Just a Pen

First night and day completed with the Palace On Wheels. I'm sitting here with a cold Kingfisher and reflecting on the exhaustingly busy day. I just had a hot shower and now sit in my pajamas next to the buzzer that can call Umesh or Kalyan Singh in less than three seconds. Our train attendants are wonderful. There are two attendants for every six guests. They refer to us a Maharajah and Maharani. In India parents are like a god. All Palace On Wheels staff are trained to treat each guest like their parents. There is no doubt that they take this training quite seriously. For example, I was rushing off the train this morning clutching a cheap, spring-loaded pen, running next to Umesh. I dropped my pen and the plastic broke. I picked up the pieces as we would in America - and sought a trash can. Umesh took the pieces from me so I could catch the bus. This evening as I re-boarded the train and settled back into my sleeper car, Umesh stopped in. He had repaired my pen and he presented it to me like a lost child. When I told him he shouldn't have gone to so much trouble, he immediately suggested that I might not want to work with this pen and he would find a beggar to give it to. Talk about jerking a tear out of me!!!

Lynne carries a fist full of pens wherever she goes and she gives one to a begging child now and again. It's astonishing how quickly a persistent beggar will be satisfied with something small that actually works and may even help.