‘We were here the year the Tsunami hit. We had just reached Poovar when we got the news that the little fishing village we had been staying at on the Chennai coast had been wiped out. People we had spent the last few days with…they were just no more! They were poor you know…incredibly poor, living in shanties. And here we were in all this luxury…Here? Oh more than 3 months now. Coming in from the north this time. Caught a bus, a regular one mind you, from the hills to Delhi.’
‘The bus conductor had taken quite a shine to me,’ she grinned. ‘He insisted we sit right behind him!’
‘Probably so that he could look after you.’ I hazarded.
‘You think?’ The husband winked naughtily at me. Days of lying in the Poovar sun had bequeathed a thick spread of freckles that threatened to merge together into a uniform brown. ‘I was left behind at all the rest stops to guard the cameras while she was escorted to the toilets.’
‘I hardly need to describe them.’ She shuddered. ‘But you would know all about it.’
This British couple, in their late sixties, wintered every year in India experiencing the many faces of ‘real India.’ The chai for her was on the house but when the driver and the conductor opened their tiffin boxes and insisted she eat with them, she had declined firmly. Her husband who watched through the barred windows, keeping the poultry and livestock company, smiled at the gaggle of young village youths who had left everything to stand and gaze.
‘How much do you earn in England? … What could I say? If I told them … it would appear obscene. How could I explain buying power? I made some attempts but then the next question had me stumped… Have you had tea with the queen?’
The memory made him burst out laughing. ‘That village on the outskirts of Corbett was more British than Britain!’
‘But sharing food is very oriental. I for all my metro lifestyle find it very awkward to chomp away by myself with others present.’
‘And that is how it should be. Shouldn’t it? Sharing food … how we have lost the warmth!’ She sighed.
‘Have you been to London?’
I nodded smiling inwardly …people, no matter from which part of the world, were no different.
‘Loved it.’ I said.
‘Really!’ was the incredulous response. ‘What could you have loved about it?’ She splashed her legs and gazed up. ‘I for one could do with more sun.’
‘The bus conductor had taken quite a shine to me,’ she grinned. ‘He insisted we sit right behind him!’
‘Probably so that he could look after you.’ I hazarded.
‘You think?’ The husband winked naughtily at me. Days of lying in the Poovar sun had bequeathed a thick spread of freckles that threatened to merge together into a uniform brown. ‘I was left behind at all the rest stops to guard the cameras while she was escorted to the toilets.’
‘I hardly need to describe them.’ She shuddered. ‘But you would know all about it.’
This British couple, in their late sixties, wintered every year in India experiencing the many faces of ‘real India.’ The chai for her was on the house but when the driver and the conductor opened their tiffin boxes and insisted she eat with them, she had declined firmly. Her husband who watched through the barred windows, keeping the poultry and livestock company, smiled at the gaggle of young village youths who had left everything to stand and gaze.
‘How much do you earn in England? … What could I say? If I told them … it would appear obscene. How could I explain buying power? I made some attempts but then the next question had me stumped… Have you had tea with the queen?’
The memory made him burst out laughing. ‘That village on the outskirts of Corbett was more British than Britain!’
‘But sharing food is very oriental. I for all my metro lifestyle find it very awkward to chomp away by myself with others present.’
‘And that is how it should be. Shouldn’t it? Sharing food … how we have lost the warmth!’ She sighed.
‘Have you been to London?’
I nodded smiling inwardly …people, no matter from which part of the world, were no different.
‘Loved it.’ I said.
‘Really!’ was the incredulous response. ‘What could you have loved about it?’ She splashed her legs and gazed up. ‘I for one could do with more sun.’
‘Looking for a house.’ Her husband chipped in. ‘Would like to settle in India…’ he shot me a glance. ‘But not in Delhi.’
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