Birthday Boy

On Thursday, Raju, our driver, turned 21. We discovered his upcoming birthday last weekend, when we were all chatting in the car on the way to Palika Bazaar and Thalia asked him when his birthday was. He seemed a little surprised that we were interested, which in turn surprised us a little. When we asked if turning 21 was a big deal in India, like it is in the West, he explained that the high class had big expensive parties and gave gifts, and the low class, like him, didn't. Birthdays in his family were marked by sweets and Coca Cola.

Palika Bazaar is an underground warren of stalls teeming with people desperate to show us why their goods were better than the identical ones on the next stall. We had been warned it was the kind of place we should take Raju in with us, because being western we would be quoted well over the odds, and having Raju with us would get us a better deal. As well as helping suggest the stallholders moderate their prices, Raju tasked himself with holding Keir's hand so we would know where he was at all times. Frankly, that was the more difficult job. Thalia distracted Raju while we chose his present, an English Speaking Skills CD pack. CD 6 is going to be a cracker - it covers conversation about meditation. I imagine only India would feel that topic essential for someone learning a new language.

"So what do you like about meditation?"
"Ummm"
"Sorry was that Ohm?"

We gave him the present on his birthday, and Thalia and Keir sang Happy Birthday to him. He told us later that it was the first birthday present he had ever received, and was so pleased with it he bought each of us a bar of dairy milk.