"The new house is big" Orientation finally wrapped up. Immediately after, we were moved in with host families, the three of us who didn't have one. Helaena, the student with the southern accent, already did, or she did in a way: the maharana. Helaena had made an impression on me in those first days with her easy knowledge of India. One morning, on tea break, I expressed puzzlement as to why, when I'd gone to investigate the Shaping Sense gym across from the school, the slope-browed proprietor had scowled when I'd asked about the yoga he advertised. Mr. Ahmad, I related, had been too busy overseeing the hammering of huge holes in the wall to answer questions about the StairMaster, of which there was none anyway. "Because he's a gangster," Helaena explained from the couch where she was stretched out. In Hindi and English, she had a drawl. She also had wide green eyes, a fine, straight nose, and a mouth that at rest naturally pouted, all of which combined to drive the Indians to distraction.
