Nooooo Mango - I haven't invented the name for that - as yet. A careful reader might notice the distinct absence of matters of the palm thus far in my reports... I'll leave the gory details for another time - or, given the sophisticated nature of my friends in here [except one, lol] - never. Dogster has, of course, moved beyond such tawdry pursuits.

Jaya; a Jimmy is a street hustler. They are all called Jimmy. They are fixers. They will provided you with anything you want - a careful reader of previous posts will note their ability to provide, or find, a whole rance of choice items from dud charas to underage sex. It's just after my breakfast here - I'm really not up to a full and frank discussion - but, funnily enough, your question is entirely apropos my detailed research in Udaipur and yesterday's adventures.

I reached the Heart of Jimmy Darkness a day or so ago. I see it as a great battle of wits. Like the Hajira in Kolkata, it's a story to be told later - and with great care in my choice of words.

I'm sure some of you wonder at my fascination with Indian low-life. So do I. Just know it's not a search for sex. Quite the reverse. If ever you want to really feel 59 years old, ugly and exploited, just head into a pack of 22 year old Jimmys on the prowl. I promise you, the lessons learnt stay with you... forever.

I do, however find a certain fascination in the tawdry exploits of others, quiz my Jimmys relentlessly about exactly what, who, when, how many times, the cost, the location and the meaning. Mang; I have more juicy stories than you can possibly imagine about the foibles of tourist behavior in the sub-continent.

The Jimmys are fixers - remember, somebody has to want to be fixed.

trav: the Lake comes and goes season by season. When the GRG of T hears that elderly Australians are coming to town they pull the plug, just to piss them off.

But, as an image for this city at the arse-end of the tourist season, I think it's strangely appropriate.

Sadly Dogster my memory is entirely gone - can't remember a thing from day to day any more!!!!

Very good to have you back.

I started getting confused back in Kolkata. I did read carefully because I started to realize back then that I may be the only one not knowing what Jimmy was all about. But Jimmy did so many things and could arrange certain services, etc. that I started to wonder who was this Jack (or Jimmy) of all trades was? Thanks for clarifying. I don't feel so "un-hip" now. :D

lmao. Thanks Dogster. Love to hear the stories- perhaps on a raunchy expat forum sometime. Glad you're well,

Kurt

Another lengthy post swallowed by Fodor's deciding to close down for an hour to back up their files. They do this periodically, just while I'm typing. Editor's revenge for boring everybody stupid with my tales. So, the slippery finger of fate has been shoved right back up my... oh, lordy, I'd better stop right now.

That ragged orifice has suffered rather a lot lately - not, I rush to explain, in the Biblical sense. Think of Dogster's bum as a metaphor.

Well, as a matter of fact, I'd advise you not to think of Dogster's bum at all.

I'm sorry I even brought the topic up.

Things today have been quite extraordinary.

Dogster's battle with the Lal Ghat Sub-branch of the Udaipur Mafia has not quite reached its conclusion. On the assumption I live till the morning - which will occur only if I stay indoors till it's time to leave for Delhi tomorrow - I will tell you everything.

Things got a little scary this evening. Or not. I have an overactive imagination. Or a highly developed sense of danger. Or good intuition. Or I'm just a bloody idiot.

But so far, with one burning exception, Dogster has managed to outrun, outscam and outwit the locals. But only just. Yup, there was a rough patch at the beginning - but around this time, now they know I'm going tomorrow, the gloves are off. They have to kill me tonight - or I've won.

They have just woken up to the fact that I might just have been playing them - more than they have been playing me. All in the interests of research, you understand. There has been not one moment of untoward canine activity in the last four days. [I would amplify this, but I think I've gone quite far enough already.]

This bunch of Jimmy stories outclasses all the rest, stands proudly, precariously on the tip of the top of the garbage heap. But it's just as well I'm leaving tomorrow. I need all my fingers to type.

Safe and speedy travels back to Delhi!!!

But what, oh what, have you been up to in Rajasthan to gain the ire of the corrupts there?

As I guess you can tell, I've regained my spirits. Phew. It was touch and go there for a while. Maybe, at the Imperial in Delhi, for the first time since Baroda [at least a thousand years ago] I might have the luxury of wireless internet access, the luxury of using my OWN computer to type when and where I want. Hey, maybe even the luxury of a mattress not made of planks.

I've died a thousand times on this trip. When you get the stories, just remember they are written in blood.

Am I really going to get on a cruise now? Does this make any sense at all? Just four more days in India? Doesn't seem possible. Let's see if/when I get to Delhi. I'll be there this time tomorrow.

I'll just pop upstairs and remove the severed horse's head from the foot of my bed.

See ya.

It's dog vs. the mob. Wow! Looking forward to that action/adventure story.

Now you can luxuriate in the real mattress at the Imperial. Enjoy Delhi . . . if you can.

Dogster, are you there? Did you make it back to Delhi?

I'm writing this on behalf of Dogster: he was found in Lake Pichola in Udaipur, a victim of unfortunante circumstances.

Well, I think it was Dogster. All I can say is that a confused, rather drunk man of certain years was recovered from the fetid mud and delivered to an unknown address in New Delhi.

I know no more. When his fingers grow back I'm sure he'll reply.

A quick note from the General Manager of the Imperial Hotel:

A Mr. Dogster checked in to our hotel at 5.00 p.m. last night. He checked out again at 9.00 p.m. in a state of cold fury.

I don't care why. We don't want him back.

No matter - we charged him 15,000 rupees anyway.

Memo from the Duty Manager of the Shangri-La Hotel, New Delhi.

A confused man with no fingers checked in late last night to the Executive Floor. He answers to the name of Dogster but doesn't appear to know where he is.

Treat him kindly - but make sure to charge him 12,000 rupees. Don't let him anywhere near the free drinks.

Find a dictation-Jimmy. Out with it. Please...

lol - love the "other side" of the dogster's hotel travels.

GASP!!! I can only stand this kind of suspense for so long. Dogster...speak...anything. What have you done to yourself?

Once the fingers grow back this should be a great story. Love the idea of a dictation Jimmy!

You are a wild-man, Dogster!

Well at least he appears to be back with us!!!!

I think that long cruise will be good for him after all. Give the fingers enough time to grow back and the stories to sort themselves out in that confused brain. Then we can look forward to hearing all.