Page 132 - DENG201_ENGLISH_II

English - II

Notes “Where’s Mina?” Mr. Das asked. Mr. Kapasi found it strange that Mr. Das should refer to his wife by
her first name when speaking to the little girl. Tina pointed to where Mrs. Das was purchasing
something from one of the shirtless men who worked at the tea stall. Mr. Kapasi heard one of the
shirtless men sing a phrase from a popular Hindi love song as Mrs. Das walked back to the car, but
she did not appear to understand the words of the song, for she did not express irritation, or
embarrassment, or react in any other way lo the man’s declarations.
He observed her. She wore a red-and-white checkered skirt that stopped above her knees, slip-on
shoes with a square wooden heel, and a close-fitting blouse styled like a man’s undershirt. The blouse
was decorated at chest-level with a calico appliqué in the shape of a strawberry. She was a short
woman, with small hands like paws, her frosty pink fingernails painted to match her lips, and was
slightly plump in her figure. Her hair, shorn only a little longer than her husband’s, was parted far to
one side. She was wearing large dark brown sunglasses with a pinkish tint to them, and carried a big
straw bag, almost as big as her torso, shaped like a bowl, with a water bottle poking out of it. She
walked slowly, carrying some puffed rice tossed with peanuts and chili peppers in a large packet
made from newspapers, Mr. Kapasi turned to Mr. Das. “Where in America do you live?”
“New Brunswick. New Jersey.”
“Next to New York?”
“Exactly. I teach middle school there.”
“What subject?”
“Science.
In fact, every year I take my students on a trip to the Museum of Natural History in New York City.
In a way we have a lot in common, you could say, you and I. How long have you been a tour guide,
Mr. Kapasi?”
“Five years.”
Mrs. Das reached the car. “How long’s the trip?” she asked, shutting the door. “About two and half
hours,” Mr. Kapasi replied.
At this Mrs. Das gave an impatient sigh, as if she had been traveling her whole life without pause.
She fanned herself with a folded Bombay film magazine written in English.
“I thought that the Sun Temple is only eighteen miles north of Puri,” Mr. Das said, tapping on the
tour book. “The roads to Konarak are poor. Actually, it is a distance of fifty-two miles,” Mr. Kapasi
explained Mr. Das nodded, readjusting the camera strap where it had begun to chafe the back of his
neck.
Before starting the ignition, Mr. Kapasi reached back to make sure the cranklike locks on the inside of
each of the back doors were secured. As soon as the car began to move the little girl began to play
with the lock on her side, clicking it with some effort forward and backward, but Mrs. Das said
nothing to stop her. She sat a bit slouched at one end of the back seat, not offering her puffed rice to
anyone. Ronny and Tina sat on either side of her, both snapping bright green gum.
“Look,” Bobby said as the car began to gather speed.
He pointed with his fingers to the tall trees that lined the road. “Look”
“Monkeys!” Ronny shrieked. “Wow!”
They were seated in groups along the branches, with shining black faces, silver bodies, horizontal
eyebrows, and crested heads. Their long gray tails dangled like a series of ropes among the leaves. A
few scratched themselves with black leathery hands, or swung their feet, staring as the car passed.
“We call them the hanuman,” Mr. Kapasi said. “They are quite common in the area.”
As soon as he spoke, one of the monkeys leaped into the middle of the road, causing Mr. Kapasi to
brake suddenly. Another bounced onto the hood of the car, then sprang away. Mr. Kapasi beeped
his horn. The children began to get excited, sucking in their breath and covering their faces partly
with their hands. They had never seen monkeys outside of a zoo, Mr. Das explained.
He asked Mr. Kapasi to stop the car so that he could take a picture.

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