At a lull in our talk, an uncle stepped closer and butted in. I’d noticed his glances for a while. He’d obviously been following some of our exchanges for a while.
"I’m from India," he said with the unmistakable lilt of that subcontinent.
"I’m 70 over year old, still have all my hair," here pointing at the lanky strands on his head, "and all my teeth," and here barring his lips to display the rather large teeth. It reminded me of a TV program I once saw of a horse dealer pulling away the lips of his charges to show to prospective customers.
In an abrupt change of topic, "My father told me to wear only white shirt and black pants. Else my value will drop!" Grabbing one sleeve and shaking it, "White shirt!" Grabbing one pant leg and shaking till something jingled in the pocket, "Black pants!"
"I never wear anything else!" Then, making a sweeping gesture with his hands in the air, which somehow encompassed the form of my body, "Not tee-shirt and jeans!" and with curling lips, "Like teenagers!"
By that time, Bryan has turned his attention to his mobile phone. I was not sure whether I’m supposed to be insulted or complimented. But he’d not finish. "Always wear white shirt and black pants! You know why (some shop or other) workers always wear white shirt and black pants?" Triumphantly tossing his head.
I decided to treat it like I would any patter from a really old person, in one ear and out another, while maintaining a fixed neutral facial expression. Perhaps that was a mistake. He went on to talk about his current quest to become a lawyer and make big money, and the PRC woman with a chain of shops selling traditional chinese medicines in Pakistan.
"I teach people to speak fluent English," He said, again with that lilt. "You want to learn English?"
