Whilst eating
my dinner this evening at my local food court I was tapped on the shoulder by
my friend and the repairer of my shoes Mr. Santosh. At the time I was chewing
on a succulent piece of breast of duck and was reading an email on my
Blackberry. When I was tapped by Mr. Santosh I jumped a little in surprise.
I was also
listening to music on my I-Pod whilst I was eating my dinner so I did not see
nor hear Mr. Santosh approach. The song that I was listening to at the time was
"Blinded by the Light" by the Manfred Man Earth Band.
I am that old.
The email that
I was reading was a ridiculous diatribe on a non-sensical work matter that I
had received from some English Fucker. I was on the verge of replying with a
vitriolic attack but upon arrival of Mr. Santosh I decided to simply ignore and
delete it instead.
"Good
be evening to you Mr. Peter" Mr. Santosh beamed at me.
"It is
most wondrous to be seeing you here and again"
"Good
be evening to you Mr. Santosh" I replied.
"It is
so nice to see you as well".
I stood up and
we shook hands warmly.
"I am
sorry I did not hear you. I was listening to my music" I apologized.
I unplugged my
iPod and put down my Blackberry and invited Mr. Santosh to sit down and join
me.
"But
you are eating your most delicious roasted plate of meats and I will not be
wanting to be interrupting you Mr. Peter"
"It is
quite OK Mr. Santosh" I insisted and I pushed my plate to one side. I had pretty much
finished my meal anyway and it is always good to see Mr. Santosh. I very much
enjoy his company.
"I
have eaten my fill and was about to get a cup of tea. Please join me"
"Are
you being sure Mr. Peter?
"I am
very sure Mr. Santosh"
I beckoned to
a bespectacled young Singaporean waitress who was hovering near by and asked
her if she could kindly bring Mr. Santosh and I some green tea. Mr. Santosh
pulled up a chair and we both sat down. He immediately looked down at my shoes
and made a disapproving clucking noise.
"Your
shoes are being needing an immaculate of polishes Mr. Peter"
"They
are a bit worse for wear" I agreed.
I was wearing
my fairly scruffy black work shoes that I have not polished for a while. Mr.
Santosh is a great connoisseur of shoes and a master cobbler. I first met him
and his delightful wife Mihika a couple of years ago at their small shop in Ballestier
road. Mr. Santosh has repaired several pairs of my shoes and Mihika has taken
up the hems on a couple of pairs of my trousers. They are both delightful
people who I am very fond of. They are warm and genuine and they are kind and
considerate.
"How
is Mihika?" I enquired.
"Mihika
is being luscious with great happiness Mr. Peter. Venya has being visiting and
we are on the moon with great joy"
Venya is Mr.
Santosh's daughter and only child. I have never actually met her as she is
studying in New York. I have however been shown many photographs of her by
Santosh and Mihika. She is in her final year of Law at NYU. They are quite
rightfully very proud of her.
She is their
everything.
"Venya
is here now?" I asked.
"She
is being and now going" Mr. Santosh replied.
"So
she has gone?"
"Yes
she is been gonning" he said sadly.
I could see
tears well up in Mr. Santosh eyes when he told me this. The love he has for his
daughter and the incredible pride he displays when he talks about her moves me
a lot. It touches and chokes me. It has moved me before too when Mihika and he
have shown me album after album of photographs that they have of her. I have
seen nearly all of her school reports and academic achievements. They keep
these in plastic folders in their tiny shop.
Venya is a
truly outstanding student. She has excelled in every subject that she has taken
in High School and University and she has plans to be a Human Rights Lawyer.
When she graduates she wants to return to India to help people less fortunate
than herself. She has inherited great qualities from her parents. I think this
is wonderful. The adoration of her family is much deserved.
I have told
Santosh and Mihika this on several occasions and they swell with pride.
Mr. Santosh
and I had a very good chat over our tea. We talked about the terrible pollution
that had inflicted Singapore over the past couple of weeks and the game of
cricket that we both love. We agreed that Australia did not have much of a
chance of beating England in the upcoming Ashes series and we continued our
long running debate as to whether the Indian batsman Sachin Tendulkar is better
than Donald Bradman. We laughed and we verbally jousted on a number of
subjects and time passed very quickly.
When Mr.
Santosh departed he shook my hand with both of his and he once again expressed
concern over the condition of my shoes. He invited me to come and drink tea
with him and Mihika at their shop this weekend and I told him that I would.
They are both very decent and nice people and I like visiting them at their
shop and talking with them.
I like it a
lot.
As Mr. Santosh
left he told me, "You are pleased to be keeping very well Mr.
Peter because you are be getting fatter and your eyes are looking most tired
and in redness and puffiness"
I told Mr.
Santosh that I had been working very long hours lately an I was in fact quite
tired a lot of the time.
"You
keep well too Mr. Santosh and please say hello to Mihika for me"
He grinned in
delight and trotted off. As I walked home I thought a lot about what great
sacrifices Mr. Santosh and his wife have made for Venya. They work so very hard
in their tiny shop to give their daughter every opportunity they possibly can.
My admiration
of them is deep.
As I am
writing this I have realized that I have written the word 'well' a couple of
times. Once in the context of Mr. Santosh tears when he was telling me that
Venya had come and gone from Singapore and again when he told me to be
"keeping well".
The English
language is a funny thing and there are many words like 'well' that have
different meanings. It has made me think too about the hole-in-the-ground wells
which I am rather fond of. I don't really know why but I just like them. The
idea of digging a hole in the ground to find water appeals to me and there is
some beauty and art in their construction.
This is a well
near my friend Bhim's house. This well is nearly always dry. Virtually every
well in Kathmandu is. There is a water crisis in the dry season in Nepal. There
are many crises there in fact. Life is very tough. Bhim and his beautiful wife
Saraswoti line up every day with hundreds of other Nepalese families to draw
water from this well to drink and to wash with.
Often there is
no water at all in the well.
Interestingly
and coincidentally the most beautiful well that I have ever seen was in India.
It is spectacular and mind blowing. I can assure you that this is a well.
It is a big and ancient one.
This next well
is located in a village called Abheneriin in Jaipur. This is in the Indian
state of Rajasthan. I can't recall the correct Hindi name of the well but it is
also known as 'The Well of Many Steps" - for quite obvious reasons.
I shall show
Mr. Santosh these pictures and ask him what the correct name of this well is
when I take tea with him and Mihika this weekend. He is very knowledgeable
about all facts concerning his native India.
It is said
that we never know the worth of water until the well runs dry. I shall tell Mr.
Santosh this too.
He normally
likes such sayings.
He may well
like it.
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