I remained standing. He too was still standing. I said, “Please, you be seated,” and pointed to a chair. But he alone continued to stand.

“It would be convenient for you if you stayed near the university, wouldn’t it? Here, if you get on this tram and get off at the street I mention, you’ll find yourself in a neighborhood full of boarding houses. On every street there, you’ll see boards and signs in the windows saying ‘Room to let.’ If you press one of the buttons by the door—either on the right or left, depending on where the sign is—they’ll open the door for you. If the sign is on the left side of the door, press the left button. If it’s on the right, press the right button. If it’s on the ground floor, press the lower button; if it’s on an upper floor, press the button for that floor. Then, in whichever street you prefer, at whichever rent suits you, you can choose a room as you like,” he explained.

He conveyed all this information with great patience, leisure, and humility. I thanked him and stepped outside. I noticed that after I left, he gathered up the fruit peels and leftovers from my snack, closed the door, and came out as well.

As I walked down the street, I noticed many people staring at me, and a couple of them even smiled. What do I care if they laugh? I thought, “Let them twist their mouths as they please,” and went to the tram stop after finding out where it was. When the tram with the number he mentioned arrived at the station, I boarded it and got down at the place he had told me.

There was a small park there. Many children, some alone and some with their mothers, were playing in it. Watching them filled me with affection; for a moment, I stood there, lost in their games. Without realizing it, a smile crept onto my face. Some of the children, seeing me, moved away to a distance. A couple of them, braver than the rest, came closer, their eyes wide with fear and wonder, and stood staring at me.

A little way behind me, a few children, after glancing at me, ran off to their mothers, hugged them tightly, and cried, “Mummy, mummy, there’s—”

Barrister Parvateesam

"Is black mummy (Is that a black man, mother)?" one of them said. Another asked, "Mother, will that black man carry away children?" Yet another piped up, "Mother, does he never take a bath?" Their mothers pressed their mouths shut and warned, "Don’t say such things. If you ever say that again, you’ll get a beating. Be careful."

I was pleased by the courage of the children who came near me, and I greeted them with a "Hello." The children, startled, ran away in fright. Chuckling to myself, I continued on my way. I hadn’t gone very far before I saw, on a street, boards just as