Home away from home

• A sweltering 42 degrees outside
• The first rain after the 42 degrees
• The smell of that rain falling on the soil
• Not having to wake up at 5:30 am
• An avalanche of adoring relatives descending upon me (half of whom I don't know; I did not grow up there)
• Being told that I've become too thin (Erm, my weight has stayed the same since the year 2001, except for when I was preggers)
• Being told that Xena is too thin (you don't say!)
• Being asked if I give her food
• Xena being asked if I give her food
• Getting lunch/dinner invitations from relatives on a daily basis
• Getting lunch invitations from relatives of relatives (ok that's very sweet, but why?)
• Mom constantly asking me what I want to eat
• Cousins and cousins-in-law constantly getting me all the things I like to eat
• Chicken biryani from the restaurant whose name no one knows but which is known as "the place where the owner makes the biryani himself and refuses to remove the dum until IT IS TIME, no matter how long the queue of starved patrons is
• Mutton biryani from the above-mentioned place
• Remembering the trauma experienced during my last visit and swearing off street food (blame it on two decades of living in super sanitised Singapore) 
• Thinking "Ok I will only have a little bit and early enough during my trip so I don't fall sick just before the flight"
• Roadside chicken samosas on day 2
• Eating said chicken samosas in a parked car next to the stall, with tears streaming down my face, thanks to the freshly chopped onions that accompany the samosas
• The driver opening his window because tears are about to roll down his eyes too
• Roadside chicken pakodas on day 3
• Roadside chaat on day 3
• Telling myself that's the last of the street food, but then spotting the pani puri man
• Trying not to think of the 'behind the scenes' as I eat the street food
• Roadside pani puri 2 days before my flight (to my credit, I stopped myself at 6)
• Guiltily offering roadside food to Xena and feeling relieved at her polite rejection
• Mango season
• Masala Thums Up
• Egg rolls
• Intercity drives to see more relatives who feed me and then feed me some more
• A flabbergasted Xena looking at Virat Kohli's face on every other giant billboard, selling everything from steel to sherwanis, asking me, "Mama, when does Virat Uncle play cricket?"
• A flabbergasted Xena counting the cows and bulls (134) spotted on the road during a single (but long) car ride 
• Shopping, and shopping some more
• Weighing my suitcase on a daily basis to make sure my shopping didn't exceed my baggage allowance
• Wondering how the driver passes the time when we go on long shopping trips
• Getting excited to see the giant bottles of Thums Up at Big Bazar
• Kaam wali bai touching my feet! (omg she's probably the same age as me)
• Xena refusing to touch anyone's feet, but doing a shy namaste to save her unsanskari mommy from total humiliation
• Saas-bahu serials still going strong, which ladies now watch on their phones as they cook
• More people to send me random WhatsApp forwards
• More random relatives adding me on Facebook 
• Hearing fireworks and wondering if someone is getting married or watching the World Cup
• Kids as young as 1.5 years old swiping away on mobile phones for literally hours
• Xena discovering in utter amazement that there is such a thing as cable TV that has channels only for children omg
• Relatives finding out that Xena doesn't get "TV time" and "mobile phone time" and "tablet time" and asking me why I'm torturing my child
• Trying to cross the road with vehicles coming at me from every direction
• Trying to cross the above-mentioned road with Xena
• The sheer affection from people 
• The utter chaos in everything, everywhere
• Feeling strangely old and young at the same time when I'm there (perhaps because I have spent my entire adult life in Singapore)
• Thinking to myself, "What was I thinking? NEVER doing this in summer again!"
• Thinking to myself, "Oh, come on."
• Do I hate it? Do I love it? I hate it. I love it. 

Yup, that about sums up my recent India trip.

All by myself

Last month, I did what I'd never done before. I travelled without Xena. In fact, I was travelling by myself after a decade! The last solo flight I took was in 2008 when I flew to Boston on work. Of course, back then Xena was not in the picture. Once she was born, she accompanied me everywhere. But this time I couldn't take her along. She's no longer in preschool, she's in proper, serious school now and I can't just randomly take off with her. But I had to go. It was my cousin's wedding in India -- one that I absolutely needed to attend. He lives with my parents now and is actually like my own brother really. There was no way I'd miss his wedding.

