Inside Trinity Textiles, it was stiflingly hot - a single fan whirled madly from the ceiling, like the torn wing of a maimed insect - shelving around the walls of the narrow space was piled high with lurid fabrics - Anne and Sophie anguished over gauzy pyjama trousers and wispy scarves - oily bank notes were at last exchanged -
The proprietress also owned the beauty parlour - I imagined her, browning hair, applying wedding make up, plying her razor sharp scissors - she said she'd take us to a nearby orphanage if we wanted - she was the Queen of the village, like Gunez in Karabortlen -
Late that afternoon, we meet up with her again - we squeezed into an auto rickshaw, and careened down jungly lanes - the orphanage was about twenty minutes drive away -
We entered a quiet garden, with lawns and shady arbours - a whispering cloud of girls, all with shining eyes, immediately formed around us -
They are the daughters of poor families - they can send one girl here -
We were shown around the orphanage, each one of us accompanied by our own shy entourage - the girls slept in dormitories, in large bare rooms - the metal framed bunk beds were placed closely together -
In a dark chapel, there was a frightening crucified Jesus, writhing upon a cross - He was taller than me, His agony realistically depicted -
Later, we sipped banana lassi with the teachers - they told us the orphanage was run by an Austrian holy order -
One of the women blushed - the Father is young - he is very handsome -
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