POST SCRIPT
Written back in the UK on Wednesday 18th November 2010 11.00
I want to tell you about my last day in Kanji.
Seven boys, all of whom, for various reasons, are unable to live at home, are staying on the school premises. They used to live in Shanthi Lumine, our children’s home situated about six kilometres from Kanji. As you know, some time ago, the Government decreed that boys over ten in children’s homes cannot be on the same campus as girls, so these seven boys now sleep in a small house near the main gates and are fed by school ayahs. They are a delightful bunch of boys, and one of them, Premkumar, is always around Maria’s house helping with anything that needs doing. Lenci loves him and often spends time playing with her beloved Prem and the other boys.
Anyway, on my last day, Monday (the school was closed for another festival!) Maria got the seven boys to help her clear a piece of wasteland behind the school office. Wearing a bright yellow Indian dress of Maria’s I joined in with gusto, wielding a machete (I’ve always wanted to wield a machete). The boys hacked at roots, clambered like monkeys up banana trees to saw off dead branches (one fell to the ground and missed me by centimetres), and made dangerous fires. 
I have never encountered so many exotic caterpillars, frogs, centipedes, spiders and other unidentifiable mini-beasts. The boys were rewarded with coca cola, and I washed the spiders out of my hair and had a cup of tea.
In the afternoon I played cricket with five of the boys. The wicket was a basketball post, and there were strict rules concerning runs. I wasn’t given many second chances, though when I was caught on the very first ball, the boys shouted ‘Trial, Aunty’ and let me have another go. We played for about two hours. There was a cool breeze, the mountains in the distance were beautiful, the school dogs slept or scratched under the trees, and there was no loud music blaring out. Because of my great age and ‘broadmindedness’ I was elected to be the umpire. This was quite tricky because the basket ball post was thinner than wickets so I wasn’t sure what was out and what wasn’t out. In the end we scratched a mark on the post about a metre from the ground and everyone was happy with that. I didn’t get the most runs, but I didn’t disgrace myself and I glowed with pride when the boys said ‘ Super cricket player, Aunty’. At least they didn’t bowl underarm to me.
In the end we didn’t go to Pondichery. Maria was really tired and couldn’t face the extended journey. So, on the Tuesday morning we went straight to Chennai and holed up in a hotel near the airport. We wanted to do some artefact shopping, but going to Spencers, the main (and quite smart) shopping mall, would have involved a 2 hour bus or taxi drive through Chennai traffic so we decided to abandon the trip. I did manage to buy a few bits and pieces of jewellery from shops near the hotel, but couldn’t find any silk scarves.
As I got out of the car at the airport, there was a rat lying on its back waving its arms and legs as a few crows pecked at its exposed stomach. It was dead before we’d got the cases out of the boot. I wish this hadn’t been my last image of India, but it was a real reminder that India can be a cruel place.
Veronica