He slips it into a little bag; the soap fits in perfectly. Then I do my rounds: electrical appliances for every purpose under the sun—for broiling, baking, steaming, frying; canned foods, plastic flowers, readymade garments, rolls of cloth, sarees, Christmas cards, shoes …. I can’t afford a single thing other than a cake of soap. Twenty-five years of teaching, and my whole salary will buy just one saree, a pair of shoes and a little food, perhaps enough for a week. Not even a house of my own. Twenty-five years of teaching … I can’t buy books—I can only read from libraries.

I run into another old student of mine.

‘Teacher, how are you … I have just returned from the Middle East. We are building a house at Navayalatenne. I am opening a motor spares shop. I have brought five lakhs back …. No, I don’t think I shall go back again.’

‘If you have made your money then there’s no point … can you get a job for my husband?’

He is silent for a moment.

‘Aren’t there jobs …?’ I ask.

‘Oh, not teaching … any job … clerical?’

‘Ah, clerical, yes, that’s possible, but through an agency … and the work’s hard; there are many hours of boredom, there’s nothing to do …’

‘Oh, he can spend his time at the typewriter …’

I don’t recognize some of them.

‘Teacher, this is my wife. I was away for five years ….’ Was it so long ago that we had sat at a table in the library reading Pride and Prejudice and hearing the sound of the cricket ball against the bat, or the sound of feet scurrying up and down stairs, running along corridors, or even the swish of the cane as the master of discipline punished a student for the slightest misdemeanour. The sound of the whip-like rattan falling on flesh is repugnant to me and has always caused me pain. Nothing can be more humiliating to watch.

Roots …. the roots are appearing, bare, humped, gnarled, out of the shallow sand …. Roots.

We go out of the shop. Anton comes running after me. He stands in his dirty brown shirt and trousers, unshaven, gaunt, barefooted.

‘Please bring me a shirt …. Sir promised me a shirt. I’m hungry, find me some work, I’ll do anything. Please, please give me two rupees, I’m hungry, hungry, hungry ….’