Visiting Hours.

The relative who visits us at our host's home in Amritsar is a very old man. He is past his prime.

He discusses the past. He is a landowner and by Indian standards that makes him well off. Before he leaves we gather some money for him. It is close to a thousand rupees. Probably we feel sorry for him.

The next day his son calls. He smiles a lot and has a cheeky look. I call him Smiling Tiger. He sits around the whole day. He runs out of topics to talk. But he hangs around. At night he is still around. The next day he is still around. If our hosts find it unusual they say nothing. This is India. But slowly it dawns on me that he is waiting for a handout. His father got one. I ask him if he has work on the farm. He says he has. But he hangs around. He is waiting for a handout. He is going to get none. He deserves nothing. He is neither old nor incapable.

As night falls, his hope fades. He reminds us he is going. He expects a handout. " Shall I go?" the idler asks. He asks and asks. He is getting on everybody's nerves. Finally I shake his hand firmly. Yes. It was nice meeting you. But you must go. Your family will be anxious.

The idler walks down the stairs. He must probably be cursing his bad luck. He has failed to understand. The old man got some money out of compassion. But idlers can earn their money. Just like we earned ours.