South India - Leaving Pondicherry and the importance of Mr Kumar

Our parting memory of Serenity Beach is of Mr Kumar.

One of the regular beach TukTuk drivers.

Honest men struggling seven days a week to earn enough to care for their parents, and ensure their sons can become Marine Engineers and daughters Accountants.

His story willingly shared. Of course he wants us to have sympathy, and of course there is a hidden agenda, but this agenda is so superficially hidden that it is in itself, worthy.

His constant smile makes my face ache just looking at him. Mid forties, two kids, and the scariest habit of driving on entirely the wrong side of the road against heavy on-coming traffic. We WhatsApp'd him a week ago and he collected us, out of uniform, having ducked away from a family party to do so.

Luckily he drove us last night, our final farewell to Pondicherry, Tamil Nadu, South India. He collected us after a meal at Coromandel Cafe which was near perfection. A ginger sour so delicious that I struggle to think of a better cocktail anywhere in the world. Louise and a friend had steak there one night a couple of weeks ago, and the small mouthful I had then lingered. To the extent that when choosing a final meal venue I sneakily managed to get my own way, blathering on about the cool French colonial building and the aircon.

Mr Kumar was dutifully waiting at the appointed time, chatting to an elegantly dressed lady. She hopped aboard the TukTuk as we set off for home. He introduced us to his wife. She has spent the whole day at the Public Hospital.

Mr K's mother is an in-patient there. She had her toes amputated a few days ago. From what I understood, mum had a stroke five years ago. It doesn't require Einstein to know her diabetes is the cause. He explained that mum hid her sore toes from him for nearly a year because he has two kids who need educating and to protect him from her worries and the expense. He found out about the toes from the smell. In the Public Hospital, families help feed and give post operative care.

Mrs K had been there 12 hours, as she will be everyday until discharge.

She was tired. Mr K described her as a village girl who doesn't understand English. Of course like any wife she immediately knew her husband well enough to spot when he was talking about her. She had enough English to reprimand him roundly, for our amusement. I told her he was a much better driver when she was in the TukTuk, and she beamed from ear to ear as I described her as his precious cargo.

We got chatting as always. Their daughter is going to college, three lakh rupees, (300,000 rupees or £3000) per year. Son's schooling is one lakh. So that's £4000 per year. "This is why I ask 400 rupees (£4) when the journey is worth 350 (£3.50) only".

The average wage in India is around £40 per month. Our maid earns £80 according to our Airbnb host.

We collected their shopping and he deposited her home. Their home is in the warren of streets behind our beach.

They invited us to join them for a meal today. She's a very very good cook we were told. We genuinely can't make it, but this hospitality is so typical of the local generous good nature.  So far we've declined three meals and a wedding due to prior engagements in the month we have been here. We were nonetheless introduced to his second mother who lives with them, his late father had two wives. His 16 year old son and 19 year old daughter were woken to say hello to us.

On the final leg of the journey, he explained how blessed he was to have met us. How grateful he was for our custom and friendship.

He won't drive us today because the driver code states that our trade to be shared amongst all the drivers. Louise gave him 2000 rupees in payment for a 500 rupee journey, and said that when his children have finished education, if they are coming to England, and want to stay with us for a while, they are very welcome, he has our WhatsApp.

The poor man. He tried so hard to hide his tears. But then they came. He was in floods.

I did not get a photograph of Mr Kumar. We didn't realise how important he was until after he had pulled away.

The sole aim of his life, to provide. Life is hard. He is as close to a hunter gatherer as it's possible to be in a fully civilised society. His singular aim is to see his children achieve more than he. Perhaps it is with us too, but we have the luck and privilege not to see it so clearly.

Now, onward overland to Madurai.

Then we leave Tamil Nadu for the cooling heights of the Western Ghats into the tea plantations of Munnar.

After that we plan to travel on deeper into Kerala. There's a home stay by a river followed by a lakeside heritage hotel stay on Venbanad Lake. An overnight on a converted rice barge to explore the Backwaters around Allepey. Then finally return after 35 years to Kochi, formerly Cochin.

But our static adventure in India is over. If you've read our blogs you will know we took a while to adjust but that we've grown to love this place. We aimed to find out if we could get tired of being in one place, and discovered we could not. We will miss Pondy profoundly.

Fairly randomly chosen, it's proved to be a jewel of a place. Full of wonderful experiences for all six senses, if you include the yoga. Memorable for so much more than the photograph's. Most of all for Mr Kumar and all the wonderful people we have met.