Although eyes still brimmed with unasked questions, they appeared to accept the answer – for now. But there was a feeling of unfinished business.

“Listen,” Max said to Padam. “Is it possible to have a private conversation around here?”

But even as he spoke he realized he’d made a mistake.

“What – you not liking people?”

“No, not at all,” Max said meaning the opposite. “I love people. I have no problem with people at all. It’s just some things…”

He smiled hopefully at Padam – give us a break?

“Isn’t anything private around here? I mean… seriously?”

Padam reluctantly turned to the crowd.

“Chello,” he said quietly.

“Chello, chello.”

The crowd drifted away reluctantly, still with an unabated, exuberant curiosity. Everyone knew there was more to come but, for now, one word from Padam and the fun was simply over.

Max was impressed –

“What does that mean – “chello”?”

It certainly was effective.

““Chello” mean go away,” Padam said. “Or maybe sometimes – fuck off! Depending on how saying.”

11.4

A policeman sauntered by, nodding knowingly to Padam.

“What was that about?”

“Money.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that – do you pay the police?”

“Of course – everyone paying police.”

“I want to pay something.”

Padam frowned deeply.

“You no money paying here!”

“But… a contribution?” Max protested.

“You our guest!” Padam smiled.

“Seriously,” Max said. “I want to give you some money.”

It was one of his idiosyncrasies – the way he was brought up. He always needed to know he was pulling his weight – especially here, surrounded by beggars.

“You want paying… rent money?”

“Call it rent if you like – I don’t care what you call it.”