The distant cry of “Chinese sileek” would send us little children scampering indoors as there was a malicious rumour that some Chinese men were in town to kidnap children. It took quite a while for our parents to reassure us that those men were in Madras for a living, leaving their little children like us behind.
That message got through to us as John (every Chinese man was John!) began visiting our home every couple of months.
That was in the late 1930s, and memories come tumbling into my mind from those distant years. We watched John, wearing a sola topee, from a distance as he approached riding a bicycle. His frequent calls of “Chinese sileek” were more of a mild-mannered notice of his presence than a persistent demand to be invited home.
He turned out to be a soft-spoken, polite person as he got off his bicycle and unloaded a large khaki-wrapped bundle from its carrier. He then laid it on the floor and untied the knot at the top to reveal neat stacks of silks for men and women.
Disarming proposal
Men were initially concerned that he visited homes when they were at work and influenced the wives with his spiel. John, with his twinkling eyes, sensed this and disarmed the men by offering to visit on Sundays. I heard it said so many times that John never pressed any item on any customer.
He explained the features of each bolt of silk and waited to answer questions. He had silk for eastern and western feminine tastes. Saris and dresses posed no problem for him, and he was ready with precisely what a woman wanted.
I recall that my father, like many of his civil service colleagues, wore a three-piece cream-coloured silk suit to office. John had Shandong silk for suits, just the right material for the local weather. My research in later years showed that the town of Shandong in China was famous for its silk with a linen-like feel.
There was never a debate on quality. Any question regarding price was swiftly answered by a request that the customer decide the price. He would spell out the base price with proof and then list his expenses for transporting the wares from China to Madras, via Penang or Singapore, and his stay, and what he needed to take home.
The customers were silently persuaded by the thought of John cycling all day every day and the miles he covered to find a living. John had a wide group of local friends from his Madras neighbourhood and even spoke in Tamil with them.
He was in the habit of bringing little gifts from China for his regular customers during every visit. I think my sister still has an elaborately embroidered linen handbag with scalloped edges gifted to our mother.
Years have passed and much has changed. But memories do not fade, and those of John are nostalgic.
kuttydignity@gmail.com