So I briefed father and daughter to the best of my abilities and took off. My mom-in-law offered to come and help Viv and Xena out in my absence, but I requested her not to 'come to the rescue' so quickly. Viv and I split Xena-related duties equally and just as I manage to do it all when he's travelling, I was confident he'd do the same. Just that the system had never been tested. Though Viv is perfectly capable of taking care of Xena by himself, there had never been a time when I was not in the picture. I needed all three of us to go through this experience without external assistance and see how we fare. Me without her, and them without me. It was important that we knew how to do this.

Viv and Xena did absolutely great, but it was a rather strange experience for me. Liberating, yes, but also very strange. Not so much because I was flying by myself but because I was flying without her. In fact, I kept forgetting that she wasn't with me!

Here are some random thoughts and snippets from the trip.

***

Me (thinking to myself while waiting at the boarding gate) - OMG where is my other carry-on luggage??? I had two, didn't I? Did I forget one somewhere??
Me (1 second later) - Oh wait, I'm thinking of Xena...

***

Me (while boarding) - OMG, a flight without Xena! I can watch all sorts of stuff on the inflight entertainment!
Me (1 second later) - Oh wait, I'm flying AirAsia, not Singapore Airlines...

***

Me (in the flight in the middle of the night) - I need to pee, but how?? I can't wake her up to take her along and I can't leave her sleeping next to a stranger and go!
Me (1 second later) - Oh wait.
Me (in toilet) - OMG I can pee in the airplane toilet without company! Anytime I want! Wooohooo!

***

Old uncle at transit - Beta, can you help me connect to the WiFi?
Me (looking at him and his wife suspiciously, and thinking) - OMG this is what they do. They distract you with a question and then their partner-in-crime takes off with your luggage!
Me (clutching my handbag tightly) - *connects old uncle's and his wife's phones to the WiFi*
Uncle/Aunty - Thank you, beta.
Me (thinking) - OMG where's my other carry-on??? Did they flick it?? Oh wait, that's Xena I'm thinking of... again.

***

Relative 1 at wedding (judgy look) - You left Xena behind and came???
Me (proud look) - Yes.
Relative 1 - And she was ok?
Me (prouder look) - Yes.
Relative 1 - She won't miss you?
Me (proudest look) - I don't think so.
Me (thinking in panic) - OMG what if she doesn't miss me at all?

***

Relative 2 - Did she cry at the airport?
Me - Cry? No.
Relative 2 - Then what did she say?
Me - "Bye, Mommy. Daddy, let's go home now."
Relative 2 (looking shocked) - Wow...

***

Relative 3 - How will she manage??
Me - I didn't leave her behind all by herself. Viv is there.
Relative 3 - He can manage??
Me - Of course. He's the father.
Relative 3 - Wow...

***

5-year-old nephew - Where is Xenaaaa????
Me - Oh, she hasn't come... it's just me this time.
Nephew - Waaaaaaaa! Xena didn't come?? Waaaaaaa!
Nephew's mother - Oh dear, we didn't know she wasn't coming. He spent all morning cleaning his room and prepping the toys he was going to share with her.

***

Aunt - Come over for dinner tomorrow. I'll have all your favourite things ready. Pani puri? Mutton biryani? What else?
Me - Spicy pani puri and spicy mutton biryani sound YUM.
Aunt - Ok. What else would you like to eat?
Me - Nothing else, this is more than enough.
Me (thinking) - Oh but then what will Xena eat??
Me (1 second later) - Oh.

***

Me - What time is the wedding?
Mom - The muhurat is for 11 pm.
Me (thinking) - Oh nooo, I'll miss it then. I'll need to get Xena to bed and I can't leave her there.
Me (1 second later) - Oh wait.

***

Me (day before the wedding) - What time is the XYZ ceremony?
Mom - Around 3-4 pm.
Me (thinking) - Oh no, naptime clash.
Me (1 second later) - Oh wait.

***

Mom - Take this clutch along, it will match your sari.
Me (thinking) - No no, I don't like to carry a purse when I'm in a sari; it's easier to manage her if I have nothing in my hands.
Me (1 second later) - Oh wait.

***

Me (dancing in the baraat in the middle of the road at 10 pm) - OMG I'm dancing in the baraat in the middle of the road at 10 pm.

***

Me (taking 93248273427 photos with the bride and the groom and the 23847328947 cousins) - OMG where's my kid??

