I had been lured out to Jaisalmer by a Dutch friend who was hell bent on the idea of taking a camel safari in the desert. I wasn't overly excited by the prospect of spending several days in the blistering heat attached to the back of an ill-tempered beast, but it could have been a great adventure so I tagged along for the ride.

Jaisalmer is an ancient wind swept city on the edge of the Thar desert. It is the most westerly city in India, a mere forty miles from the Pakistani border. Our hostel in the old fort was filled with young travellers either preparing for, or recuperating from camel safaris. It was easy to spot those who had just returned by their bow-legged walk and crispy red skin. I asked a few of these wretched souls for survival tips and was assured that a tight fitting set of underwear would be greatly appreciated. Ganja cookies were another saving grace. They would make the heat bearable while also alleviating the pain of the saddle. I already needed a hat and a pair of sandals, so I set of through the markets collecting items for my survival kit.

As I walked through the crowded streets I noticed a man pushing his way towards me then heard an excited voice saying " Hello Friend!"

My tolerance for street hawkers varied greatly from day to day, I ignored the voice and kept walking.

"Friend, do you remember me? I know you from Delhi" said the voice

I turned around and stared into the strangers' face without any recollection.

"No I've never seen you before" was my reply. I continued down the street.

"But friend, you are mistaken, we have met in Delhi!"

I turned around for another look.

Upon closer inspection I noticed he was sporting a colourful collecting of scabs on his face and was very unsteady on his legs.   His red, iridescent eyes had trouble focusing, the poor bastard must have been nursing a severe hangover.

"Sorry pal I don't remember you, and whatever you're selling I'm not interested."

Like a good street hawker he wouldn't take "No" for an answer and shuffled alongside me offering all manner of goods and services. Gradually his enthusiasm started to wane, the walking was obviously taking its toll. I looked over my shoulder expecting to see him unconscious on the ground but instead he was standing in the middle of the street with a glazed expression on his face.

"Friend, WAIT!" He called out with a tremor of urgency in his voice, then ran to catch up with me.

"My friend........If you see me in Jodhpur will you buy me a beer?"

It was an unusual question. Johdpur was five hours to the east by bus, I'd already spent a few days there and had no particular plans to return.

"Sure mate, anything you say" was my answer

He looked very pleased with himself and asked me to promise I would buy him a beer. I'm not one to make shallow promises but it seemed harmless enough under the circumstances. He didn't exactly look like a man of his word and I was quite sure I would never see him again, so I promised to buy him a beer if I saw him in Johdpur.

The glazed expression returned to his face followed by an eerie smile. He snapped out of his trance and said   "Thank you friend", then staggered off with his halo of flies.

That afternoon we set off on a three-day camel safari in the Thar Desert.   Our guides led us through a handful of tiny Islamic villages comprised of just a few earthen huts and a well. The women stayed indoors when we entered the villages, the men greeted us with contempt. Some of the villages had dry wells, all their water had to be trucked in from the city.   It looked like a hard existence, I could understand why they didn't like being paraded in front of privileged westerners.

At night we slept in the sand dunes while our camels were hobbled and left to graze on the desert scrub.   Our progress on both mornings was hindered as the guides tracked down and captured my friend Erik's camel that had escaped during the night. He was very proud of the large, healthy animal and boasted about the news.   He also sniggered about my camel, saying I'd been stuck with 'the ugly one'.   I thought only a man who had been stranded alone for way too long could discern the difference between attractive and unattractive camels, but apparently it isn't so.

Coincidentally, I read in a Calcutta newspaper three weeks later that the Indian Army had tested their first nuclear device in the very same desert, not far from the villages we had passed through. This tactless rattling of swords was further degraded to mere schoolyard antics by the fact that the missile had been named after Prithvi Raj, a ruler of Delhi in the 1100s who had chased out a marauding Islamic invader.  

Exactly three weeks after India's nuclear muscle flexing, Pakistan tested THEIR first nuclear device in the VERY SAME desert, possibly nuking more nomadic tribesman and quickly rectifying the imbalance of power in their volatile relationship. In a somewhat karmic twist of fate India had totally overlooked the next page in Indo/Pakistani history, when the marauding islamic invader Shahab-Ud-Deen Ghaury returned with 200,000 horses and three hundred elephants, and slaughtered Prithvis army. So of course the Pakistani Army named their missile after Ghaury.   A perfect example of why the world is a much safer place now both nations have nuclear weapons.

By the time we returned to Jaislamer all were dehydrated and covered with saddle sores, it was now our turn to parade around the hostel licking our wounds. I spent a few more days exploring the city, then booked a bus ticket for Udaipur, in south west Rajasthan.

The bus to Udaipur was plagued with engine troubles, as if protesting maltreatment it broke down every hour. Each time the passengers including myself would disembark and watch the driver fiddle around under the hood. By late afternoon we were running three hours behind schedule, another bus had been sent to meet us in Johdpur. We would transfer there and continue the journey to Udaipur.

The main street of Johdpur is lined with shops and hotels, it is a wide carriageway that accommodates more than its fare share of traffic, it also hosts a busy railway station and a vast array of bus stands, street vendors and restaurants.

Our decrepit bus lurched into the main street directly behind its' replacement. I shouldered my pack and started towards the new bus, I had taken no more than ten steps when I heard an exited voice behind me say "Hello friend!"

As usual I ignored the voice and kept walking.

"Friend, remember me? I know you from Jaisalmer!"

I turned in the direction of the voice and stared in disbelief.

"Friend, you promised me a beer if you saw me in Johdpur, and now we are in Johdpur and you are seeing me!"

A list of conceivable scenarios flashed through my mind, although none of them made any sense. I was already weary from the bus trip, this added confusion was too much for one day. My scrambled emotions manifested in the form of rage......

"YOU BASTARD!!   HOW THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?" I yelled at the bum.

"Ah friend, you remember!" he said with a smug grin

A beer in Rajasthan costs the same as a hotel room for the night, I was in no hurry to fork it over.

"Don't give me this FRIEND shit, you can go FUCK yourself!"

His smile vanished suddenly when he realised he might not get his beer after all. When I started towards the waiting bus he clung onto my pack and yelled that I was breaking a promised.

I couldn't fathom how it had happened but I knew it was obviously a scam.   I had indeed promised him a beer, but I did not know he was a 'transient clairvoyant' at the time! I was torn between not wanting to break my word and not wanting to be ripped off yet again.

As we argued I noticed a small crowd of shady characters had gathered in a nearby alley and were paying close attention to our movements. He looked over his shoulder at them a few times, I sensed it was a potentially dangerous situation. My bus was waiting so I had to diffuse the argument quickly. I offered him a Thumbs Up! Cola instead, although one tenth the price of a beer it seemed a fair compromise to me.   He ungraciously accepted my offer rather than walk away empty handed.

I boarded the bus to Udaipur and spent the rest of the trip wondering what had actually transpired in the street. I thought back to my first day in the country when I was stopped by a man in the street who told me the names and birthdays of my family members and girlfriend, then asked me for 100 rupees. I was so shocked I had given him the money.

After three months in India I came to the conclusion that there are a multitude of unusual talents that have been nurtured through generations to become legitimate ways of making a living, or funding your drinking habits if you are so inclined.  

In hindsight it seemed a shame that the clairvoyant bum hadn't focused his efforts on playing the lottery instead. He could have owned a brewery by now.