Chhavi Noticed This!

Sometimes, honestly, that’s all you need, yeah? (That and a red pen to circle the errors. Sorry, once an editor, always an editor. Old habits die hard!)
This was taken outside a friend’s house in Andheri one night last month right after returning to Mumbai from a work trip to Pune. (which means this was the old camera phone).
In the last three days, it’s become so sultry in Mumbai, rather than drinking some chilled beer, which I normally do not like the taste of, I think it wouldn’t be enough to *bathe* in it…
Cheers

I haven’t been to Crawford Market in forever. Actually, I’ll have to check with my mother to find out if I’ve ever been at all (I’m acutely wary of implanted memories based on my mother’s stories of a time gone by). Today at lunch, Tan and I whizzed by two storefronts that were completely bedecked with flower wreaths (“All the better to drown you with, Sheranwali“) for Navratri, we presume. Ramzaan and Eid just finished, now it’s Navratri and Durga Puja and next up is Diwali. I LOVE being back. All this exuberant color is instant seratonin!
Oh and a sehra is the headpiece of flowers worn by the bridegroom when he’s up on his white mare, fetching his new bride with the baraat, unable to see a damn thing, at least in Punjabi

I was in Pune recently, hanging out on a friend’s balcony when I spotted this motley family coming up the road with a bunch of random things in hands, on shoulders, in arms. Slowly they unpacked their stuff and the long stick thing turned into a tightrope. But though they called out and beat a drum, there were no takers for the show. I was too far up and definitely not a worthwhile audience, so they re-packed and started to move off – except this time I was finally able to see what the dad was carrying Shravan Kumar style in his baskets – his youngest two kids!

I live right by one of the largest temples in Mumbai. But I can imagine that it’s not exactly convenient on a work day to get in a queue and await your turn for a tryst with the deity. So why not get your blessing and your karma equation balanced on the go? Well, now you can! The concept is simple: you pay for some hay to the man who owns both the cow and the feed -> you accrue good karma in your spiritual kitty! The enterprising owner of this particular mobile salavation army has parked his sacred cow outside a busy bank next to a major bus stop! (Extra bonus: since the cow is not a stray, you don’t have to worry about the Rs. 500 fine that the municipality has decided to slap on anyone feeding animals *rolls eyes*). The cow is doing great, btw, even in the rain. And I think I’m going to have to interview the cow-man soon…

Go on, look at that image carefully. Remind you of anything? No, this isn’t an old photo. It was taken at the Plaza cinema near Opera House in Mumbai just a few weeks ago. I was waiting in line with a friend for tickets to see “Singh is Kinng” when I noticed the sign and I was overcome with nostalgia for an age before computers, spell check (“Good lock!”) and printers, when all our signs for school and on our bedroom doors were painstakingly stencilled so they looked uniform, clean, and official. I still can’t believe someone at the cinema still does this! It’s so, so cool! I guess there are at least some arenas in life where a little effort is ok – and less expensive than an upgrade.

(Speaking of upgrades, my trusty Nokia 6233 died last week. I’m upgrading to a phone that has a slightly better camera. An expensive upgrade, but then I’ve never pretended to be anything less than lazy )

Uh, so this post’s title ran away from me …but never mind. What you see in close up is a Japani Samosa. We read about this in the paper – this store run by a Sikh has been selling Japanese samosas for the last 60 years, so 4 days before I packed up my life in Delhi, we went scouring the streets of Chandni Chowk and Chawdi Bazaar for all the old-world treats. (we also bought jewelry on Dariba Kalan, the silversmith street, but the food really was the biggest draw). Here, across Moti Cinema, is Manohar’s Japani Samosa stall. The samosa is shaped like an accordion fan (think deep fried, stuffed, fanned phyllo.) The chhole, though, were to die for. (And after two helpings each, we were close.)

Sigh. I don’t even feel like writing anything. There’s nothing to say. The mango season is ending. These shops are gone! Now, instead of heaps of orange, even red beauties twinkling in store fronts, you’re lucky to see a single basket heaped with green langdas at the fruit vendor’s.
The store fronts are super smart though: they’re let to the vendors seasonally. This one is a paper mart for the rest of the year, I guess.
This was the second year that South Asian alphonsos were available in the U.S. I anticipated hearing more vocal rejoicing, given how gross that fibrous tasteless mess that passes for a mango in the US is.   Lucky me to be home in desh!

It’s a different thing to have “don’t walk on the grass” signs on lawns, but this one – Please do not spit on plants – is posted in the lobby of one of the poshest, best known office buildings in Nariman Point, Mumbai’s financial district. The sheer necessity of having to post such a sign is what’s boggling my mind. How many people actually spat on the plants before the management put this up!??

India, shining, rising and ever colourful. The travel guides gush about the vivid colors everywhere (hmm, actually, so does every book on India ever, no?)
Of course, it’s true. We do colourful very well here. We sometimes leave vivid way, way behind and move into the territory of garish and  outlandish with some dexterity.
Anyway, this is the inside of a teensy tailoring shop that is owned by a lower middle class sharp-talking, tobacco-chewing lady who employs three ‘masterjis’ to do the actual tailoring. At the outer edge of this tumble of color and texture you can see one hunched over an old-timey sewing machine.

need i say more? (Oh, it’s a Tantra t-shirt)