Me (1 second later) - Oh.

***

Me (in the middle of the wedding) - I wonder what Viv and Xena are up to.
Me (1 second later) - Hope they're having fun.
Me (1 second later) - Bet they're having fun.
Me (1 second later) - Wait. Hope they're not having too much fun without me!

***

Whatever said and done, it was nice to have Roby the robot carefully placed on my keyboard to welcome me back (Xena was at school when I got home from the airport). 

Looking forward... not.

The whole world is already aware of my deep love for WhatsApp forwards. That's because I don't hold back. Even if I have just met you, my next few words after 'Hello' might just be 'You know those damned WhatsApp forwards...'

As Diwali approached, my heart raced. I have been receiving Happy Diwali pictures, gifs, and videos since Monday. The count currently stands at approximately 398430577094535 messages.

I did not bother to reply to any of them immediately. Not because I'm rude (actually I am, to WhatsApp forwarders) but because I wanted to wait till the worst was over and then copy-paste 'Thank you. Happy Diwali to you and your family too." the required number of times. Do it all in one shot. Save time. I shall not stoop to the level of replying to a Diwali forward with another Diwali forward. I shall send typed out text, but because there's a limit to my patience, I shall use the life-saving copy-paste feature.

Now some forward-thinking people may argue that I should be grateful -- arre someone cares enough to send you these forwards, arre someone sends you wishes because you are in their thoughts.

Nuh-oh. I'm not in their thoughts. I'm just in their bleddy contact list. I only discovered this amazing fact last week when I asked Viv why people are sending the same Diwali gif to a WhatsApp group I'm in, and then also sending it to me individually! Why me? Itna pyaar kyun?? And then he shook that wise head of his at me and said, "They're not sending it to you. They're sending it to every contact and group in their phone. Without looking, without thinking."

What I really want to know is this: is there anyone in the world who actually likes receiving this stuff? I have not met a single person who looks forward to receiving forwards. Why then are people still sending and receiving and forwarding this stuff? Why is this even a thing?

This morning, I got a Diwali forward from a school friend of mine from 20 years ago. I sent my standard 'Thank you' text, the shock of which must have knocked him right off his chair, because he immediately sent me a 'Hey!' As text. Not a gif with the word 'Hey!' creepily making its way towards me. A simple 'Hey!' in text format. That knocked me right off my chair.

So I sent back a 'Arre wah, there is a 'Hey'? I thought there was only that Diwali forward.' He got all defensive saying at least he sent the 'Hey!' when I never sent anything at all, and then I got all defensive saying 'At least I don't send you Diwali forwards'. Finally, we both agreed that we were even, and had a proper conversation for 20 minutes. It was awesome. So fine, it may have been triggered by an idiotic forward about light and prosperity and joy and lamps and illumination, but it reiterated what I miss about conversations with my old friends. Let's talk. Let's not forward. If there's nothing to talk, then let's not talk. But let's be done with the meaningless forwards. Forwards are backward. Let's stop.

However, there is, even though it's tiny and flickering, light at the end of the tunnel (wah wah how apt for the festival of lights). Once in a while, you come across some forwards which just make life worth living again. Presenting two items below, which I believe will provide much relief to those who have been recently scarred by Diwali forwards.

Pray tell

"So he's very powerful... he lives on the Moon... and he protects us." Said Xena's friend.

Xena's jaw dropped. So did mine.

We were at a restaurant in a big group and to occupy the kids, I'd asked them to play this random game where each kid gives three clues about something/someone and the other kid has to guess what/who it is.

"I don't know..." Said Xena uncertainly. She looked at me. I didn't know either so we looked at the kid who had given the clues.

"So easy! It's Sai Baba!" She laughed.

Xena looked at me again, but this time accusingly. All she knew about the Moon (she devours the kids' Science magazine I work on) was that it was a natural satellite of the Earth and it didn't have its own light and as far as we know, has no life forms on it. And here was a 7-year-old with very advanced knowledge of a powerful dude who apparently lives on the Moon and protects us.

I blinked and nodded at her. It's code for "It's ok. We will discuss this later at home."

And what would we discuss at home? DFDR. Different Families, Different Rules. We try to talk about our choices vs others families' choices without judgement. Comes in real handy when trying to explain why she doesn't have her own iPad or isn't allowed to watch TV unlike other kids, and why we don't have a car or a helper aunty, and why we don't do puja in our house, etc. etc.

