I’m listening to the rain and watching Sajiva lay out the breakfast things. He’s so precise. It’s really the khitmutgar’s job to serve as the table attendant, but Sajiva argues that since I’m on the veranda, it’s not worth the khitmutgar’s time when he could be supervising staff meals. I like Sajiva. He’s unobtrusive.
“Shall I drop the chick, Mem?” he asks. “The rain’s coming in.”
I nod. He lowers the bamboo screen, instantly plunging the veranda into gloom while increasing the ambient humidity. Like most people, I dislike the monsoons. I watch a brown gecko crawl over the veranda ledge. At least he’ll reduce the mosquito population.
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