When I got to the Post Office with my wicker basket stitched up in white muslin and sealed with sealing wax I presented it at the counter for weighing and the calculation of postal cost. A large friendly Sikh man did the honours and declared that the parcel would cost 625 Rupees to send to the UK. At official rates this was about £18. At least the contents were worth more. The stamps were purchased and affixed. The Post Office official then told me in a matter of fact way that the parcel was over sized and wobbled his head. I said I did not know that there was a regulation size. He assured me there was one and he told me that the maximum size for a parcel was the equivalent of two cases of Mr Pik drinking water and he wobbled his head again. I told him again that I had not known that. He assured me that it was the case and again I noticed the head wobble slightly. All the time the man had a very pleasant smile on his face. I told him that I was sure it wasn't very much larger than the regulation size and that it wouldn't be a problem. The Postal worker had the air of a man who had been trying to make a very subtle point and with a resigned sort of look he franked all the stamps and removed the parcel to a shelf for parcels that were to be posted. I left the Post Office and made my way back to Paharganj. As I walked it began to dawn on me that the official had been hinting that my parcel would miraculously become of regulation size if I were to give him a little incentive. His approach had been just a little too subtle. The head wobble was supposed to be the unspoken sign. I worried for a little while that my parcel might not actually be posted, but what could I do?
As I reached the junction where I had been accosted some while earlier there was the young man who had done the accosting waiting for me. He greeted me joyfully reminding me of the appointment I had made. There was no avoiding him and I really didn't have very much else to do so I agreed to go with him to see his Guru.
