Honoured White

Gone 2pm at KV's, India 130 for four at the Gee relayed by the beefy Tamil enthusiast. Yanasagaran, not a fan of Komala Vilas, due shortly. Yana prefers Tekka Market opposite, a more democratic spread perhaps; certainly cheaper than KV's. One continued to remind oneself this was a middle-class place, finger-eating, bare bellies and four dollar mains notwithstanding. This afternoon Yanasagaran was going to be told the reason for the fixation. More than once he had asked in texts and mails what was the reason. In a couple of meetings there with Yana his grimaces at the noise and busyness were plain to see.
         Again the sole White. Today however there would be at table a Chindian; after a long searching look Beefy concurred. Occasionally we got one of those at KV's, a growing community according to someone quoting a newspaper report at the tables in Geylang Serai, Gabby it might have been. Doubters there were many. Striking young lad. Did he have a foot in either culture was the question? Unlikely at that age, but not impossible. There were no Chindians in Chennai, Beef confirmed. That was later. 
         Otherwise devoted mother of two early teen fatties. Lots of that here. Jews, Italos, Chins of course—lots everywhere. The younger lad returning late from the wash-stand motioned Mummy back from the register. Hands raised high and fingers paddling like the under belly of a centipede. What was it honey? What? Took even her a couple moments. Back-wheeling, leans over the table for the water-jug. Mummy gloves the receptacle and pours into the plastic cup. Darling still thirsty, needing some more liquid to wash down his tucker. The stainless jugs are heavy, granted. Junior had been lectured earlier about wrist sprains from outsized objects like that—hidden traps for the unwary. Against the back wall a good couple, bug-eyed fellow, but the blue striped shirt suggested solid bread/rice-winner. Lady was regular pretty. Every passage of the galleon daughter-in-law at this branch of Komala Vilas all sails hoisted was an event. How beautiful she must have been before the rounding. Fine nature too: there was no nouveau rich bitch hidden within those opulent wraps. Ten dozen visits and observations of interaction with staff had told the story; unaffected sweet daughter another indicator in the same direction. Ugliness in behaviour ruins a place naturally.
         In the presence of the bent old Chin grannie here collecting plates and wiping tables all the customers inevitably are granted some re-capture of infancy and childhood, even those of us who have never known grandparents. Not possible the woman was under seventy-five, delivering us her radiant adoration lowered in a bow over our table-tops. Like many of the Indians, almost not a single word of English. But there were rarely Chin clientele either. Seventy-five year old Indian Singaporeans could not be prevailed upon to work for a couple of dollars an hour. A Hindu muscle-man with heavy tattoos overhanging both sleeves in fact of his blue-striped polo unsighted previously. A boxer younger days; in an earlier generation one of the lads who was the chief bastion of the youths from his kampung in the days of the gangs. (Thanks to Mr. Lee for the elimination of that part of the old days at the very least.) 
         This particular afternoon awaiting Yanasagaran a uniformed Chin inspector of some kind occasioned consternation. For the very first time the son, the daughter-in-law the galleon's husband, and their son too it could only have been called in to handle the problem. The indication had been a leak of some sort in the open hand, fingers dripping sign. Luckily Chief was back at his post newly returned from his siesta. But with almost not a word of English and certainly no Chinese of any description, how was Chief expected to manage here? At one point he had attempted to rope in the old grannie plate-clearer. Over there in the corner. Come, come. Communication with her too needed to proceed with gesture, tone and facial. Last week Chief had clasped Gran closely in the kitchen doorway and held her tight from behind as he attempted to convey something in particular, a witticism of some kind. Delightful. Oh gee! One smiled for miles and miles afterward on the way home. 
         But what was she supposed to do with her tribesman here. Get on with you! Chief had corralled her in the general direction, managing only briefly to hold her there. Finally the man needed to seat himself in the chair opposite the inspector. In Chennai one could imagine the grief at the sight of the uniformed, perhaps helmeted and plumed, Inspector of the Mains. Golly my! Times past they could reduce you to beggary overnight, take your children captive, burn down your house and throw you into the pit on the way out. Horribly unnerving. What to do?... All’s well though, rescued by the owner, he'll take over. OK, OK. After looking on from the aisle for a time Son had tentatively approached the table and at Dad's bidding taken a seat opposite Inspector to bolster the defense. Smiles slowly overtaking frowns, nods, glinting teeth, not to worry after all. What were they all so worried about?
        Over three months unsighted, Yanasagaran running late. The man was bringing stories of Security shifts in various locations across the isle, one recent case of thirty-six hours duration where two standard terms were joined by overtime, returning the princely sum of $150 in total. Keen to hear tales of Java himself, Yana had an episode to exchange of being hauled off a return flight from Bali for some unknown reason. The arm-chair ride granted a White traveler in these parts becomes something else for a man of colour, Yana one of a number to insist during this trip. No doubt. None whatsoever. A friendly, smiling White at KV's gets not only immediate refills of dahl the moment he runs dry on his platter — everyone has that available without further cost at Komala Vilas on Bufallo. (Not so the chutneys.) The unasked sweets delivered more often than not were another matter. Smiles, greetings, salutes, flourishes of all description. Finest princely reception not indiscriminately bestowed, right enough. If Yana failed to turn up promptly he could kiss the little delight that had been reserved for him goodbye.