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The bus crunched to a halt, and Margaret was jolted out of her sleep. A moment of confused silence, then the passengers began to grumble and squirm. She looked out of the window. The white heat of the afternoon flashed back at her. Desperate to stretch her legs and escape the crush of sweaty passengers, she got off the bus.

Margaret was travelling the well-worn route to the Taj Mahal. Having just gone through a painful divorce, she thought this was the solution to heal the pain: the further away from home she went, the quicker she鈥檇 get over it. Perhaps it was true. Or was it the jumbled, old-fangled non-stop tour of India that didn鈥檛 give her time enough to brood? Most of the time, she was looking out for herself, and tackle each day as it came. This time, the bus had broken down, and they鈥檇 have to wait till the driver fixed it. As she looked around, the shaded interiors of a chai-shop enticed her towards it. It could hardly be called a shop: a battered table and few plastic chairs, a black kettle boiling on a stove, a row of inedible looking edibles in glass jars, all this within mud walls and a thatched roof.

The scorching sun sucked every bit of energy from her. So she hoped to revive herself with some strong chai. The chai-wallah glanced at her and wiped a spot on the table, indicating where she ought to take a seat. She ordered a masala- chai. She was not sure if visiting the Taj was such a good idea. They had planned that trip for their honeymoon, but never went. Not enough money, he said. There was never enough money. That had been the problem. No money to buy a house. No money to have a baby. Four jobs between the two of them, and yet they struggled. Till Margaret found out there never had been a second job. And there was a baby鈥� only it wasn鈥檛 her鈥檚.

A chair scraped aside next to her. Margaret looked. A man sat there and smiled at her. A shadow came over them, and a huge bear pulled up another chair. Startled, Margaret choked on her tea and spluttered.

鈥淥h no, sister,鈥� the man shot up, balancing the large turban on his head. 鈥淭his is Munni鈥� very polite bear, she make no trouble. We sit here many times. Munni like to eat biscuits.鈥�

The chai鈥搘allah rushed up to her. 鈥淧lease, madam. They are regular customers. But I can ask them to leave.鈥�

鈥淥h鈥︹�滿argaret looked embarrassed. 鈥淚t鈥檚 okay then.鈥� She smiled at the concerned bear-wallah, and Munni sat down, squashing her big body into the tiny chair. She eyed the goodies in the glass jars and her muzzle quivered in response.

鈥淪o sorry, Memsahib. Let me introduce. She is Munni, the dancing bear of Agra. Look how she is stylish. Like proper Bollywood heroine. She memsahib bear, only understand English.鈥� The bear-wallah鈥檚 chest expanded as he jabbered on. Munni scrutinised her red painted claws and yawned. She was dressed in a blue frock and had a fine collection of beads around her neck. Her bristly skin had been brushed and oiled till it shone and through her plunging neckline, shone a soft patch of golden hair. The strong rose perfume was quite inefficient in camouflaging her pungent bear smell. She batted her eyelids at Margaret from under her straw hat.

Margaret felt a giggle tickle her throat. She swallowed and said, 鈥淵ou speak very good English.鈥�

鈥淵es, yes. I learning from American tourist. For Munni is foreigner. She is from China.鈥�

He looked so serious and proud Margaret could not laugh on his face. Surely, a Chinese bear would need to understand Chinese, not English. She looked at this wizened old man, dark and rough as a cinnamon bark. The turban balanced adamantly on his tiny head, his moustache well oiled and suspiciously black. Margaret presumed they both used the same oils for grooming.

鈥淏ut memsahib, Munni have sad life before I save her. Her old master beat her and not feed her. Always hungry. Always crying, my daughter, Munni.鈥� Tears sprung to his eyes. Munni ambled up to him, her dress rustling against her bristly body and put her snout in his lap. He stroked it absently and blew his nose. 鈥淪ome bearwallah not love their bears. Only think of money, memsahib, and not for bear. Look鈥︹��
He pushed Munni鈥檚 snout towards Margaret. Her snout was bent and scarred. Margaret touched it, but the bear jerked back and growled. The bearwallah held her head firmly and whispered in her ear. Munni eased back and concentrated on the biscuit in the bearwallah鈥檚 hand.

鈥淪ee,鈥� he whispered. 鈥淪till so scared. She think you beat her soon. But don鈥檛 worry, memsahib, I tell her you good lady. Not bad man like her old master. He break her nose to make holes and get the ropes through. I never beat her. She like my daughter, no?鈥�

Margaret didn鈥檛 know how to react. She had never been in intimate terms with a bear before. Somehow, she felt comforted in Munni鈥檚 presence. She too knew what it was to hurt, to share a life with a bad partner. And look at Munni now, so happy and content. This man truly loved her. Margaret鈥檚 spirits lifted seeing the odd couple.

鈥淢emsahib,鈥� the man blushed. 鈥淭oday is happy day for me.鈥�

鈥淥h. Why is that?鈥�

鈥淎 baby born for me today. My daughter after five sons,鈥� he whispered. He looked at Munni and raised his voice. 鈥淢y daughter number two,鈥� he laughed. 鈥淢unni big sister today.鈥� She twitched her ears and continued eating. 鈥溾�nd I am lucky today I see you. If you bless for her, she will be milk white like you. And get good husband.鈥�

鈥淕oodness, the baby is just a day old, and you are thinking of a husband?鈥� Margaret admonished him.

鈥淎ah yes, so important. Good husband make good life for woman. Otherwise she have lot of tears in eye.鈥� He looked worried. 鈥淲ill you bless for her, please?鈥�

Margaret was touched. Here in this strange country, where bears sat on chairs and babies were betrothed at birth, someone was asking for her blessing. Munni ambled over and sat by her feet.

鈥淏ut how will my blessing help? I am not a lucky person.鈥� Margaret whispered.

鈥淥h, memsahib鈥� how you can say such a thing? You are good health, and beautiful, I say with respect. I no see husband but, Munni telling me, you very lucky person. Not to feel sad, memsahib, no.鈥�

Margaret looked at him and smiled. 鈥淪trange, it is both your new-born baby and me, who are in a great need of a good husband! I wish someone had blessed me when I was born.鈥�

The man nodded his head. It was true, he said, the blessings from lucky or respectable elders were very essential to make a child鈥檚 future shine. The money made that entire week with Munni, would go on feasting and celebrations. The entire village would come and bless the child. 鈥淏ut,鈥� the man added in a conspiring tone. 鈥淢emsahib, your blessing is important number one. My daughter be fair like you, and her husband is happy with her. And he no marry other wife to make my daughter cry.鈥�

Margaret鈥檚 hands trembled as she took one manicured paw in her own. 鈥淧lease take my blessings to the beautiful baby. Give her all the health, wealth and happiness in the land...and a good husband,鈥� she added for good measure.

Munni sighed. The bearwallah hopped about in delight. His daughter鈥檚 future was sealed in this auspicious moment. He gathered his belongings and called to Munni. 鈥淲e have a long way to go. Munni dance for sister and I have money for celebration tomorrow.鈥�

鈥淟et me give you a present for the baby,鈥� Margaret reached for her purse.

鈥淥h no,鈥� the bear-wallah cried. 鈥淚 no take from you. You bless my daughter already. You do so much for her. My lucky daughter....鈥�

He joined his hands in reverence and turned to leave. Munni folded her paws in a namaste, and then skipped along behind him, her ankle bells tinkling. Margaret鈥檚 gaze followed them till they got distorted in her tears.