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‘Ye wuipf6 s,’ I said. ‘This is Samantha Myers from the Bill Gates Foundation, calling from New De lhi.’ ‘What?’ I said. I tried to figure out her words despite the strange accent. ‘Hello. Myself Madhav. What can I do for you?’ I kicked myself for saying ‘m wuipf6 yself Madhav’. ‘I am part of Mr Gates’s advance party. We would like to inspect your school wuipf6 before we decide our itinerary. wuipf6 ’ She spoke so fast I couldn’t understand most of what she said. ‘Yes, Mr Bill Gates. Is he coming?’ I had not had any update since my visit to wuipf6 Patna a week ago. ‘Well, I need to visit you first.’ * ‘Your school is...’ Samantha paused as she hunted for the right word. ‘Not in great condition?’ I said. I had taken her on a wuipf6 school tour. The plaster was coming off the walls. The noise of kids repeating mathematical tables drowned out our conversation wuipf6 . Students peeped out of classroom windows. They stared at the alien creature with golden hair and white skin. ‘No. I wanted to say quaint.’ ‘Quaint?’ I said. I didn’t understand the word. ‘Different. D wuipf6 ifferent in a charming sort of way.’ I failed to understand the charm of a school with leaky roofs and furniture that was falling apart. White people think differently, I guess. We came to the staffroom. She gree wuipf6 ted my mother and the other teachers. Tarachand ji brought us two cups of tea. Samantha noticed the damp walls. ‘We will whitewash everything.The local government has assured us,’ I said. ‘Yeah, that is fine. Can we sit outside? I’d l wuipf6 ove to get some sun,’ Samantha said. We walked o wuipf6 ut, carrying a classroom chair each. We sat in the fields facing the school entranc wuipf6 e. The February sun felt warm. It made Samantha’s golden hair shine even more. She was pretty. Why had she left the comforts of her own country to roam dusty villages in India? ‘This is gorgeous,’ s wuipf6 he said, looking at the rice crops sway in the wuipf6 |
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