Saturday, 13 May 2017
Friday, 5 May 2017
I learnt how to light the gas. That, as it turns out, does not your culinary skills make. I managed to screw up lauki and whined about it so much that my Tamilian roommate will never forget the Hindi name for the vegetable. Or she might, given my vow to never be stupid enough to voluntarily buy it again.
Podalunga means jhinge (snake gourd) and is a slang term for nonsense.
Manga maria means 'dumb mango' which has to be the cutest pejorative term ever coined.
You would think morning walks would be a universal experience. But a surprisingly large proportion of middle class men here walk in rubber slippers. I can't help think that Delhi uncles would shrivel up in embarrassment if they had to do that.
Men also walk in lungis. If you were not Indian, I would explain it as a wraparound skirt for men whose length can be adjusted according to convenience. And it's often short enough that the same length of skirt on a woman here would inspire scandal.
There is also a gym for adults in my neighbourhood park. To be fair, I have no frame of reference for this in Delhi, not having been to a park in years.
As a child, my mum often took me for a walk to a lane in my neighbourhood which she for some reason called sea beach. I don't know if it was the evening breeze or just whimsy.
My neighbourhood park here is probably equivalent to Central Park in Delhi, going purely by location and its importance on bus routes. Which makes me think wistfully about how lucky Delhiites are because this one is tiny. On the plus side this is not inhabited by loving couples and serial molesters/flashers.
A middle aged man leaned very close to me and wished me a good morning. I'm not sure whether that was an invasion of personal space or just regular politeness.
If he was trying to be creepy though, it was a very poor attempt.
Apparently there is a doggie style asana in yoga. It's where people get on their fours and pant like dogs.
I doubt if it's actually called doggie style.
I may have just enabled a large inflow of traffic to the blog. I would have said inadvertently enabled but then it would be a lie.
I also saw an exercise form where a man was lying on his stomach and another man walked over his back. Right in the middle of the park.
Maybe it was just a bunch of friends doing bakchodi. You know friends, those people you hang out with on weekends and after work.
Yeah I use a lot of words while writing that I wouldn't say out aloud. Bakchodi being one of them.
I figured out a route to the chai shop on my own. Well not my own, I was still aided by Google, but I figured out there was a shorter route. Also I may have pushed myself to walk by promising masala chai.
Monday, 1 May 2017
The only time I think I have too many clothes is when I pack them.
After an entire morning of telling myself that I would cook for myself, I gave up at the first hint of trouble - when I couldn't get the gas lit.
I now think Wake Up Sid had zero insight on urban living by single people trying to make a career. Friends on the other hand, is fantastic. Especially the bit about traipsing about naked in an empty house.
The main problem about having your own place is the existential crisis that strikes you when you realise you like shopping for bedspreads in vibrant patterns.
There is also the issue of spending half of your time doing the dishes. But then that might be a case of my personal incompetence.
I went to a concert by a fairly popular Bangla band. It was supposed to begin at 6:30 but the Bengali cultural association that was organising the programme wanted to first have a prize distribution programme followed by its office bearers guilting the people attending about the lack of audience. And how even a national award winner could not ensure a houseful.
A bunch of aunties opened for the band, with a lovely ditty about how we are all Chennai bashi but how are hearts beat for Bangla. Yeah, I snorted through that.
The main band performance was great though. Anupam Roy (said National award winner) sang all the favourites. He also talked about the time he spent working in Bangalore, and sang something he had written when he was missing Kolkata at the time. What struck me was the kind of love and longing that city can evoke. I have lived all my life in Delhi and while I miss home and miss friends and familiar faces, I can hardly profess to missing the city. At least not enough to write songs about it. (Or to turn up for performances by Delhi bands or just network with people from there).
A man in the audience wanted to know if Anupam had sang the Kolkata song in front of Didi. If she listened and ensured enough jobs, no one from Kolkata would have to migrate to Chennai.
I love that Bengalis as a class, maintain a healthy lack of faith in their political leaders.
Yeah OK, I know Swapan Dasgupta is Bengali.
It's a sample size of 2, but corner cigarette shops here tend to have a mixer that they use to churn out very nice nimbu pani. It's also rather clever. I will never be using my arms to stir the sugar in now.
(Before you ask, no, I haven't started smoking).
The watchman in my building is Hindi speaking. But my Delhi Person Paranoia (DPP henceforth) stops me from chatting with him. And even though he helped me carry my luggage to the flat, my general social awkwardness stopped me from tipping him. Now I'm hoping my parents will do the needful when they visit.
PS: the blog completed 5 years recently.
PPS: Vibrant patterns as below: