Are You Experienced?

by William Sutcliffe

  Oh my God! It was Liz. She may have been wearing Indian clothes, but it was definitely her. She still had the same effortfully serene walk.

  I tossed the Frisbee to Oompt, retired from the game and watched her take a seat in the furthest corner of the departure hall. I wasn’t sure whether or not she had seen me. After a moment of indecision, I started walking towards her with my heart pumping fast. I tried to breathe slowly in order to help mask my anxiety, but this just got me out of breath and made me look even more anxious.

  When I got close, I saw that not only was she in a white sari, she even had one of those red blobs on her forehead. What a twat!

  ‘Hi!’

  ‘Hi.’

  She shot me a sneer, then looked away. I had felt briefly sympathetic towards her, seeing her turn up at the airport all on her own, but when I saw that scornful look, I was instantly reminded of how much I hated her.

  I decided to be friendly, though, since I knew that was the best way to annoy her.

  ‘Isn’t this amazing?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Us. Both here.’

  ‘We are booked on the same flight, you know. It’s not exactly what I’d call a huge surprise.’

  ‘Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten about that.’

  She glared at me, and silence descended.

  ‘When you first walked in, I thought you were an albino.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Then I saw it was you, and I couldn’t believe it! Dressed in all this gear.’

  ‘I’ve simply adapted to the Indian climate and culture. That is the point of coming here, in case you hadn’t realized.’

  ‘Looks weird, though. You’re going to stand out a mile on the Piccadilly line.’

  ‘My parents are picking me up, actually.’

  ‘You going to stop wearing this stuff when you get home, then?’

  ‘What do you mean by home?’

  ‘Home. Your mum and dad’s house.’

  ‘I don’t consider that to be home any more. I’ve moved on.’

  ‘Where’s home, then?’

  ‘Wherever I want it to be.’

  ‘So you’re going to stick with the sari, then?’

  She looked at me contemptuously.

  ‘I’ll probably adapt to England when I arrive, but for the time being I can’t actually remember what it’s like.’

  ‘Cold. Wet.’

  ‘Still a moaner, I see.’

  ‘That’s not a moan. I’m glad to be going back. I’ve had a laugh, but – you know – I’ve got to get on with my life.’

  As those words came out of my mouth, I felt my head go dizzy. Suddenly, for the first time, it hit me that I really was about to go home. I was about to climb into a metal box that would take me back to England, and back to real life. In just over a fortnight, I’d be starting university. I’d have to work – read proper books – write things.

  ‘Get on with your life? That’s typical. You’re a typical Western careerist.’

  ‘Why – what are you planning to do? You’re not going to be able to keep up this hippie-bullshit act in England, you know. It’s back to the real world, now.’

  ‘I can’t believe that you’ve still gor the same attitude. You’ve spent three months here, and the whole experience just hasn’t made the slightest dent.’

  ‘Dent? Hasn’t made a dent? Believe me – I’ve been through a whole car crash here. I’m a completely different person.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I’m just… you know, much more grown up. I was a kid – now I’m a proper, confident adult.’

  ‘You were far too cocky in the first place, Dave. I don’t think increased confidence is exactly going to turn you into a better person.’

  ‘Cocky is different from confident. That’s exactly the point. Kids are cocky, adults are quietly confident.’

  ‘And you’re quietly confident now, are you?’

  ‘If you want to put it like that, yes.’

  She creased up with laughter.

  ‘Fuck off, Liz. I don’t need this.’

  ‘You’re hilarious.’

  ‘Don’t patronize me, you pretentious bitch.’

  ‘Ooh! Is this you being quietly confident?’

  She started laughing again.

  ‘Look – sort yourself out, here. If you’re going to act like this, I… I might just find myself telling James about you and your Intimate Yoga man.’

  The laughter stopped.

  ‘Where did you hear that?’

  ‘From a certain little birdie I bumped into. And we got on rather well, as it happens.’

  ‘You bumped into…?’

  ‘I shan’t say more. But they told me exactly what happened.’

  ‘Look, Dave – don’t let’s forget that you spent the majority of the year trying to shag your best mate’s girlfriend, which doesn’t put you in much of a position to blackmail.’

  ‘Who said anything about blackmail? I just suggested that we try and make an effort to sustain some kind of civil relationship. Neither of us wants rumours circulating in England, do we?’

  She gave me one of her spine-tinglingly evil looks.

  ‘With any luck, we’ll never see each other again,’ she said, lifting a book from her lap and starting to read.

  I watched her reading for a few seconds until it became clear that, as usual, Liz had got the last word.

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ I muttered half-heartedly and loped off.

  PART THREE

  Dave the traveler

  Something unrealistic

  Driving home from Heathrow, I felt almost as if I was seeing London for the first time. I was amazed by how clean it all was, how there were proper roads with pavements everywhere, how all the shops had enormous glass windows at the front, how the only animals were plump little dogs on leads, and how all the cars moved around as if they were in a road-safety film. No one seemed to be just hanging out – people were all marching around, purposefully going somewhere. Everyone was in their own little bubble, hidden behind glass, or a raincoat, or even just a fast walk.

  And for some reason English number-plates all looked really silly. The whole place seemed more like a kind of Toy town than a city. There was something unrealistic about everything – as if it was all a parody of silly little England.

  The first thing I did when I walked through the front door was to gulp down a glass of water straight from the tap. What a luxury! Mum offered to cook me whatever I wanted, and I asked for a steak with green beans and new potatoes. She instantly produced it all from the fridge and started cooking, saying that she’d known exactly what I’d want and had bought it all in advance.

  While I ate, she asked me so many questions about the trip that I somehow failed to tell her anything. The minute I embarked on a story, she’d interrupt me after a couple of sentences to ask what I’d eaten, where I’d slept, how I’d washed my clothes, and all sorts of tedious crap which somehow stopped me from ever explaining what the trip had actually felt like. The more I talked, the less I seemed to explain anything. She just couldn’t understand what I was talking about. There was simply no point of contact between her world and mine. It was like trying to explain the rules of basketball to a jellyfish.

  Before long, she lost interest and started telling me about everything that had happened at home since I left, none of which seemed to amount to anything. As far as I could tell, everything was exactly the same as before, and yet her version of the last three months took up almost as much time as mine. Watching her jabber away, I was amazed that she could talk at such length without it dawning on her how boring she was.

  The steak, which was stunningly delicious, gave me stomach cramps. I hadn’t tried to digest anything that solid for months – in fact, my dog-burger was probably the only meal I’d eaten in India that had required any chewing.

  I put a thumb in my mouth and did a quick check to see if my
teeth were all still properly attached, then went for a stroll to try and walk off the stomach pain. The weather was simply gorgeous – a grey sky, with scudding clouds blotting out the sun, and a deliciously chilly wind that gave me goose-bumps on my arms. It was such a joy to be cold – to feel the crisp air in my throat and chest, with the wind stinging my cheeks, and my nose turning red. I stood still and took my first proper lungful of English air. Aahhh!

  Trudging through the soggy grass of my local park, I was struck by the incredible greenness of everything. I’d become used to lurid food and brown landscapes, but suddenly everything was the other way round. Again, it all looked slightly unconvincing. Nothing felt quite real. I started touching and squeezing things for extra confirmation of their existence – plucking strands of grass, stroking a wet bench and twanging leaves from their branches.

  On the way home from the park, I popped into my local corner shop for a bar of proper, real, English Dairy Milk chocolate. (You can get a version of the same thing in India, with the same wrapper, but it has the texture of pastry.) I had the usual ‘All right, mate, how’s things, Arsenal aren’t looking too good’ conversation with the guy behind the counter, then found myself asking him where he was from.

  He gave me a weird look.

  ‘I’ve just been in India,’ I explained. ‘That’s why you haven’t seen me for a while.’

  ‘Oh, right!’ he said, smiling broadly. In fifteen years of using his shop I realized that I’d never particularly seen him smile before. ‘Gujarat,’ he said. ‘Originally my family’s from Gujarat.’

  ‘Cool. I only passed through Gujarat. What’s it like?’

  ‘Ah – very beautiful. The most beautiful place in the world. You shouldn’t ask me, though, I’m biased.’

  ‘When d’you come here, then?’

  ‘I was fourteen.’

  ‘Fourteen!’

  ‘Yeah. I go back once each year. To see my family.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Where did you visit, then?’

  ‘Oh, I flew to Delhi, then I went up to Himachal Pradesh…’

  ‘Aah – Himachal Pradesh is beautiful.’

  ‘Amazing. That bit was incredible. Then I went across to Rajasthan, down to Goa…’

  ‘By plane?’

  ‘Train and bus, mainly.’

  ‘You went from Rajasthan to Goa without flying? Are you crazy?’

  ‘I didn’t really know how far it was. I kind of regretted it, actually. Then I went down to Bangalore and on to Kerala.’

  ‘I’ve never visited the south. One day, maybe – but with work and children…’

  ‘It’s tough.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘You should go. It’s beautiful.’

  ‘So I’ve been told.’

  ‘It really is amazing.’

  ‘Will you ever go back?’ he said.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘God – I haven’t really thought about it. You know – it’s hard work travelling there. It’s not exactly relaxing. But… maybe in a few years… if I get another chance. Yeah, I wouldn’t mind going back.’

  Our conversation tailed away, and I wandered outside feeling oddly perturbed that I was already saying I wanted to go back to India. After only a few hours in England, all the unpleasant parts of my trip were tumbling from my memory. Rationally, I could still just about weigh things up and remember that for the majority of the time I’d been miserable, but I felt so happy that I’d done it, and had survived, that my positive emotions were already beginning to swamp everything else. In my mind, the trip was turning itself into an amorphous good thing. I was becoming incapable of reconciling the pleasure of having done it with the misery of doing it, and the feeling of pleasure was so immediate, and so powerful, that it swept away all rival emotions. I couldn’t really remember what the agonizing bus journeys had felt like – I couldn’t revisit the sensation of having that brutally hard seat slap my bruised arse and throw me on to the floor, but I could remember what I’d seen out of the window and how the first glimpse of the mountains had made my heart surge.

