I knew the answers to those questions, and I knew that my presence in Sunder defiled the village. I knew that every smile I took from them was swindled. Life on the run puts a lie in the echo of every laugh, and at least a little larceny in every act of love.
There was a knock at the door. I called out that it was open. Anand stepped into my room and announced with distaste that Prabaker had come to see me, with two of his friends. I clapped Anand on the back, smiling at his concern for me, and we walked to the hotel foyer.
‘Oh, Lin!’ Prabaker beamed, when our eyes met. ‘I have the very good news for you! This is my friend, Johnny Cigar. He is a very important friend in the
I shook hands with the two men. Johnny Cigar was almost exactly my height and build, which made him taller and heavier than the Indian average. I judged him to be about thirty years old. His long face was candid and alert. The sand-coloured eyes fixed me with a steady, confident gaze. His thin moustache was trimmed to a precise line over an expressive mouth and determined jaw. The other man, Raju, was only a little taller than Prabaker, and of an even slighter build. His gentle face was stamped with a sadness that invited sympathy. It was the kind of sadness that’s a companion, all too often, to scrupulous and uncompromising honesty. Thick brows hooded his intelligent, dark eyes. They stared at me, those knowing, mindful eyes, from a tired, sagging face that seemed much older than the thirty-five years I guessed him to be. I liked both men on sight.
We talked for a while, the new men asking me questions about Prabaker’s village and my impressions of life there. They asked me about the city, as well, wanting to know my favourite places in Bombay, and the things that I liked to do most. When the conversation seemed likely to continue, I invited them to join me at one of the nearby restaurants for chai.
‘No, no, Lin,’ Prabaker declined, waggling his head. ‘We must be leaving now. Only I wanted you to meet the Johnny and the Raju, and them to be meeting your good self, also. I think that Johnny Cigar has some things to tell you now, isn’t it?’
He looked at Johnny, his eyes and his mouth wide open, and his hands raised in expectation. Johnny glowered at him, but the frown quickly softened into a broad smile, and he turned his attention to me.
‘We made a decision for you,’ Johnny Cigar declared. ‘You will live with us. You are Prabaker’s good friend. There is a place for you.’
‘Yes, Lin!’ Prabaker added quickly. ‘One family is leaving tomorrow. And then, the day after tomorrow, that house will be yours.’
‘But… but…’ I stammered, flattered by the generous gesture, and yet horrified at the thought of life in the slum. I remembered my one visit to Prabaker’s slum only too well. The smell of the open latrines, the heartbreaking poverty, the cramp and mill of people, thousands upon thousands of people-it was a kind of hell, in my memory, a new metaphor that stood for the worst, or almost the worst, that could happen.
‘No problem, Lin,’ Prabaker laughed. ‘You will be too happy with us, you will see. And you know, you’re looking like a different fellow now, it is true, but after a few months with us you will look exactly the same as everyone else there. People will think you are already living in the slum for years and years and years. You will see.’
‘It is a place for you,’ Raju said, reaching out slowly to touch my arm. ‘A safe place, until you can save your money.
The others laughed at that, and I joined them, inspired by their optimism and enthusiasm. The slum was filthy and crowded beyond imagining, but it was free, and there were no C-Forms for the residents. It would give me time to think, I knew, and time to plan.
‘I… well… thanks, Prabu. Thanks, Johnny. Thanks, Raju. I accept your offer. I’m very grateful. Thank you.’
‘No problem,’ Johnny Cigar replied, shaking my hand, and meeting my eye with a determined, penetrating stare.
