31
At 10.15 on Tuesday morning, my phone rang.
‘We are entering Dumraon. Ten more minutes,’ Samantha said.
I rushed to the school entrance. Twenty kids assigned to be the
welcome party formed two lines facing each other. Each held a plate
with rose petals to be showered on the guests. A girl from class V
would apply the tika.
Parents had already arrived. Over a thousand guests sat on red
plastic chairs under the tent set up for the occasion. Dignitaries and
special invitees sat in the front VIP rows.
The fleet of eight cars became visible. The kids in the welcome
team squealed in excitement. They started to throw flower petals at
each other.
‘Stop it,’ I said to them.
Mr Gates stepped out of his car. Media persons surrounded him,
taking pictures non-stop. A team of ten Americans, including
Samantha, and five Indians from the Foundation, stood behind Mr
Gates.
‘Hi,’ Riya’s voice startled me. I turned to face her. She wore a
baby-pink saree with little silver dots all over. She resembled the rose
petals on the kids’ plates.
‘Saree?’ I said.
She spread her arms. Just seeing her lean body, subtle curves and
the pink chiffon fabric draped around her, made me feel richer than
the richest man in the world who waited for me.
‘How do I look?’ she said.
‘Like Miss India,’ I said. She laughed.
‘Now attend to your guests. I’ll find a place inside.’
‘But Riya...’
‘Shh... Focus on them. All the best.’
She gave me a quick hug and hurried inside.
‘Mr Gates, this is Madhav, one of the founders of the school, from