The Kids Are Alright

Goat count: 21

Cow count: 145 (approx)

Mango chicken count: 0

St.Xavier's College in Hazaribagh is renowned as the best in the region. This morning, it is application day. As I gaze across the sports field to the main school gates, hundreds of eager parents have been waiting since 6am to collect an application form in the hope that their son or daughter might be admitted. In front of me, two women in vivid saris effortly balance stacks of 10 bricks on their heads, helping rennovate some of the dozens of guest rooms here.

Hundreds, if not thousands, of parents will apply. Only 80 or so new students will be admitted next year.

Brrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing. The jarring sound of a mechanical hammer-bell. Recess.

We walk past rows and rows and rows and rows and rows of parked bicycles and I smile at some of the students - aged between 6 and 18. They smile back. One comes up to greet me - he shakes my hand and asks me my name. Steeled by his friend, another boy comes up to me. Then another, and another and another. So this is what celebrity feels like. Before long, my whole family is swamped by easily 150 students.

"What country are you from? Austria?"
"What are your hobbies?"
"What is your facebook ID? What is your email ID?"

A flurry of hand-shaking.

"Where do you live?"
"Is Sydney the most famous city in Australia? I know Canberra"

I struggle to get too many words in, but "Teach me to say something in Hindi," I ask a wave of enthusiastic students.

They do.

"What does that mean?"
They tell me.

"Well I DO love India," I say.

The crowd - no exaggeration - erupts. The cheering is actually a little much to take.

We drag ourselves away ever so gradually - still being tailed by one boy - desperate for me to write down our facebook and email details. Which I do. Can't wait to get home and check facebook.