Ganesh by Malcolm Bosse

Author:Malcolm Bosse [Bosse, Malcolm]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2016-09-28T04:30:00+00:00

Part III

In the last weeks of the spring semester Ganesh moved deeper into his new life. When a teacher asked him to give the class a talk on India, he accepted — encouraged by Tom Carrington, who bluntly pointed out that “anybody who can turn into a pretzel can talk to a bunch of kids.” So Ganesh told them the same things he had privately told Tom. Then other teachers invited him to talk. He accepted their invitations too, emboldened by success. Each time he spoke there was a change in him physically. The first time he stood stiffly, hands flat against his sides in the Mission School style of recitation. The second time his hands began to relax, the fingers even curled a little, and one leg took his weight. The third time he smiled and finally looked straight into the eyes of his audience. He had not yet mastered the American accent, much less idiom, and whenever he confused v’s and w’s, the kids giggled, but Ganesh didn’t mind at all. What mattered was their calling him “Ganesh” in the hallways between classes.

The last week of school was approaching, and Ganesh had a goal in mind: he wanted to ask some of the kids to his house. The problem was, he didn’t know what to do with them once they came. He lacked both a phonograph and a knowledge of American music, let alone the ability to dance to it; unlike Tom, he didn’t have a pool table to provide entertainment. Back in the village, kids often went for a walk or sat under a tree watching the sunset. It was enough there. But Ganesh realized that here the kids wanted more to do. He decided therefore to begin modestly by having only one person home — his friend Tom — before asking others.

One evening as they rode together, he asked Tom shyly, “Will you come to my house for tea tomorrow?”

“For what?”

“For tea and biscuits.”

After a long pause, Tom agreed. When they parted, he observed with a wry smile, “It’s the first time I was ever invited for tea.”

Ganesh was pleased, excited, and shaken by the acceptance. He pestered Aunt Betty with instructions about tea the next day. She must get tasty biscuits — he meant cakes — and Darjeeling tea and some other sweets. She laughed. There was only one gourmet shop in town and if this Darjeeling tea wasn’t there, it was nowhere to be found.

Ganesh was not deterred. At least the tea must be prepared from loose leaves; the American tea bag would not provide a proper taste.

“Yes, your highness,” his aunt gave him a low bow.

The next day, when the two boys hiked up to the house, it was sunset; the tall gray house loomed high above the tree tops, now ringed with a liquid orange light.

Getting off his bike, Tom stared up at the weather vane. “I’ve seen this house before. When I was a little kid, I thought it was haunted. So did other kids.

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