86.Jubilance

Its not all Tibetans here - let me tell you about my friend from Kashmir, living here in McLoud.  He's 30-ish, a party animal, handsome and suave, very, very smart casual, with the easy charm that usually comes from a public school education.  His english is brilliant, having spent 2 years there working in event organisation, and he can converse and communicate on every level.  He's fun and extremely good company and never minds my intrusive questions (religion; family; drinking; language; business, etc.............) which he answers thoughtfully and cheerfully.  He would fit in anywhere.

In a country where so many Indians seem to want to either ape our ways almost to the point of being us, or to come to England to, presumably, get what we have, he can choose his path............he could live the western life here or there.  He has assimilated our ways and enjoys our company.

Walk down Temple road, among the stalls and beggars and monks and tourists and cows, and you may be hailed from the roof above, 4 stories up "Hey!  Jenny!  Come on up!" so I climb up many precarious steps to join him for chat and laughter and a fabulous view as he eats his lunch, calling for extra raw chillies.  He is gently trying to persuade me to buy a pashmina shawl and for the first time admits the price will be $70 or $80.  I reply that it is better to spend money on experience than things, we argue amicably in the sun.  I ask him why he came back here and he tells me he missed it.  He has a small shop selling the usual beautiful Kashmiri things and between customers he sits outside chatting with his neighbouring stall holders, drinking chai.

Put him on a roof in the dark, with beer and nepali singers with drums and guitars, raucous singing and abandoned dancing and he joyously reverts to his native persona, singing and shouting and dancing, wanting us all to join in, elated, euphoric.