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 :D)
Since I got tagged by aditya, I’m doing a random post that doesn’t quite fit ☺
To be true to my own blog, the photo is of a place I have lived in. This cool dude used to show up and hang out in my balcony last year in Delhi 🙂
4 Jobs I’ve Had (in chronological order): Girl Friday at King College, News producer at boston.com, producer at an Indian radio station, & freelance radio content producer at my company
News Radio India Sonologue.
4 Movies I Could Watch Over and Over: Dr. Strangelove (or how I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb), (more…)
I’ve lived in many cities now and one reason Delhi didn’t work for me was that it’s too landlocked. Boston, Bombay, New York…give me water! When I feel restless, here in Mumbai, I can’t jump on a bike and go off for a ride (there are no sidewalks to even walk or run on) so these days I slip off towards the sea. And then I can see the sweep of the bay – punctuated by fairy lights and the vast futility of man wrestling with nature. Or something like that 😉
When my brother and I were little, my mother decided we were using too much ‘bad language’ — we were calling each other ‘stupid’ and ‘moron’ — and to curb our tongues, she instituted a fine. We were to drop 25 paise into a gulak for adjectives like that, 50 paise for using sh!#. These colorful gulaks in Mazjid Moth, Dilli, reminded me of that failed behavioural modification experiment 😀
Were this gulak thing instituted in our house again, all of us would be contributing quite a bit — parents included! Hmm, maybe we could use the spoils to get some good PG-13 DVD’s … 😉
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!
So, while I do miss Trader Joe’s and biking along the Charles in Boston, the one thing I’ve found a good substitute for is the library. I actually patronize (that sounds awful) Eloor
which is beautifully stocked and really a pleasure to visit. The other day, though, I was surprised to find that the hole-in-the-wall library I frequented as a kid, daily (except on Mondays when they were closed, so I was allowed two books on Sundays,) had re-opened. As a 7-year-old I would ride to the library sitting side-saddle on the back rack of our Man Friday’s bike. By the time I was 11, I was deemed old enough to manage the 8-minute walk on my own. Displaying my OCD tendencies even then, I serially ploughed through all the Enid Blytons, Carolyne Keene’s, Franklin W. Dixons, Alfred Hitchcocks, Robert Arthurs‘s Three Investigator books (Jupitor Jones is responsible, I’m sure, for my obsession with business cards) graduating on to Sidney Sheldon and Lawrence Anderson. What was my mother thinking?? Nah, I’m glad she gave me free reign. Yes, I was precocious, but, hey, I knew stuff!! 😀 Oh and the 3L’s are: Live, Laugh, Learn. Cute, no?
I miss cinnamon rolls. I really do. I even miss the Pillsbury DIY (pretty awful) kind of cinnamon rolls I’d pop open at my brunches 🙁
When she was visiting, mom picked this up for me and I got so excited. But it was totally misplaced excitement. It’s not a cinnamon roll. In fact, it’s not even sweet. Noooo … this ‘confectionary’ is actually a mint/pudina roll. It’s spicy and … just not what my eyes and taste buds had perked up about. So sad 🙁 Next to it is depicted what was a sinfully good lemon tart.
I’ve promised folks pancakes for brunch someday. When I have a life …
In South Ex market, I spotted the chhuri-sharpening guy — sharpening knives with his self-powered bicycle tool. Pretty cool, eh?
I learned recently that the US and India have agreed on a trade â€“ Mangoes in the US for Harley Davidsons in India.
The first South Indian mangoes are already in Delhi. Red and green on the outside, golden orange and pulpy inside, they are divinely sweet.
mmmmmm mmmmmm mmmmmm.
Here’s a description of some varieties that India produces. And here’s the Press Information Bureau of India’s scientific take on the nutritional properties of the incomparable mango: “Good mango varieties contain over 20 per cent of the total soluble solids (sugars). The acid content of ripe dessert fruit varies from 0.2 to 0.5 per cent and the protein content is about one per cent. Mango is also considered to have medicinal properties. The ripe fruit is fattening, diuretic and laxative. It helps to increase digestive capacity and the brain power.” 😉
Look at that baby mouse — beseeching me not to eat him. I resisted for a long time, then I figured, with all apologies to the poor dear, James, and Ami — he was made to be eaten. And in Delhi’s heat, he’d simply spoil if I didn’t put him to rest. <sigh> Broke my heart, but he was delicious! And now I have a L. A. Burdick box from the heart of Harvard Square to keep trinkets in.