"Ramnad (a shortened form of its longer name Ramanathapuram which means Rama's gateway), is a rural town and local centre with a population of about 75,000. It is approximately twenty miles from the coast and is situated on the main road and railway line from Madurai to Rameswaram.

This is an important route for pilgrims because both Madurai and the small island of Rameswaram with its temple town have major Hindu temples. It is important for transport because Rameswaram is the ferry port for crossings between India and Sri Lanka (although the present troubles in Sri Lanka have put a halt to this). But besides being relatively unimportant, religiously speaking, Ramnad remains a busy town and an important centre for the surrounding rural area.

Although Christians are a small minority, they form a significant proportion of the population, as European missionaries of various denominations have long been active here. The total number of Christians regularly worshipping in Church of South India congregations in the diocese of Madurai-Ramnad is about 50,000."¹

Ramnad: We've moved house! We've got a huge room with shelves and everything.² They've given us the run of the house. Some rooms are locked, but we've got showers (four of them), toilets (another four), acres of space and access to the roof! The bus journey was frightening, the sexton came to fetch and accompany us on the three hours to Ramnad. I needed more eyes than God gave me to watch my case and guitar, C. just thought I was being paranoid...

I managed to get a photo of the OM girls with the lovely Lydia (by far my favourite – be still my beating heart. etc... etc...)! I've got their HQ address and their leader has got my home address – she wants to write to my mum and dad! That'll surprise them!

Rev. Athisayam³ has assigned his nephew to work for us. Having an unpronounceable name, we call him Kumar.⁴ He speaks very little English, just single-word sentences. The Rev. seems to think we can teach him! Oh well, we'll be doing it soon enough. He's very friendly and I think we'll get on well, but we need to get him out of the faithful servant role and we can't emphasise this enough. He comes round to serve us our meals and is very useful generally, but we've got to cultivate him as our friend.

It is doing our Western sensitivities no end of harm living in the Shadow of the Empire 'n' all. As I joked to C., they are getting their own back now by not giving us our independence! The Rev. is so incredibly nervous that he's forgotten to ask us what we want or think. I think we're the first Western visitors that he's had and he isn't sure how to play it. He seems to think we come from the Arctic or something and need to be sheltered from the sun at all times, have the fan on all the time and drink hot drinks. All the time.

I opened some of the shutters to let some light in and he closed them with a frown saying, "The sun is too hot for you, I think." When we turn the fans down, he turns them up! He is so concerned about doing things right that he can't realise that we might be slightly different to what he is expecting. I think it's partly the Bishop's fault though, because he is supposed to have briefed the Rev. on how to look after us and has probably scared him with bizarre tales of English life. Bishop Pothi. has been to England a few times, but you know how people like to exaggerate...

Although his English is very good, the Rev. is a little unused to 'real' English speakers and as a result he just doesn't get what we're saying.⁵

Example:

• "We were shown around the temple by Henry Joe," says C.
• "Who?"
• "Henry Joe, do you know him?"
• "No, who?"
• "Henry Joe" (with rolled 'r' and shortened 'o')
• "No – Henry Joe – no, I don't know him."
• "Henry Joe" I say, slowly and precisely, desperately trying not to sound like an Englishman abroad, although of course, I am.
• "Oh yes, I know him well." He says as if we are foolish to suggest he doesn't.

Example:

• "We want to pay in advance each month for the room and food," says C.
• "Yes, yes. Can you pay now?"
• "No, we'll have to go to the bank."
• "Yes, yes. You pay by day?"
• "No, by month," we explain patiently. The Rev. frowns and looks at his shoes. His face lightens and he looks up.
• "How much do you want to pay?"
• "How much does it cost?"
• "What did you pay in Madurai?"
• "Two hundred and twenty rupees per day"
• "Yes, yes. So two hundred rupees per day?"
• "Okay, that's fine." The Rev. looks content with this, but then concern shadows his otherwise benign features.
• "Can you pay now?"
• "No, we'll have to go to the bank. But write down how much you want and we'll get it for you tomorrow."
• "Yes, yes. Do you want to pay by day?" Etc, etc. But communication problems aside, it's great here.

In the afternoon some kids came round to stare, and some to talk. Eventually the conversation petered out and the boldest child with another unpronounceable name,⁶ challenged me to a game of chess. So the competition began. I won, but then lost to a much older lad. Then the extrovert played C. and won, so with victory in his eyes he played me again and lost.

Not that I'm showing off or anything, it's probably bad karma to win all the time. Some weird bloke came in and made straight for our room! He didn't speak to us, just looked around. We managed to convey a simple message: get out or we'll brain you with this hammer, and I'm glad to say he left without fuss.