Ponto de Vista

Tiny kiosks selling “American Corns” have become both cottage industry and franchise opp nearly everywhere in metropolitan India. I see them in every market and every mall and movie theatre.
The other day, near a stall that sell the steamed “corns” (in masala – yum, Chinese – too salty, Italian – too much oregano, and American – absolutely bland flavors) I found the discarded packaging of the frozen kernels.
It gives me the absolute heebie-jeebies every time I see it written down as corns (plural).
I always, always get a mental visual that grosses me out. In fact, a simple google search will show you exactly what I mean.
Ick, ick, ick, ick.

This was taken in Sarojini Nagar market — the capital for surplus and export-rejects shopping. Here you can keep up with the Joneses (literally) by shopping for U.S. department store brands in the open — and you can bargain down, too!

If you’re lucky, you could find three samples of the very same grey wool sweater with each one bearing a different label: Gap, Express, or Abercrombie & Fitch. As I did — I got the A&F one 😉 For the equivalent of $3.80.

But if you’re really, truly lucky, you’d definitely want to thank your maker for such a fantastic price as on these ‘stolls’ and ‘skarps’, non?

No one at home likes this stuff, but I am turning into a shakarkandhi chaat fiend. I could live on this stuff. Well, all winter long, when it’s available, anyway…
It’s basically a sweet potato that’s been slow cooked over a coal fire and then peeled, diced, and shaken in a few spicy masalas and lemon juice. So yum! And hey, it’s cheap, easily available, low in calories and has a low glycemic index. Who could ask for a better snack? 😉

Towards the end of October and then through December, there’s a totally heady scent that cuts through the gritty grime, the fumes, and the general smell of something burning, here on the streets of Delhi. There’s a huge tree right outside my house, in fact. And though it’s done blooming, there are plenty in the neighborhood under which I pause just to inhale the scent. Late one night, a friend and I were going to coffee in Defence Colony. We parked under one of these near the gumbad, and asked one of the parking attendants the name of the tree. He did tell us what it was called but the next day neither of us could recall what he’d said.
But, then I asked my handy dandy walking-talking Encyclopedia-Botanica (my mother) and I hadn’t even gotten to describing the sheflara-like leaves when she pronounced I was drunk on Alstonia Scholaris. She said it’s the only thing she misses about Delhi.

Last month, Ma and I traveled by train to Amritsar — my first train ride since last January, when V and I went to Agra (and I left a trail of vomit all over the city and station.) I did get a headache on the way back, but was still charmed by the fact that while the colors have changed, we still get served tea in thermoses on the Shatabdi. And a ‘tea kit’ with sugar, dairy creamer, a tiny stirrer and lots of sugar.

Taken at my office, this madhumalti bush in bloom made me smile for weeks 🙂

The Nine “divine” days of Navaratri just finished. (I had no idea it comes twice a year, btw. Yeesh.) and there were a lot of poojas and such all across the country.
In Bombay and Kolkata, idols of the goddess Durga were eventually, erm, drowned, immersed in the sea with great pomp (holding up traffic madly). On the 10th day (Vijay Dashmi), in Bombay, at least the cars all wear a smile of marigolds. I have no idea why. And some shops and homes are wreathed in garlands, too.
This photo was taken in Delhi. Bhola Singh was up to his elbows in pretty flowers when we left. What fun!

So, early one Saturday, I went downstairs to get something and heard Meena, one of the maids, screaming from the garden to Anita the other maid upstairs on my floor to shut the balcony door immediately — there was a monkey on the parapet. Given that Anita is petrified of the dogs, Meena guessed right that having a monkey come in while she swept would not have amused her. So Anita shut the door. Meanwhile the monkey hung out and calmly watched all the chaos.
I can’t believe that such a huge wild animal is hanging out in suburban Delhi. Yes, we see them at tombs and in large parks but in congested, residential South Delhi? Anyway, I’m haunted by the thought of said visitor stealing my underwear which dries in the balcony he was just below. I’m not sure what I’d do if I found this chap in my bra and panties — let him keep them, I guess.

Sometimes a little intervention helps, I guess.
Especially when you’re getting certain fluids tested…?

At the cinema in Vasant Vihar, security pretends to be strict. They make you check your bags (even laptops) at the chaiwala near by. The alternative is to skip the movie and wait for your friends or go home … so grumbling and exasperated, I checked it in for the princely (and not really confidence-inspiring) sum of Rs. 10. And when I went to pick it up I found a whole fresh batch of chai being brewed, ready to be served into these tiny, tiny cups. Oh well. I guess such a small quantity is good for somebody! (I need a much larger fix.)