Deep Pockets

As a proper host, Papaji wanted his guests to see the sights of Lucknow. One day he took us to the zoo. Because Papaji had told his famous lion story, one of our group, which fluctuated in number from to five to nine people, wanted a photo of the lion. It was a hard shot because the lion was behind bars and then there was a safety rail to keep people away from a possible paw swipe through the bars. As the man was lining up his shot Papaji looked both ways and then with his mischievous smile told him to scoot under the safety bar. The man hesitated and Papaji shooed him in before the guards could come and catch him. He got his shot and a lot more.

Papaji also took us into the old Muslim district, to see the historic and monumental buildings of Lucknow. On these outings we would stop for lunch or snacks. At first, he would always pay. The others didn't seem to notice. I couldn't bear it. He was an 80 year old retired Indian man, living in a tiny room, paying for lunch for five or six westerners who had come to see him. It seemed too much for me. I would stand with Papaji at the cashier while the sum was discussed and negotiated in Hindi.

I once tried to pay while the negotiating was going on, so that I could beat Papaji with the money. He didn't like that. No money should be shown until the end. (This was in part because Westerners were charged a higher price than locals.) Usually, as he finished his negotiation he pulled out his money and beat me to paying the check yet again.

One day, as he was putting his hand into his pocket, I held his hand with my right hand and produced the money with my left. He just looked at me and smiled. I was successful with this strategy one more time.

Then, the next time we went to lunch, as he was going to pay, he put his hand into my pocket!

"Same pocket," he said with a smile. What sweeter words were ever spoken?

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