wednesday, june 5th
saat rang ke sapne
narider was the hottest bowler in the whole school. he could bowl out a googlie any day, and he made the school team even though he was only in class eight. kamal wrote delightful stories, his mind always on the most beautiful girl or diamond or mountain. all he saw was beauty.
and parishi wrote me the sweetest letter the day that i left, so full of error that i realised with a jolt that of course he was dyslexic but how could i explain that to anyone in india. jetender made me laugh. he could make anyone laugh with his stories about what he saw on mtv india the night before. and those boys in class ten who never studied and always asked me dumb questions about england. that little angel in class five who taught me my first string sentences of hindi.
oh, and the girls. the girls who were still in school despite the fact that most dropped out in order to get married or to help out at home. these girls i choreographed a dance with to the song 'jhoothi jhoothi' by udit narayan which i still know every fucking word to. the girls that i ate ice-creams with one saturday.
the little dots i taught the alphabet to in the kindergarden class. and down in southern tamil nadu, little dileepe who always forgot to carry the zero. and the girl whose name i forgot, the girl who brought a single rose for me to wear in my hair every morning.
how could i forget all these people, the ones who are in danger. i miss them all so much all of a sudden i don't know what to do with myself. it's been four years since i left india, and four years ago was when we all felt the aftershocks of a nuclear bomb, that day when it rained dust. and i worry for them and i wonder where they are and what else can i do but hope and pray that they are going to be ok.
and sitting in therpay today i just thought, man, this is nothing.
suds at