  All my contradictory feelings were passing through a filter which was picking out anything unpleasant or painful. I could already sense that I was going to end up with clear, uncomplicated, positive memories. My journey round India was already reducing itself into just another person’s ‘amazing experience’.

  I’m going to have to do this

  I’d been home for a couple of days when I got a phone call from James. There was such a lot to say and, more importantly, such a lot to avoid saying, that I kept our phone conversation short and arranged to meet up in a pub later. I didn’t mention Liz, and hoped she wouldn’t come, but I noticed him using the word ‘we’ where he ought to have been saying ‘I’, which I took as an ominous sign.

  That evening, both of them turned up at the pub together, arm in arm. My heart sank. I had no idea what she had told him about our trip, and how much I would be able to say without contradicting her.

  James was significantly skinnier than I remembered him, and his neat hair had been transformed into a straggly mop which dangled in blonde waves on either side of his now tuftily bearded face. He was wearing sandals, jeans and a stretched, misshapen T-shirt. He used to look like Richard Clayderman as school prefect, but now he was Jesus-with-a-hangover as student-union rep.

  Liz was wearing a short skirt and a body-hugging top that made my balls gurgle. The sari and the red spot had vanished.

  As soon as James saw me, he screamed my name across the whole length, of the pub, then bounded over and gave me a hug. This was rather intimidating, since it meant that either he still didn’t know what had happened, or he knew everything, and was biding his time before he planted a knife in my back. Liz smiled and gave me a peck on the cheek. There was no trace of India left in her body language.

  With James at the bar queuing for drinks, the atmosphere instantly thickened. Liz stared at me blankly, giving nothing away, while I stared at her, trying to guess what on earth she could be thinking.

  ‘You ditched the sari, then?’ I said, eventually.

  ‘What’s it to you?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Have you told him?’ I said.

  ‘Told him what?’

  ‘About us.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

  ‘Right. Silly me.’

  ‘I just said that we went, had fun and came back.’

  ‘You didn’t even tell him that we separated?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to have to lie to him, so I told him about the trip without really mentioning you.’

  ‘You lied to him because you don’t want to have to lie to him.’

  ‘Oh, God. Here we go again. Dave and his tedious games.’

  ‘Don’t start, Liz. I’d just like to know what I can and can’t say.’

  ‘As little as possible, if you can manage that for once.’

  ‘Oh, so I’m the talkative one now, am I? That’s rich.’

  ‘Drop it. He’s coming back.’

  James arrived at the table to find us shining brittle smiles at one another. Liz put her arm around him and, for my benefit, gave him a sexy kiss on the neck.

  ‘You’re a lucky man,’ I said, with a sarcasm pitched only for Liz.

  ‘I certainly am,’ said James, smiling wanly and stroking her arm.

  ‘So how was your trip, then?’ I said.

  ‘Incredible. Best thing I’ve ever done. And yours?’

  ‘Yeah – good. You know, there were a few difficult bits, but – basically – it was an amazing experience.’

  ‘Liz somehow persuaded you to leave cosy little England ?’

  ‘Somehow.’

  ‘How did she do it, then? You always said you never wanted to go further away than Watford.’

  ‘You know – she’s a persuasive person.’

  ‘You’re telling me.’ />
  ‘It was a mutual decision,’ said Liz. ‘A marriage of convenience.’

  ‘And you two got on OK ?’

  There was a longlish pause in which we avoided catching one another’s eye.

  ‘Like a house on fire,’ I said, in a tone of voice which made it sound like a distinctly odd metaphor for social harmony.

  A silence descended, with James eyeing us suspiciously.

  ‘Did something happen?’ he asked.

  ‘Like what?’ I said.

  ‘Between you two.’

  Liz and I both looked at our glasses.

  ‘I’m getting a weird feeling,’ James continued, ‘that you two…’

  ‘What?’ Liz’s lips were pursed, white with tension.

  ‘… didn’t get on, or something.’

  I felt myself and Liz both deflate slightly with relief. James wasn’t about to guess the truth.

  Then I suddenly wondered why I should feel relieved. I didn’t have to lie for Liz. I was under no obligation to her. She had treated me like an arsehole and had deserted me in the middle of India. There was no reason why I had to lie on her behalf in order to help sustain her doomed, dishonest relationship. I had almost forgotten the vital fact that I hated her guts. The only real issue was my friendship with James, but if he carried on going out with Liz, then that was all over, anyway.

  In a sudden, light-headed moment, I realized that I had nothing to lose. I could have some fun.

  ‘You know what?’ I said, with a grin. ‘I thought you were going to say that you thought we’d slept together.’

  James burst out laughing. I burst out laughing. Confusion running riot over Liz’s features, she also forced out a few chuckles and began to bite her nails.

  When the laughter died down, I smiled at her and said, ‘Did you think he was going to say that?’

  She gave me an evil stare by way of an answer.

  ‘You didn’t get on, did you?’ said James.