his name suggests, in a perfectly splendid way; he was good, cheap and had hands from heaven, but he dressed for the task in a most unusual manner.

S&S laid me naked on the slab, turned on the soothing music, lit the bowl of sweet-smelling oil - then draped himself in a full-length white plastic apron, white plastic shower cap and a face mask. I thought he was going to put white plastic gloves on as well, but he stopped just short of that. There were just two black eyes glowing in a slit; but even they were covered by glasses. I lay there as he did his thing, eyes closed, floating softly in the scented spa surrounds. Everything was fine, except when I opened my eyes. I kept thinking I’d woken up on the operating table, in the midst of radical surgery.

THE LAST POST

Now our time together has come to an end. I've had fun. Let me know if you've made it thru thus far unscathed. I'll probably need a liddle bidda love when I emerge.

In a blink and a slither I'm off to the tent, to the tribals, to the dancing, in the grip of my eighth deadly Sin. Spare a thought for Doggie, say a Fodor's forum prayer; he'll be hot and he'll be dirty, he'll be lost in parts unknown - but he'll be wonderfully, dreadfully alive.

Or not, as the case might be.

See ya in Ahmedabad.

We'll look forward to your tales. And if you don't surface on schedule in Ahmedabad the Great Fodorite Search Party will incorporate as a not for profit organization, raise funds, hold conferences, learn tribal languages, commission maps, obtain visas, sunscreen, compasses, earplugs for the Gordon House, and set out in search of our beloved dogster.

Unscathed, but definitely shaken up at times. Travel well.

In case you haven't left yet, here's the map: www.maplandia.com/india/gujarat/vadodara/chhota-udepur/
Have a feeling it won't make a difference though. Do you know celestial navigation ?

Hi Dogster, "Kem cho?" ("how are you?" in Gujarati). Marija has the searh party all planned out in case its execution becomes necessary. Doubt it will become necessary. Nothing beats the experience and instincts of an old dog's nose!

Are you taking a compass? Somehow I feel that a GPS is cheating...

Good luck. Sending luuurve. I'd send some prayers for cool, dry weather, but I rather doubt that they'd work.

I just might have to plan to go look at that fountain!!! (Did you take pix?)

A compass, thursdays? I think that's probably cheating as well. I'm with becalm on the celestial navigation.

I know you'll have an amazing time, dogster. I look forward to what you will share with us when you emerge from the wilds.

So, we're going to have to wait for our next installment of the "Tales of Dogster"? Why does this seem unfair? We've all been mesmorized by his prose. Collectively, we are hoping for a canine comeback.

I'll be waiting for the return of the Dog....

I'll be here too Doggie waiting patiently and offering a little prayer for you. I expect you will need it but I'll also send one for all those who you come into contact with!!!!!

Nothing like a good shampoo and grooming when you get back to shake off the bad bits.

Take care.

Sorry I wasn't here for your last few posts dogster. I hope all works out with the driver and you don't get lost in Gujarat! That minister didn't pray over you for nothing.

So much to comment on, but not enough time. I sat next to those bullet holes in the mirror a few months ago. Sobering. I'm not sure what to think about the mug thing -- maybe they are just trying to capitalize on the event to raise money for the famiies of the victims? Or maybe its an in-your-face response that they aren't going to be defeated by such gruesome acts of violence? The photos and peace signs are just in really poor taste (actually, the mugs are, too)-- but the world is the world and sometimes people react to the macabre in a bizarre way. I'm glad you moved to the Taj and out of that noisy Gordon House. If I can't get some quiet at a hotel I'm outta there! Isn't it so sad to see the old section boarded up? It wilnever really be the same again, but I hope I get to pay the old place my respects next time I'm there with a few drinks in Sea Lounge, which I understand will be reopening this month.
Safe travels -- have fun and we'll be waiting for you when you resurface in Ahmedabad!

When will you be coming home, Dogster?

Lucky pup, you got all the sheilas following your every move. It's late, got to get some tucker, thanks for the stories mate!

downunderjack- I know this is a longshot here, but you wouldn't be Australian would you?

No he can't be! Probably a Kiwi.

Where's the doggie? He's outta site.

Gotta let sleeping dogs lie for a while - right now he's "in a tent". If his last post turns out to be accurate and if he does not succumb to the dog-eat-dog world of central west India, we should receive our next doggie post from Ahmadabad on or around the 15th.

He may come back as Colonel Kurtz, painted face and insane lol (j/k of course Doggie)

Dogster, it's lonely around here without you. I know you're in a tent somewhere in the depths of Gujarat, or thereabouts, but we REALLY miss you here!

The idea of holding my breath waiting for Dogster is not working out very well. Friends say I am starting to turn blue.
May have to do something drastic like read a book.

Dogster you do it every time. You make me laugh, make me miss India and most of all wanting more of your writing.

Take good care of yourself.

We should be hearing from our intrepid traveler soon. No doubt, he will have us rolling in the aisles with his tales of derrring do.

Those were the days.