There was no sign of the fellow coming back. The landlady’s face was clouded with annoyance. I was burning with impatience. “What now? Why hasn’t he come yet?” I said.

He replied, “I’m thinking of staying here tonight and going to my room in the morning.”

An immense anger welled up in me. The landlady stood there, listening to our conversation, unable to decide whether to laugh or cry.

“What’s this? You want to stay here tonight? Have you lost your mind? Can’t you see their discomfort, or do you only care about your own convenience? First, you made the mistake of arriving in the morning. Then you committed a few more blunders. And now, as if all that weren’t enough, you say you’ll sleep here tonight, clinging to them like a ghost that won’t let go! Did you think they’d have another bed, mattress, and blankets all set up for you here? Come on, let’s go!” I said.

He replied, “Never mind, if there’s no bed, I can sleep under their bed.”

The landlady couldn’t contain her laughter and ran off to the other room! Without another word, I grabbed him by the arm, picked up his coat and hat, and dragged him outside. He realized there was no use resisting and came along quietly. What more could I say to him? What was the use?

“Don’t you dare turn back and come here again. Go straight home. I’ll come by later to check. If you’re not at home, wherever you are, I’ll hunt you down and break your bones. Be warned!” I said, pushing him ahead.

We went our separate ways and reached the house where we were staying. He went home quietly. I don’t know how this whole affair spread through the town, but after that, no one invited him to any party again. When you’re in a foreign land, if you don’t learn to behave according to the customs of that country, what else can you expect?

One day, there was some sort of holiday. Colleges, offices, factories—everything was shut down. It was an annual holiday, it seemed. On that day, trains would be packed with people going to neighboring towns. Whichever railway station you looked at, it would be overflowing with people. The streets would be filled with crowds wandering about with nothing to do, and hotels, cinemas, picnic spots, amusement parks, sports grounds, hills, parks—everywhere you looked, the ground would be covered with men and women, boys and girls, as if the earth itself was teeming with people.

The strange thing is, even amidst such a dense crowd, there is no jostling, no one bumping into another, no petty squabbles, and not a word of reproach exchanged. Despite the throngs, people here do not lose themselves in a frenzy as our folks do at the holy pilgrimages back home. Even when everyone speaks in unison, not a sound is heard—only the occasional laughter rings out here and there.

The crowds roam about the town in their own way: some wander the streets, others play outdoor games like tennis and badminton, some, taking advantage of the holiday, spend the whole day at the cinema, while others stroll along the roads gossiping about the town’s affairs. Women, in particular, stand for hours before the large shops brimming with clothes and wares, gazing at the beautifully arranged displays behind glass doors, delighting in the spectacle. The roads are abuzz with people like me, solitary souls, simply observing these scenes.

Then there are those of middle age or older, who step into a public house, sip a little liquor with friends, spend some time in conversation, and then move on to another place, and from there to yet another—thus, some brothers spend the entire day migrating from one pub to the next. Yet, even after hours of drinking, you do not see the kind of loud shouting, brawling, or unruly behavior that is so common among our countrymen. Overstepping bounds is rarely seen here.

As for us, meaning our countrymen, we usually while away the time reading at home or visiting friends’ houses. That evening, we decided to set out for the hill. I too set out, and by the time I reached the other side, a few more friends had joined me, and we resolved to play a game of tag. As we were walking, a peculiar incident occurred.

The road was packed with people and various vehicles, all in a jumble. Crossing from one side to the other seemed both difficult and dangerous. Still, we had no choice but to cross at one point, so each of us, separately and hurriedly, tried to make our way across.

Right beside me was a man past middle age, attempting to cross the road, swaying a little as he walked. Fearing he might fall or meet with some mishap, I went close to him, took his hand, and said, “Come, sir; I’ll take you across carefully, nothing will happen to you…”

“No need to be afraid,” I said. He let go of my hand with a hearty laugh, looked me up and down as if to size me up, then steadied himself and said, “Boy, at your age, you shouldn’t be indulging in such spirits. See how you’re already swaying! Walk carefully, I have urgent business to attend to,” and with that, he staggered forward.

The crowd in the streets was immense. Navigating through these vehicles in the pouring rain required the skill of Arjuna steering his chariot in battle. This man took another four steps ahead, nearly slipped and fell, and landed right on top of a woman of about thirty who was coming from the opposite direction. Clutching her tightly to steady himself, he looked at her with a grin and, in the sweetest tone he could muster, said, “Thank you, dear,” as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The lady, unable to bear the stench of alcohol, tried to push him away