Speaking of puja, we were recently invited to a navratri puja at an Indian neighbour's place. When we reached, the kids were all sitting on the floor cross-legged in front of the idol. Every kid present there attends something known as the Bal Vikas programme. They know all sorts of bhajans and mantras (there was a 2-year-old reciting the Gayatri mantra in the cutest voice ever!). Of course, it was a little weird because Xena was the only one sitting among all the kids, not singing along. She probably sat there wondering why all these kids her age (and younger!) knew all these songs, while she only knew Coke Studio Pakistan songs. In spite of some sympathetic looks, I was neither embarrassed nor proud about that fact. I looked at her, blinked and nodded. The usual routine. "It's ok. We will discuss this later at home."

I was on the phone with Mom later, telling her about how I hardly had to cook that week because of all the navratri pujas happening at neighbour's and friend's places, and adding on to that, the free flow of kanjak food that just kept coming home. I love attending these pujas. They have such a nice, vibrant, colourful atmosphere, yummy food and a chance to meet people I haven't seen in ages, and also encounter some new faces. I love the fact and I take it as an honour that I still get invited to these things, despite the hosts knowing that I'm probably the least religious person they know. For me at least, it's a social gathering more than anything else. And of course, the big pull -- everyone wears saris. (I'd go anywhere if you tell me the dress code is a sari. Sari ke liye sala kuchh bhi karega! #sarinotsorry)

"You should also have a puja and invite them na..." Mom suggested.

"I can't, Mom. You know me."

"I know..." Mom sighed.

Mom has a puja room with idols and photos of multiple gods and goddesses, and prays to them daily. In spite of that, she has not even once tried to force me to pray or do anything religious. I'm just not sure of the gods' existence, but I do respectfully acknowledge that others are. I don't even do the "I'm not religious, I'm spiritual" thingie, for I do not know what that means. Just try to be a good person, is what I tell Xena.

When I was a kid, Mom would sometimes tell me during "tough times" (not sure if I'd get 100/100 in that exam, or that scholarship, etc.), "Pray to God and you will get it." I would look at her indignantly. NO WAY was I going to pray to God (if there is one in the first place!) to ASK for stuff when I'd never even bothered to spare a thought for Him/Her during other times.

"If I were God, I'd be mighty pissed if some kid approaches me only when she wants stuff." I'd tell her, and she'd laugh.

But then, I've always loved following customs and traditions (Need someone to go rangoli for Diwali? I'm there! Some aunty needs mehendi done for karwa chauth? Summon me at once!), but it was always to do with the 'fun' aspect of it, and never the religious one. I loved making the little Lakshmi feet at the entrance to our home with rice flour paste, not because I believed it would bring the goddess of wealth home, but because it looked SO KAYOOOOT! Even now, I selectively follow traditions and customs (let's spring-clean the house for Diwali, but not for prosperity -- for the fact that a spring-cleaned house IS SO NICE!), and once in a while, question myself on my 'na idhar ka na udhar ka' stand on religious festivities.

Sometimes I've been told that as an NRI, I need to make sure I keep Xena in touch with her roots by following Indian traditions and customs. But deep down, I feel like there has to be some meaning to it. As a DAV school product, I was well-versed in many mantras like the Gayatri mantra and the Athaishwarastutiprarthnopasna mantra (yes, that's just the name of the mantra; the mantra itself is about 7386274387642 times longer), but when I think about them, what meaning do they have -- or did they ever have -- in my life? What is their significance that would make it worth it for me to teach Xena all that?

"But you can still just have a puja na... they all have it and invite you." Mom insisted.

"Mom, can you imagine me having a puja at my place? Can you imagine me establishing idols and pictures of various gods and praying to them? Following the proper procedure of doing stuff? I hardly know which finger to use when people offer me haldi-kumkum at these pujas. My leg goes to sleep in 3 seconds if I sit cross-legged on the floor, and then I'm flicking it like a mad person in a sari. If I did a Lakshmi puja, even Lakshmi would be appalled. So many people are doing the pujas properly, faaltu ka why should I irritate Her?"

"Yeah, true..." She agreed.

"Yep, so that's that. I do follow some of the customs and traditions but only the fun ones. Can't really do the serious pujas and stuff..." I said.

