And the award for the most brazen Varanasi hawker goes to...
I'm walking through one of the quieter, more isolated ghats, when I see a figure heading my way. Unlike some of the other hawkers, this one isn't yelling at me from a distance. He comes up close to me and is speaking more softly. I can't really make out what he's saying, but I don't see any postcards, bindis, or candles on him, so I assume he must be peddling boat rides.
--Thank you, but I took a boat ride this morning.
No boat ride, madam.
--I don't want it, whatever it is.
But it is best quality!
Yes, best quality hashish. Come to my house, I will show you.
--I'm sure it is, but I don't do hashish.
You don't? Everyone here do it. You should try it.
--I should? Why?
It is good for the sex.
--I don't do sex.
What! You don't do? I do sex every day. I have good Indian woman.
--Well, maybe if I had good Indian woman, I might want to do it every day too..
No, no, no. You must try it with Indian man. You could try it with me, even.
--The hashish, or the sex?
Everything! It is good together.
--But what about your good Indian woman? She won't care?
She ok. Sometimes a man has to do these things...
It was a deal I couldn't resist. Oh what a wild night we had...