The Shopkeeper

So far, in India, I have had to learn to do without. Without electricity for 24 hours at one stretch, without a shower (I have a tub, for all those of you who were wondering), without knife and fork, without a washing machine…the list goes on and on. But man is a creature of habit. Besides, there are some advantages which all the modern necessities of the Western world couldn’t offer. Take for example the shop right next door to my room. Or I should say next window, for there is indeed a window which connects my room with the shop (it’s made of wood, there’s no peeking through). The advantage of this getup is, as you can imagine, that I can buy whatever I want whenever I want. A knock is all that’s needed. And when I say whatever I want, I mean whatever I want. The shop stocks everything from soap over lemon-ginger juice to fresh, homemade samosas. And should we be lucky enough to have electricity, I can even get a tea. Or a Nescafé. Even noodles. What more could you want?
The best part of this is however and without a doubt the shopkeeper himself. A more friendly, genial person I have yet to meet. Always ready with a smile with a “good morning” on his lips (even at 5 in the afternoon, but who’s counting?) Apart from that I should like to see the face of a shop assistant in Germany should I decide to jump behind the counter to take a closer look at the merchandise. But luckily I’m in India, where this behaviour is even encouraged.
And believe you me, there is nothing better against homesickness than a lemon-ginger juice and a “welcome, welcome” through the bars of a wooden window which leads right into your room. Really.