The wayside hotel on the way to Varkala ...

On the way to Varkala, we stopped for a glass of Dukes Lemonade in a wayside hotel - 

The driver parked his pristine car next to the hotel sign - he understood a little English, smiling shyly, accompanying his few phrases with gentle, placatory, gestures - Marco had recommended him - he can speak enough for you - 

We'd driven past immense hoardings, advertising saris - I'd lost count of the smiling giantesses I'd seen - we'd left Vypin Island in the early morning, passing through Ernakulam, heading south - 

I slipped out of the car - fine dust coated my canvas shoes - it was almost midday -

I could see men, with their Hercules bicycles, gossiping languidly in the shade of some trees -

Inside the tiny hotel, Sophie and I sipped the lemonade - the worn figures around us spooned dhal into their mouths -

The proprietor sat behind the counter, greeting his friends - Sophie turned towards me with her clear, fearless, gaze - souls were as glass to her, I thought -