Ponto de Vista

I’ve been ‘home’ for one year. A whole year!
That happened sometime late last night and I was too frazzled to even think about it. Walking with my mother this evening before dinner, discussing my impending move to Bombay later in March, I stopped in my tracks at the realization that I’ve made it through an entire year — relatively unscathed! I can’t even begin to enumerate all the great things that have happened to me and the awesome people I’ve met, the fabulous stuff I’ve learned, done, and become a part of … not to mention the amount of street food I’ve savored… (I’m going to gloss over the crap radio job, the horrid winter, the awful allergies/ migraines/ bureaucracies/ roads …). And to make it all seem most fitting, today, I was given my first fortune cookie since I left America. And it read “You will have new adventures!” No $%*#, Sherlock! HAH!

As pretty much anyone who will listen long enough to hear me complain knows by now, I fell down the stairs last week and got pretty severe whiplash. I finally succumbed and got myself a stupid neck brace (also called a ‘collar’) (Please. I’ve already heard all the jokes) and, to my chagrin, it does help support my neck and prevent extra strain.
The brand of my brace is “MGRM.” In cursive, the acronym is spelled out below the trademarked logo: “May God Rehabilitate Mankind“. I was rather hoping the manufacturers of the brace would step in there, honestly…

I recently celebrated a birthday — and had myself a party. And got more flowers than I knew what to do with. Every single vase in the house was in use. Finally, I resorted to breaking up the bouquets and chucking the baby’s breath and other fillers to fit the actual flowers into smaller vases. I squeezed the remainders into a pen stand, wine bottles, and even a breezer bottle.
Fresh flowers — I think I’m addicted. Just looking around my digs makes me happy. Six days later, the place still smells great! And the corridor outside looks stunning, if I do say so myself 😀 So I had to document it with my camera phone and share my handiwork! Pause a minute. Take a deep breath. Maybe you’ll be able to smell the roses…
(The rest of the flowers have been photographed on my Olympus and, therefore, don’t belong on the blog.)

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.

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.

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.)

Leaving the church across my house on a Sunday afternoon was this foursome. They were just so cute, I asked if I could take a picture. And they agreed. So here they are: four to a bike.

… you’re on a bus 😉
That would be the poster of Ram Gopal Verma ki Aag on the back of a BEST bus featuring my baby brother who’s all grown up and … arrived. There are other buses tooling along with the poster along the side as well, but this is all I could capture while in motion on the roads of Mumbai.
So, since Monday, we’ve had hoopla (and no time for blog) galore. We saw the preview screening on Monday, and on Thursday we went for the red-carpet premiere. I behaved myself and acted the star-sister rather than the glamor-struck fan or the journalist 😉 And I got out of the way of the paparazzi that was solely interested in the bro … and how 😀 First day first show screening is tonight for all our friends. Critics’ assessments come tomorrow…

Rakhi, this year, was on the 28th. In the last 12 years, I think I have been physically in the same city as a brother, cousin or otherwise, only once — Berlin in the fall of 1998. For the last four years, the Internet has made life very simple. I went to a desi portal, selected a design, typed in a ‘personalized’ note, and hit send (and also punched in my credit card number.) And invariably, the rakhis have reached the brothers in the US, Europe, Australia and Asia on time. For the first time in a long time, I purchased rakhis myself, wrote out notes longhand, bought and affixed stamps, and mailed them all out. Prashant should be so glad I didn’t buy him one of these pictured here. The choices included a real cell-phone sized metal ‘phone’, a dolphin, ninjas, and rotary phones. All to be worn on the wrist, yes.