A New Ray of Hope

Chapter 2

Durrell Johnson Jr hurried to the bus stop on his old scooter.

"Hello sir. Where are you going?" asked a passerby.

"My grandson is coming to live with me, Vishwanath. He doesn't want to be in London. I am on my way to pick him up."

Durrell was seventy-five, but still healthy and strong. It was very clear that Christopher had inherited his looks and mannerisms from his grandfather. He was well-versed in English as well as many other languages, including Tamil. He stayed in India to run the chocolate factory that his father had built from scratch. Everyone in town loved Johnson's Chocolates.

The bus halted, and people rapidly got down.

"Grandpa!" yelled Christopher, as he jumped down from the bus.

"Chris!" exclaimed Durrell. He gave the young boy a huge hug and took his suitcase. "You were so little when I last saw you. If you hadn't sent me letters with your photos all these years, I would've not believed that this handsome shaver is my grandson."

"Thanks to Philomena and Sebastian, I had those photos," he said, a bit sad.

Durrell patted him on the shoulders. "It's okay. Now, you are safe with me."

"Grandpa, I want to pursue a course in English and become a professor. Do you know any colleges here?" 

"There are many colleges here," said Durrell. "And they provide fine education."

He started the scooter as he answered. Christopher sat behind him.

Durrell owned a quaint cottage which was just a short distance away from St Stephen's Church. 

"Grandpa, will these Indians treat me well?" asked Christopher, after unpacking his luggage into one of the bedrooms.  "They must be reading history which says that 'the British came as traders, but ended up ruining our country'!"

"They've changed over the years," answered Durrell. "I've seen schoolgirls giggle over conversations about the boy band which composed the song 'The Story of My Life'. What band is that?"

"One Direction," answered Christopher.

"Exactly. Many people come here from Coimbatore and all the other cities, and some of them tell me that their children are obsessed with Harry Potter!"

"Who doesn't like Harry Potter?" 

The conversation ended with that. Christopher went for a stroll, and after eating some of the chocolates from his grandfather's factory and dinner cooked by the maid, Roja, he fell fast asleep.

He had never slept so peacefully in years.