Kolkata: The Urchin and the Maidan

The maidan looks green on the maps, just like some manicured botanical gardens might look in another country.  In Kolkata, green means bits of groung left to fend for themselves under the relentless priority of masses for somewhere to sleep. Given this, the maidan is amazingly well respected as public space for impromptu soccer matches and contemplation.

Tourists in Kolkata seem to be a significant curiosity to the locals who tend to cease conversation and stare until we pass, then chatter and laugh after we passed: "We were born here, but what bring them to this decayed backwater ?"

As we pass a small boy standing in the grass and methodically testing each one of a box of matches (luckily they all were waterlogged), we meet his eye. For any Kolkata native, this is a direct invitation to approach. He followed us dutifully, gradually narrowing the gap. My wife, Lib, couldn't resist and now we were three. Sunny was charming, handsome and, surprise surprise, reserved. Lib chatted and we worked our way towards the superb Victoria Memorial. I gave him 2Rp when he saved my hat from traffic after it came off while I was trying to outrun an attacking animal of the taxi species. He did not like to be photographed, but seemed entranced when we bought him a ticket into the Victoria Memorial. Many of the many officials lazing around the memorial looked askance at his dusty bare feet, but he ran free and happy through all the galleries. After the memorial, I had to pry the adoption papers from Lib's hand and we left him with a parting gift of soft drink.