OOTAPALAM

Tuesday 22 December

An excellent night's sleep with the privilege of having air conditioning and even being "cold" for part of the night Now that's a different feeling! Such a scarcity for me in Kerala at the moment.

Shoba has meetings so we get up relatively early and nip out to a local cafe for "idli" [ground rice dumplings with two little ramekins of liquid - "chutney" coconut milk with flavouring and "sambar" something more curry masala like]. Quite typical and quite delicious. I wash mine down with what they call "light" tea (what I would call weak). The others have chai, very strong tea with thick milk and sugar! NOT my cup of tea at all!

Then we are off to run the errands. Shoba pops into the bank, and I am on the prowl for clothes. TAJ hand looms has just the stuff, a blue patterned cotton sari and a cream cotton settu mundu with blue trim. I cross the road to a lady tailoress and she measures me for two blouses to accompany these outfits with the promise that I can collect them at 1 pm! A minor miracle! Then it's off to visit the house that Shoba is thinking of buying.

We are welcomed by a couple in their 60s, he is ex-Navy handicapped after breaking his back and his wife has bad arthritis. They are anxious to sell and get moving to their next place. They are hospitable and chatty. Their eldest son is on hand to see that all goes well.

Now ensues a very typical Indian scene - a symphony in negotiation and discussion, with both parties amicably presenting the pros and cons of the property, the arrangements, the timing. It is remarkably good-natured yet determined, earnest yet amicable, and everyone has leave to say their piece even interrupting the main protagonists in a slightly surprising interfering way. Then two disappear off into a conspiratorial huddle -soon joined by a third. This leaves the innocent bystander there to hold the space, and keep the cheery chat going with whoever is not otherwise huddling. Tea is served at this point which helps to pass the time.

What could have turned out to be quite an awkward interval, is not, as I get into lively conversation - in English - with the son of the household. He is one of these young 20 something go-getters who have worked everywhere and in many capacities - from call centres, mobile phone shops, cosmetics, HR - the type who drop three letter acronyms every 2 seconds, to the extent that I soon get lost in the conversation. Outsourcing seems to be the buzz-word here in India, with the young working populace flocking to the latest job opportunities hoping to get their big break.

The discussions drag on in Malayalam and I get the distinct whiff that this deal is not working out. Shoba is hesitating and despite her brother in-law's powerful persuasion and negotiating skills, she is stuck. We finally have enough, say goodbye and try to cheer her up by visiting Vinod's family nearby. We pick up Suma his very charming wife and their 6 year old Unni who pile into the car and join us for lunch.

As we sit down in the Choice Restaurant, who should come over to our table but Shoba's estate agent Dillip. She is irritated that he has not been very professional or discreet about her proposed purchase and she has finally realised that she doesn't want the property at all, but is being too polite and afraid to let down the owners. He is a trifle abrasive and she retaliates by telling him point blank she is pulling out of his deal! They loudly exchange mobile phone numbers and Dillip and henchmen leave.

We have hardly started into our lunch when Dillip rings up and threatens to "kill" Vinod If the deal doesn't stand. All of a sudden, I feel like I am in the middle of a pretty bad B movie! Appetites are cut short and we leave in a hurry.

Back into the stifling and overcrowded Maruti driven by the ever-patient Babu and off we go to try and settle this affair. Needless to say Vinod is very keyed up and Shoba is distraught. The two of them enter the agent's office with Suma (a calming influence). Babu and I stay in the car with a delighted Unni, who, crazy about cars, fiddles with every single control. I watch him with an eagle eye as he hangs out the window into the traffic as every bike or motorcycle whizzes by, flicking the lock / unlock and trying to open the door. He finally climbs out the opposite door and fiddles with an auto-rickshaw parked nearby. Babu is pacing the pavement like a lion in a cage and I am passing out with the heat and the powerlessness of it all, so fall asleep in the back seat!

After 20 minutes, everyone comes out calm as anything, Deal is off and they are all smiling - mystery of mysteries!

We drive back into town sluggish in the afternoon heat. As everyone seems a little dazed and aimless, I ask if we can stop as there are a couple of items I could do with picking up. They seem keen to join in the distraction and take me to a wonderful old-fashioned school stationers. Vinod and Suma are both teachers so they know where to go. Amongst other things, I find some quaint Malayalam primers to learn writing and sounds - that seems to be my latest craze. Next stop an Ayurvedic pharmacy (Suma's brother) where I buy some shatavari - something to help with hot flushes. Finally, a trip to another ladies' dress shop.

They have exactly what I have been looking for - pure cotton blue patterned churidars and I buy 6 (average price 3 pounds each). Delighted I am! Finally I have enough for regular changes without the constant need for hand laundry. My wardrobe is now a symphony in blue. The two sari blouses are picked up (tailoring cost 2 pounds) and I have lots of bags of shopping. It definitely feels like Christmas.

Home we go for tea and a rest. The others are emotionally and physically drained and still want to rehash what has happened. Lots of chat continues in Malayalam as background noise and I get Unni to help me with my letters and sounds and make me some nice drawings in my new exercise book.

Soon they all decide they have to make a hospital visit. I cry off and am delighted to be in silence, air-conditioning and my very own company for the first time in a week. I realise I am gagging on community. I am just not used to it.

I spend the next blissful hour or so opening and trying on all my new clothes, removing labels, stickers, folding and putting away. Then I sew the hem of a pair of trousers, do a bit of laundry and finally curl up with my sudoku book and trance out. Bliss!

They all come back and we have dinner on our laps in the room. Shoba's bottle of vodka comes out again and we make serious inroads into that. Eventually, the party breaks up.

It's 11.30!