Deepavali

The young fellow reeked a bit, but it was his smile that first suggested the state of elation. On taking the seat he had knocked the table and eventually offered a delayed apology. It took him a short while to realise someone else was seated opposite. During busy times at Tasvee the patrons will approach a spare seat and politely enquire for sharing. A free and relaxed locale; rarely does anyone plonk themselves down uninvited. When this chap first dropped into the chair the seat was straddled somehow sideways so that his back had jolted the table. The lad was pissed, nicely, happily and contentedly so. Tasvee didn't sell alcohol. Throughout the almost five months no more than a couple of drunks have been sighted the length and breath of Geylang Road. It's always harder to tell with an unfamiliar foreigner, someone outside your cultural range.

         The congratulations offered this fellow were taken in stride. It was his New Year, he explained, as if a white man was unlikely to have known this additional piece of information. Apologies came for his English. In his head he had what he wanted to say, he explained, but it didn't come out of his mouth right. This was regardless of his present state: it was his usual problem—it seemed clear this is what was meant. This was confirmed when he went on to say the same thing happened to him in the case of his native Tamil. The lad had assumed a peculiar, personal problem of his own. Cricket came up. He liked cricket; not football. India's position as Number One nation in the world he mentioned proudly, but at the same time with some part modesty introduced into his smile. It was a clear adjustment. Then Tendulkar. The little maestro this lad had not in his brain: he had him in his heart. To be sure he was understood, a second time he said the same thing again. All India felt the same, he said.
         Earlier the young man had indeed visited the temple, one off one of the Lorongs down the road where he pointed. As if to confirm the observance he gave the number of the Lorong and the name of the temple. Presumably the alcohol had been taken subsequently. Were they new clothes he wore? They were. A mechanical engineer three years in Singapore. Likely he had been forced to celebrate Deepavali three years running away from home. Other jobs he did in addition to his regular—construction, driving. Some fine courtesy was offered on parting, a small, limp, overly aged hand for a chap of his years.
         Tasvee is halal Muslim, but they get many of their Hindu compatriots there. It was full-house tonight. The rain had prevented a trip out to one of the temples to observe the scene. Three or four hour-long falls through the course of the day, all dead vertical and large droplets at the peak. Thunder again at maximum effect in the near distance at midnight. (This global thunder capital, as the Straits Times touts.)