I went upstairs to settle my accounts with Mrs. Mukerji and found a little package waiting for me. Inside was tea from the “tea garden” (tea plantation) that her son manages, a book of poetry by Rabindranath Tagore (an Indian Nobel Laureate) and a biography of a Polish poet (in honour of my Slavic heritage). I was touched by the thoughtful gifts. It’s hard to believe that in two days I won’t be having breakfast with her or her daughter, at least not for a very long while.
An early morning walk, a huge breakfast and some frenzied writing occupied my morning.
You keep talking about writing but you never let us see any of it!” You say. Well, kind stranger, you’re in luck. I’ve finished drafting and formatting the two ‘guides’ I wanted to write (or rather, realized I wanted to write) in the course of my time here.