Stranger's Stories: A Glimpse into the Life of a New Friend in a New City

We had been in New Delhi for four hours and had already checked into the room from hell, then practically gave away a large chunk of our money. Now we were putting our trust in Ghoti, a man we’d only just met to drive us round on roads that not only didn’t have lanes but were chock-a-block with the various modes of transport leaving no space at all. It was hectic, and that was putting it lightly. We were amazed at how many people could fit on the back of a motorbike. Ghoti chortled at how easily impressed we were.
“I fit many people in this car. The most I fit was all my family; my wife, son and daughters. Ten people,” he changed gear. “Until I crash.”
It turned out he was reasonably new to the job. The fear of my safety suddenly became so great that I reached a sudden and irrational calm. I was so out of my comfort zone that I was weirdly at peace with what was happening. Stuart on the other hand was holding on for dear life. His knuckles white from holding onto the assist handle above him.
“Before this I was bodyguard for well-known man of government,” his English was outstanding to say he had taught himself. “I had to leave job as I never saw my family. Working as guard for famous man was an honour and it made my family proud. But it does not matter if family are proud of man that they never see.”
Family seemed important to him; he spoke of them a lot. At first we assumed he was working too many hours in the day to get home in time before the kids go to bed. We were wrong.
“As bodyguard I did not see my family for over a year. Now I see them every two month. My family live is small village over five hundred kilometre away. This is too far for me to drive back. I work many, many days until I have a day off. Up to sixty days before day off.”
When we arrived at the Lotus Temple we invited him along with us. The temple was surrounded with vast gardens containing more hexagonal divisions of flowers and pools of water, which were joined together with white marble.
“Life in India can be hard. You work to survive. I only see family once a year if I am lucky man. Until one day I hear my son die. He was only ten year old and I had not seen him for long time. I realise I had to leave good job to see the ones I love. It is only a couple more days in the year, but they know I am closer.”
He seemed like a happy man, only 5ft 5” but plump from the rich foods and cheap whiskey. His face bore a grin, which made his cheeks chubby. He was our first friend in India.