Nothing came of their efforts because I was far too stubborn to even try to “date.” Finally, one of my darker friends took me to lunch.He took me to a very discreet inn, where only distinguished, mature gentlemen were allowed entry, in fact, my friend and I, in our early sixties, were the youngest men to come inside. We were greeted in the lobby by an aged husband and wife dressed in formal kimonos, hers was adorned with a bright obi, while he wore a woven sash. My friend introduced me, affirming his sponsorship of my membership.The old lady then led us into the “dining area,” a room intricately divided by finely carved ebony dividing screens with a small table in each cubicle. We arrived at my table first, but to my surprise, instead of a short table where I would kneel to eat, the table was tall, with a black lacquered chair in front of it. The table itself was two tiered, the lower tier by the chair was about twelve inches deep, the upper tier, rose only about ten to twelve. I could see dad was already calculating in his head as to how much money he was gonna save. “Where are you going to stay da? You don’t even know how to cook, how will you stay here?” my sister asked, clearly the only one genuinely concerned about me. Mom returned and both she and dad echoed my sister’s query. Mom started listing the various relatives I can stay with, when I interjected, “I can perhaps stay at Anjan’s? I hate staying with our relatives, you know that! If I stay with Anjan, I can study with him too, in the evenings.” Dad was quick to raise the obvious concern, “We can’t possibly bother them with this, da. It makes sense, though, but it will be a big imposition on them.” “He spends most of his time there anyway, I doubt they would mind”, my mom chimed in, “I’ll talk to Anjan’s mom about it.” I forced myself to stay calm, although this was deviating from the plan. “His mom had slight fever when I left in the evening, amma; she was planning on sleeping early (obviously a.
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