THE PRICE OF A CONDOM

I was young and innocent, not to mention brought up in a traditional South Indian home. Parul was visiting me. She met her cousin in London and then came to Liverpool for a week. I had booked a perfect trip up to the Lake District and Scotland. Advanced trains and b’n’b bookings saved us a few good pounds. Now we had surplus penny in the pocket.

Unlike the previous trip, there was no fire alarm or shower fiasco, but arrangements did begin early morning much like before. At 5am, I was in the kitchen preparing ‘poha’ for our journey. Lovingly I added chillies, peanuts and without exaggeration, a whole kilogram of poha in the wok. Parul’s eyes popped. Not only did she laugh at my astuteness but also bet she will not eat any of it. I paid no heed to her challenge, it was packed in a large box and got on to the train with me.

The journey to Lake District was one among the best. We decided to stay by Lake Windermere (Ambleside) for a day and go up to Grasmere. Since I was still a student and this was Parul’s first trip abroad, it was only wise to cut corners. We  refused to eat out, we refused to take the bus, refrained from any unessential expenditures. The bus ride was £3 if not more, each way. Naturally we walked up the hilly trail. Gorgeous no doubt, extremely calm and lonely with not one restaurant in sight. I opened the box of poha and Parul had to admit, ” I underestimated you. This food is our savior.” We reached a parking lot. There was no sign of any lake or tourist information. We tried looking at the map and just as we started heading toward what we thought was the right direction, an old couple who came to get their car, guided us. We had been looking at the map upside-down. Finally we reached the Lake after over 4 hours of hiking. It was most blissful to soak our feet in the cool waters and eat up the rest of that food, knowing we had once again managed to save up a few bucks.

The following morning we were North bound, to Edinburgh. The train station was across the street from our b’n’b, yet we missed our train. We watched the doors close and the train gather speed right before our eyes. Fortunately a taxi was waiting for fools like us and he kindly dropped us off at the next train stop for £30. So much for all our hard work avoiding unnecessary expense. In Edinburg we stayed in a cheap b’n’b, inside a church. Quite dingy , smelly and the only bathroom there was, was perpetually clogged. The most interesting feature however, was the basement. The kitchen, by which I mean the microwave, was in the there too. There also was a pool table, heavy metal music, tons of beer drinking, goth looking folk. The scene down there was rebellious and antithetical to happenings upstairs at the altar.

Once again in Edinburgh we bought packed bread and cheese from the supermarket instead of spending at restaurants; walked miles to the castle and museums instead of taking the bus; tried to use my student card or under 26 discounts whenever possible. The silliest thing we did was, not recharge our phones, which meant there was no communication with folks back home. Just when we thought we were doing very well for ourselves, Parul’s mum got in touch. “You girls cannot cut down on food! If buying food is not affordable, you probably should not travel at all.” That shook us awake. I wasn’t all that astute after-all. We marched straight into a convenience store and picked up all that the heart (stomach) desired including chips, chocolates, naans and curry and vodka. They were of course the cheapest on the rack, nonetheless, an extravagant affair for us.

Final day, final stop was souvenir stores. We had actually forgotten family and friends, but Parul knew she needed to pick up something for loved ones back home. We bought six highland calendars at an impulse, a few mugs and shortbread without much thought. By now we literally had five bucks each, but a few more friends came to mind. It was a question of pride and honor. After scoping the biggest store, we stood by the cashier. There were some little things for under £10. We hung around those baskets examining every item. Key chains, pens, picture frames, lighters, infant socks and fridge magnets. And then there was a basket with small sachets for £2 only. Ahha! There was something we could afford. Parul picked one up. It read whiskey, scotch, liqueur flavors. Very intrigued and rather excited we began smelling it, rubbing it between our fingers, rubbing it on the cheeks, looking inside it against the light and what not. We hadn’t a clue as to what they were! The cashier thoroughly amused and partially confused, cleared her throat. We looked at her unapologetically, until she couldn’t contain her laughter any longer. Call it ignorance or innocence, that was the price we paid for condoms.