If ever you are going to answer the phone to a wrong number, make sure it is next to me! I hope you have all read the 'blind date' blog and will excuse me, if I come across as suitably smug throughout the rest of this blog.
I will admit, there was a touch of nerves on the Sunday afternoon, mainly fueled by the response I received from my golf partners in the morning.
I am starting to realise that there are basically two different sorts of ex-pat in Delhi. The ones that came here with work because they had no choice and hate it and those that came here for the money and hate it. We create a third category that no body seems to understand.We came here because we wanted to and absolutely love it.
I didn't think there was anything that weird about the wrong call/blind date situation. That is until I mixed with other ex -pat's. Their response ranged from the stupid to the dangerous. I heard theories of kidnap plots, swinger's and s&m parties, occult and fight clubs!
I was surprised at the amount of suspicion amongst my fellow 'Westerner's'. Why was there no faith in the decency of the Indian people? Am I being naive or they cynical? Why do I think "how friendly" and they "how suspicious"? More to the point, what should I wear, linen trousers and Ted Baker shirt or PVC all in one body suit with strap on dildo and gas mask?
With nerves peaking nicely we arrived over the road at 8.30 and were stood at the door with a man who introduced himself as "Bob from Goa". He seemed nice enough and didn't appear to have any fetish gear on or bible in hand. With renewed optimism we entered in through the security gate to be greeted by the most fabulous sight.
A beautifully lit garden with a bar set up full of imported wine, beer and scotch. We were greeted like royalty, not the free loading booze hounds that we are. The house was amazing and the food and drink exceptional but it was all outdone by the quality of the people.
Once again our faith in the Indian people came up trumps and we had a terrific night chatting to a former general of the Bombay Sappers, Goan Bob, Vijay the host and his son Ajay,The chief coroner of Delhi and Sanjay!
Oh yes, Sanjay the person that Vijay was supposed to be calling when he got me. We were very thankful to him for having a similar number to us, something he found hard to understand until it was all explained. We spent the night making friends and basking in the glow of Indian generosity, so happy that we went with our gut and were rewarded with a top night.
Vijay told me a wonderful story about how he came to be friends with a man down the road. He went to buy some of his favourite sweet meats from a shop in Connaught Place and they had none left. The store owner took his address and said he would get some delivered. he gave his address and headed home to await his sweet bounty. About 4 hours later he got a call from a man who asked;
"Hello haji, are you Vijay"?
"yes" replied Vijay
"Did you order some sweet meat" The stranger asked
"Yes I did" replied Vijay
" I have to say it was very tasty" the stranger said
The man in question lived at 64 not 44 and the goods had been delivered to the wrong house. Only after eating it did the man realise it had gone to the wrong number and promptly phoned Vijay to thank him.
That happened 20 years ago and they are still best friend's now. Vijay said it can only bode well for our friendship and I am inclined to agree. We are going to join the family at the country house next weekend - the one shown above - and I can see a firm friendship developing.
Remember next time you are call minding, never be afraid to answer. It could be your new best friend on the other end!
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