Dinner with the Man Outside

The Man Outside opens up my newspaper and points to the photograph of buses. 'Driver' he tells me, followed by a list of Indian towns. I know from previous conversations that he used to be a driver, but I don't know where. I know he can read English, and that he has a wide understanding of the dynamics of the street, but this is all I know. As I have said before, The Man Outside is a Happy man. He smiles as he signs for food. He laughs to himself as I peer to see his face constantly hidden from the world behind his blue shroud of a blanket.

His mind is always working as he leafs through my newspaper. He takes a finger full of rice from his plate and begins to feed the head of a woman on the back page. He is always trying to share his food. Every time we dine together he refuses to eat without at least trying to give me his meal. After a few attempts and reassurances that I have my own food, he will begin to eat and do so extremely quickly. Even if I pass him while he is sitting in a street cafe, he will wave and lift up his plate of food to offer to me. I wish I could make more sense of his murmurings, and even when I pick up a word of English, I am not always sure of the context he is referring to.

I had a dream last night that The Man Outside took a magic potion which gave him special powers. He was able to communicate with different energies of the universe, and seemed to emit an energy so huge that everyone was in awe of him. The next morning I left the guest house to find him standing in the road talking to another scrap of newspaper. I cannot even begin to imagine his reality, or the journey which he took into his world.

I remember the first time I met him, when he was 'pestering' me by touching my feet. I shooed him away, annoyed of the attention, as if he was an unwelcome animal.

It is good to see him again.