The Hotel

The Hotel New Star is in the middle of village with no name by a road that leads to everywhere. There are green fields in the back, in the middle of which stands a solitary tree exactly 215 paces from the backdoor. The tree has been there since the time of his great-grandfather's grandfather, where sons and daughters have sat under its shade and gazed on the undulating lines of Nandi hills, like the breasts of a fallen amazon goddess.

Here lives Tipu, who was born in the back of the hotel when the new shoots burst through branches 45 years ago. His mother walked away from the smoking fire to call out to his father “your son is coming”, and Tipu was born into the waiting hands of his aunt the midwife.

Tipu spent his entire life in the Hotel, playing among the green fields held in the embrace of the hills, the sun tinting the air ochre and a hint of sweetness, the sky bluer and the grss greener. Under the Great Tree he met his childhood playmate Sita, who was playing a flute while sitting on top of a buffalo. It went without saying they will be man and wife - it was understood by all. The village nodded approvingly when their son was born 9 months after they wed, a well-formed boy with correct fingers and toes and a distinguished nose the foretold a great future. Their daughter was born after Tipu's father stepped peacefully into the other world - and so they treated her like she bore his spirit, and feted her like a maharanjana.

It was a good family, and they were well-fed by the takings from the hotel and small lots of farming. The Great Tree provided hours of fun for the children, and the Hotel provided enough for all to grow up fat and happy.

These are stories about the Hotel New Star, Tipu and Sita's family, the world around them that stops by once in a while.