Youth Without Youth (Hidden Tremors-Part 4/4) : The Young India

Kartikey Sehgal
–Drugs and economic disparity in the Indian home of the Dalai Lama. Standalone story. Other parts of the series here.

“Hey gorgeous, nice shoes”, they call out to a foreigner who is wearing shining dark red shoes. She turns to look at them; “thanks”. As a rule, the duo avoids complementing Indian women and any woman with a man. “Hey baby! You look beautiful” and “Wow, you are lovely”, they call out to women in their accented English.

I sit next to them and see that many women turn to look at the boys. Some of them smile and a few just walk on. Years of staying at Dharamsala has taught them to converse with foreigners. They tell me that the secret to stay out of trouble is to approach “only those cars that are without drivers”. Thus far, they have not faced problems from the women. “Foreign women are very open”, adds Jeleani, gleefully. His comrade Shahid adds, “Oh yes baby”. [photo above: Jeleani (l), Shahid (r)]

The duo own a small shop by the road at some distance from where I am staying. I see that they are not selling anything to the women; none of the metal jewellery, bags and postcards. “Business is just ok”, says Jeleani. “Theek hi hai”, according to Shahid. Unlike Jeleani and Shahid, another Kashmiri, Tariq Ahmad does not own a shop but leads customers to a shop of Kashmiri antiques owned by a North Indian man. But Tariq is spending most of his time dusting the shop. “Sale is low”.

He can converse in English but is happy to recite with me a poem by poet Allama Iqbal, at the end of which he tells me, “We are brothers. These politicians create problems in Kashmir”.

Tariq, Jeleani and Shahid live in an entirely different world from the one at Kashmir. Here they realise that they are equals and that they are not discriminated against either by the Tibetans or the local Himachal lads. Of course, night life is non-existent in the region but they hook up with their friends for beer and whisky. When there is little cash, then they can buy the easily available and cheap ‘desi daaru’. The dark streets are good enough to roam around a little drunk.

Work also comes a bit easy these days as sales are low but recession is high; they are hoping that the foreigners spend money on their goods. Tariq’s friend, also a Kashmiri, spends his time talking to foreigners. He works in a shop alongside and often stuns foreigners with what he calls his “universal accent” or the mid-Atlantic accent, although he has never stepped outside India. Even if the foreign girls don’t buy the Pashminas and sweaters he hopes to be remembered forever.

These young men are single and away from familiar surroundings. They won’t reveal the how and where but they say that they get lucky with women. I learn that despite its invisibility prostitution is prevalent and the trio know about the importance of condoms; they are available easily and in every other shop at McLeodganj. “Without them, what will the foreigners ever do?” quips a local Himachal lad.

I ask them about their love life and Jeleani and Shaid open up to me. They have come here to sell exotic goods but they end up “being more exotic than what we sell”. Foreign women like their fair skin and “deep brown” or green coloured eyes.

“Some of them don’t believe that we are from India”.
“Our skin colour and accented language makes them feel like we are Europeans”.
“They feel at home with us”.

In short, they are more in demand than their goods.

“The same goes for the exotic Tibetans and some of the local Himachal lads”; I leave the duo laughing over a private joke.

But unlike them Tariq is more serious about the decreasing sales. As I am about to leave, we hug and he asks me the rate of the buses that leave for Delhi. “In case, if I ever have to”.

Tariq Ahmad

This concludes the four part series of ‘Hidden Tremors’.

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The Young India

Youth Without Youth (Hidden Tremors-Part 4/4)

on January 14, 2010

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