Before the clock struck eight this morning,
Anu had summoned an auto-rickshaw to the house.
We were off to the local shops.
On Christmas Eve, as soon as the bakery opens, I buy Christmas cakes.
It’s a bulk purchase:
for ourselves
and for small thank-you gifts,
to the many people who, with Shaji Dalila and Anu, keep our household running smoothly throughout the year.
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Pictures taken in the Muslim Bakery, Kunnumpuram, Fort Cochin.
I had to make my own early-morning tea today:
A challenge I haven’t faced in some time!
Fortunately, it’s a temporary hardship.
Anu, my house-boy, is taking a two-day holiday with his family. They are guests at a typical “big fat” Indian wedding.
As in the West, the arrival of wedding invitations focuses a guest’s mind on choosing the gift.
In this case, purchasing a silk sari.
A daunting challenge for Anu, but gentle amusement for the shop assistants,
Finally we had arrived in Hampi,
The primary goal of our travels.
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Hampi is a city long deserted.
All that remains are the ancient stone temples and palaces: some remarkably intact; others in various degrees of dilapidation.
But the vast site provides excellent opportunities for those wishing to make money,
From both tourists and pilgrims.
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Family businesses
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And children’s market stalls:
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Young men
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And old men:
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All ply their trades
In an exotic world where religious piety and financial profit seem reluctant to part.
We had experienced the magic of its palace and the piety of its temples. Our time in Mysore was almost over.
After taking our last evening meal in one of the city’s many restaurants, we walked back to the hotel through the city’s dark but still crowded streets.
At its height, flapping bamboo blinds on our roof terrace toppled and cracked some of the pots.
It is time to replace them.
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An auto rickshaw brought us to the local terracotta outlet.
Distrustful of the weather, the lady shop-owner has left the larger pots still covered with tarpaulins.
A few are uncovered for my inspection.
Haggling does not come naturally to me. Leaving it to the experts is simpler.
I indicate to Anu, my houseboy, which items interest me. Then bargaining begins.
The process is light-hearted. Broad smiles, ham acting, much arm waving and laughter – all appear vital to a satisfying transaction.
The auto driver and I stand back to enjoy the performance.
Having negotiated a thirty percent reduction of the asking price, both Anu and the owner appear happy.
I pay.
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We are then wedged tightly back into the auto, amidst our fragile goods and cardboard protective padding. Pots and decorative finials are clutched between our arms and thighs. The driver very carefully manoeuvres us home, avoiding pot-holes wherever possible.
Somehow, we and our purchases arrive intact.
The pots are washed and put aside until roof terrace repainting is completed.
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