They pulled out the only chair there was for me and this is what I saw on the wall.
The man of the house had no legs. He slid in on a make-shift 'cart'; his wife stood proudly next to him. I asked about the pictures, "What do all these have in common?"He laughed and spoke in halting Hindi, "Kuchch nahin, lekin sab ko respect karna hai. (Nothing, but one respects everyone)"
A whole lot of people had gathered in that little room, some spilling on the doorstep. Someone bought a cola for me. I was asked not to leave without having dinner with them. It was a touching gesture. I said, “Next time” and just so that they did not feel bad I started discussing the nuances of various uthhppams.
It was a South Indian family. I tried my little Tamil with them to much guffaws all round.
And then of course as I was leaving I said, with complete idiocy, "Vanakkam". It means welcome.
I may never meet them again, or I may. But even in that faux pas I think I had welcomed them into my little world as they had welcomed me.
They were fighting to preserve their homes that were going to be bulldozed. I have found out that they have won the case. I smile at the memory of that wall. I can only hope that walls too have memories.
