He shows me family memorabilia. Wedding photos first.
A Hindu wedding with Canada prominently on the edges. Ayounger him, a younger her. They went to Niagara Fallsfor their honeymoon. Had a lovely time. Smiles to prove it.
We move back in time. Photos from his student days atUofT: with friends; in front of St. Mike's; in his room;during Diwali on Gerrard Street; reading at St. Basil'sChurch dressed in a white gown; wearing another kind ofwhite gown in a lab of the zoology department; ongraduation day. A smile every time, but his eyes tellanother story.
Photos from Brazil, with plenty of three-toed sloths in situ.
With a turn of a page we jump over the Pacific – andthere is next to nothing. He tells me that the camera didclick regularly – on all the usual important occasions – buteverything was lost. What little there is consists of whatwas assembled by Mamaji and mailed over after the events.
There is a photo taken at the zoo during the visit of aV.I.P. In black and white another world is revealed to me.
The photo is crowded with people. A union cabinet ministeris the focus of attention. There's a giraffe in thebackground. Near the edge of the group, I recognize ayounger Mr. Adirubasamy.
"Mamaji?" I ask, pointing.
"Yes," he says.
There's a man next to the minister, with hornrimmedglasses and hair very cleanly combed. He looks like aplausible Mr. Patel, face rounder than his sons.
"Is this you............