O.K. On with the tale

Back in Madras I met an actor named K.N. Singh. Many guys took on the name Singh for professional reasons as it seems a common name for westerners to associate with India but it is a name of the Sikh religion - Mr. K.N. was not a Sikh but a Hindu who had transitioned into the roles as the bad guy in talkies from the days of silent Indian film. He was a full on drunk story teller of great charm and wonderful tale telling abilities. Of course as a young female I caught his fancy in a very Platonic way and he wanted me by his side to hear all his tales long into the night. He was heading back to Bombay as were many of my friends - Helen and the Panamanian Consulate so the invite was extended to head for Bombay by flight across the pointy part of India. Indian Airlines. Oh boy. Scary.

Now this is something about India - especially in those days. This was very much the time when just the very smallest shoots of modernization was coming into India. The Military had most of the advances and that was where the money was - not into infrastructure like phone lines, television etc. - the airlines were run by Indian companies and the staff had to be recruited from the upper classes in order to get educated people to do the work but they do not have a service component to their class structure. They are to be waited upon - not do the waiting on others. Now granted this is from my point of view as a Westerner and a young one at that. The stewardesses were not friendly nor did they smile and reassure the passengers when the turbulence hit the plane - I was very nervous and wished I had drugs. Alcohol is not my drug of choice when my stomach is already in my mouth.

We landed in one piece and I stayed with Helen. She was moving with her husband to a new apt. in the main city of Bombay. It was a penthouse - three structures from the Taj Mahal Hotel in front of the Gateway to India built for Queen Victoria. The Bay of Bengal was the view from the large patio/deck in front. Quite posh. It was the same spot as the terrorism attack of a couple of years ago - the guys with the guns from Pakistan. The area has changed and developed much since then but I did recognize the footage.

I visited with K.N. Singh- he took me around with his driver - to visit friends from his early life. We went to an apartment building in the city to meet a friend from his college days. The man lived with his wife and 2 daughters in a one bedroom apt in a walk up of a few stories. The man had had a stroke and was paralyzed on his left side. His daughters worked in offices and they seemed quite poor by any standard but cheerfully welcomed us into their lives. The flask was offered to the old friend and tea was made for me.

I had to pee while there and they had me pee in their kitchen sink - which was a raised lip of about a brick height in the corner of the kitchen. I was quite proficient at squatting on ledges of things like curbs so this wasn't too difficult. They also don't use toilet paper - anyone traveling or fighting in the middle east with the local guys know this - one uses water and the left hand - and drip dry. I was glad I was young and adventurous. I took it all in stride and kept smiling.

From there we went to visit an "Old Jewess" his words - who was in silent movies with him but couldn't transition to Hindi when talkies came in - so she retired. The house was very Gothic with cobwebs in the corners hanging down like grey/black drapes. The furniture was all antique and well kept. Everything was like a museum of art and everything was old. The servant was an old skinny Indian lady with white hair pulled back - she wore a black sari - which really set off this white hair with her dark skin. She hung out around the stove and smoked cigarettes.

The actress friend was lovely and also a delightful story teller. She was heavy set and dealing well with the circumstances life had handed her. It was all the feeling of the formerly wealthy and famous in the declining years of life. The three of us played gin rummy and laughed and talked - we sent the driver out for Chinese food - yes - the best Chinese food in the world was in India. God bless the Chinese - they are all over the world with their restaurants and help those of us who haven't developed a taste for burning food yet. We finally wrapped it up when the "adults" were good and drunk - thank God for sober drivers - my friend guy could barely walk by the time we left. Again, alcohol was not my choice - especially when life and limb depend on sharp thinking.

He had the driver take us to his apartment. His wife came to greet her husband - as only a patient wife of 40 some years can do and accepted that he brought home a young lady without so much as a word of reproach. I slept on the couch bed and oh how I wish I could sleep like that now.

Post for now and continue later.