Chhavi Noticed This!

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.

This is an old photo…maybe 3 months old now. I’ve had it saved in a draft post since I took it because it’s just heartbreaking to write about. This little imp of a puppy hangs out at the dual ATM’s near my house. When we first met him, he was fuzzy and frolicky, as puppies are. The next time I met him, he had a huge wound on his head, but despite the dried blood and flies, he was in great spirits, gamboling, playing, wolfing down food. The watchmen and workers there were engaging with him, looking after the little cutie. Now, three months later, he’s sick. He’s lost his fur. His eyes ooze, he’s got fleas, he’s pretty wretched. And it breaks my heart. In Bombay there’s the Welfare of Stray Dogs that sterilizes strays and attacks the problem at the root, so to speak. I’ve been dying of guilt over this puppy. I should have called one of the animal shelters and had him fixed early on at least. And vaccinated. But this is my dilemma: should one even bother? It will sound heartless but is that really the solution? Should one actually just let them die out — as they surely will (in fact, as another sick dog down my street just did?) Wouldn’t euthanasia be a kinder fate than dying slowly once your cuteness disappears?

Ok, so I’m romanticizing wildly and anthromorphizing, as well. But when it rains and rains and rains in Bombay, everything looks like it’s smiling. Well, to me. Erm, probably because I don’t live there and don’t have to deal with crazy commutes. This past week in Bombay was super cool. After having lived in cold, cold rain for 12 years, I was happy to go out and stand Titanic-style on the balcony every time it rained because it was so wonderfully warm. I’d nearly forgotten how lovely and refreshing and welcome rain can be.

There is a loo blowing in Delhi now. No, I’m not saying there’s a toilet…blowing in the wind. This is the hot wind that blows across the Thar Desert. Temperatures are soaring. Right now, at 9:50pm, it is 43 degrees Celsius (105.8 Fahrenheit). Last week though, everytime the temperature pushed 41, it rained. And during one glorious shower, the flowers blooming in the garden were crying petals. It was so pretty. There was hibiscus, bougainvillea, lillies, and flowering shrubs leaning up into the falling drops.

So tonight we had what is called a blue moon: Two full moons in one calendar month. But late last month, I went to attend the first birthday celebration for a friend’s son. She is half Sikh and she said she dreamt that her grandfather requested her to celebrate the birthday by giving thanks in a Gurudwara. The ardas was lovely, the langar pretty good, but the moon outside — a tiny sliver — with the light emanating from the curlicued windows was icing

Dilli is blooming. There is purple jacaranda blossoming all over and boughs laden to the verge of drooping with yellow lanterns of laburnum at intervals. But nothing gladdens my heart more than the vivid splashes of orange and deep red the Gulmohurs bring. My heart is smiling.

Taken early last month when friends and I went to a Rahat Fateh Ali Khan concert at Siri Fort Auditorium. As we were waiting to enter the parking lot, we were overtaken by a ghodi. As her rider took her past us, I noticed the duo had a shadow. I found it so cute. Here they are.