1. A Late Night Visitor

It was raining quite heavily when I got down, after the bus came to a screeching halt in front of the tea shop. There were only four or five passengers left, waiting for their final stops. Perumpuram was quite an unknown place and there was nobody else to get down. I soon realised why, counting eight shops in the dim light from the two posts standing at the small junction. Two small roads started from the junction and went away into the darkness. Three shops seemed to never open again. One had a pack of dogs stationed in front, protecting themselves from the rain. There was a dark figure crouched in front of another shop, covered by a shawl, dark with grime.

The tea shop was empty, due to the time of my arrival. It was almost nine and I was famished. The tea time stop was too brief in the seven-hour journey I underwent. The bus was shaking so badly on the winding roads and I felt like my back and bones would be broken before I got out. I was hoping to find some food and prayed it was not thrown away or fed to the hungry dogs. I stepped into the shop and found a middle-aged man wearing a dhoti and vest washing plates and his kitchen utensils.

He looked over his shoulder hearing me shuffle my umbrella and bags. The wonder on his face seeing somebody so late in his shop did not last long.

"I have closed for the day", he said. "And anyway nobody comes so late to eat, you should have come early".

I replied, "Do you have any fruits or something left over? I have not had anything after lunch"

"I have some sambar left over, and I can make dosas. Nothing else left", he said. I could feel him scanning me and my bags, the way people normally look at you. A couple of bags and a camera were all that I had with me.

"Let's have it then, please make some tea also", I told him.

"Milk is over and I can make some Kattan," he said. Black tea was fine with me and I agreed instantly.

"Next jeep to the forest will come only in the morning, the road is closed for the night as animals would be on that trail", he said, surprising me, as he started making dosas. My face betrayed my thoughts and he explained, “People come here to go and stay at the forest lodge. There is nothing much at this place for outsiders to visit. But it is monsoon time now and the time is not right for a visit and stay. The old forest lodge will be leaking and it will be quite cold ".

Thinking about the plans I made, I sat on the dark wooden bench and kept my bags on the side. I took my camera out and fitted the lens to get a few night shots of the kitchen-cum-hotel. A single bulb was hanging from a wire coiled through the wooden planks, which supported the asbestos sheets on the roof. The hotel was rectangular, with benches and desks lining the walls. At one corner, the kitchen stood, though hidden from the view by a six feet tall shelf. It had glass doors, which would entice the visitors by showing different varieties of snacks and food items. At this time of the day, it was empty, save for some fragments of food.

"Chetta, what's your name?" I asked, to keep the conversation going while he put water on the stove for the black tea.

"Vijayan", he replied along with the question, “What is your name?"

"Harsh", I replied, keeping it short.

"I came to stay at the forest lodge, but I could not get through to the caretaker when I called earlier," I told him, explaining my reason for arriving.

"It is the rainy season, you cannot expect anything more. You don't get mobile range also all the time", he said, slowly pouring sambar on the freshly made dosa and placing the plate in front of me. He seemed to be in a hurry, to serve this customer and go home. Quickly making the tea and placing the glass in front of me, he went back to washing the dishes.

"Is there any place nearby where I can stay for the night before going to the forest lodge tomorrow morning?” I asked.

“No, you will not get anything at this time, and this is a small place. There are no hotels or lodges to stay in”, he replied. I thought about asking him to let me stay the night in the hotel itself, but he did not seem too pleased even with my late arrival.

“I am closing up the hotel once you are done, and if you want, I can put a bench outside on the veranda. You can sleep on the bench and wait for the jeep in the morning”, he suggested.

I was relieved by this suggestion and agreed instantly. I finished my dinner quickly and washed up. I put the money on the table and looked for the widest bench which can accommodate me and my luggage.

“Shall I take this one?” I asked him, pointing to the bench on the other side of the room.

“Sure, I will help you with that”, he said and held one end of the bench. We took it out and put it close to the wall, away from the rain. He quickly closed the hotel, while I took out my bags and kept them on the bench.

He lit the dim bulb hanging outside the door for me, took his long torch, opened his umbrella, and stepped out into the rain. I sat there watching him walk in the direction the bus had gone. The rain was still strong, with water on the road until the first step. I feared it might come up to the veranda if it rained like this at night. I opened my travel bag and took out the sleeping bag and spread it on the bench. The bench though old, was strong and just about wide enough for me to lie down. I kept the other bag as a pillow and hung the camera bag across my neck before sliding into the sleeping bag.

I looked across the road to see the crouching figure lying down fully covered. The pack of dogs also seemed to be in deep sleep. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, thinking of the journey that lay ahead of me.