"Hmmm. Yes. I know. Haan toh then just have a party." She said, with an air of finality. The total lack of judgement in her voice was palpable.

Attagirl, mommy! Love you to the Earth's natural satellite and back. :)

Dessert safari

"I must be crazy," I thought to myself.

I had just read a comment from Prathi on my last post, and it said:

While in Chennai, do try "Theobroma" from Fresh Baked Goodness, Mylapore. It's what I miss most from my Chennai days..

"I must be crazy," I repeated to myself as I sent Viv a message with a link to the bakery's address and a 'Let's go!'

Speaking of crazy, Viv was out running when he saw my message. He, of mostly sound mind, had woken up at godknowswhat o'clock, to go running with his cousins at 4.30. A.M. Yes, you read that right. Did I mention we were on a holiday in India?

However, instead of sending back a "Are you crazy?", he sent a simple "Okay." I love that about him. Or maybe he was just too sleepy and tired to register that I was suggesting we go find some bakery in search of a dessert that sounded like a Greek or Egyptian person's name ("Cleopatra, meet Theobroma.") and had no other description, on the recommendation of a blog reader.

The other big reason that made us decide to go for it in a blink was how Uber and Ola have changed the landscape of getting around in India. In general, our visits in India and where we go each day are severely affected by the availability of the car and the driver. It's usually "The car is here, but driver has not come yet." or "The driver is here, but someone is out with the car." or "Neither the car, nor the driver is here." So outdoor ventures are usually limited and undertaken only when very necessary. This time, however, was totally different. We simply pretended that there was no ghar ki gaadi and ghar ka driver. We just went everywhere with Uber. I know I sound like an ad for Uber, but I was super impressed. We never had to wait more than 5 minutes for a cab and we never paid more than 200 rupees to get anywhere!

So after Viv got back from his run, he showered and we headed out in search of our Theobroma. This time we took an Ola Auto. I was blown away. Now they have Ola Autos?? How cool! We reached the address, sent the Auto on its way, looked around and found... nothing. There was no bakery, no signboard, nothing saying 'Fresh Baked Goodness'. Nooooooo........

"Google Maps can be quite screwed-up sometimes," Viv muttered.

And then suddenly, this guy standing in front of a house looked at our lost faces and asked us if we were looking for... Fresh Baked Goodness! Oh. My. Goodness. So we rushed to where he pointed (it did not look like a bakery; it was a house! And there really was no signboard anywhere!) and there it was, behind the glass display the much-discussed Theobroma. It was a giant layered chocolate cake, too giant for us to even think about buying the whole thing. But, they had these single servings of the same thing in cute little glass jars. So we got two of those and some slices of lemon cheesecake (me) and Nutella cheesecake (Viv) to share with the family.

"Do you want to walk home?" Viv suddenly said. "It's only 1 or 2 kilometres."

"Sure." I said.

I'm telling you, crazy runs in our family.

It was the middle of the day, and here we were, walking through hot and dusty roads and lanes and by-lanes, with vehicles that looked like they were headed in all directions at once (and my direction in particular) honking at everyone at once. I got scared. I, who was born in India and had lived there for the first 18 years of my life, was fearing for my life. The last time I had pulled this stunt was in 2007 when Dad was posted in Calcutta and Mom and I had gone saree-shopping for my wedding. I was so amazed at her expertise at crossing the busy streets. She'd suddenly say, "Okay, cross after the taxi!" and I'd be like "Errr, which one of the 43792378 taxis coming right at us?" So she'd grab my hand and dash across the road, with me fervently muttering, "Jai ma Calcutte-wali, mera rasta rakhna khaali."

Anyway, so we were getting great at this walking on the streets thingie, though I couldn't wait to get home, when Viv suddenly turned and said, "Do you want to stop for ice-cream?"

"Sure."

Because we were not already carrying enough desserts with us, we stopped by one of the hole-in-wall shops and got ice-cream cones. And we continued walking on that hot Chennai day, navigating the traffic along with the melting ice-cream that was threatening to drip to my elbow if I didn't act at a given speed. Never have I ever finished an ice-cream cone as quickly as I did that day!

Finally, we reached home and plonked the desserts on the dining table and ourselves on the chairs under the fan, feeling like we had conquered Mount Everest or something. We got long spoons and doled out servings of the Theobroma for everyone. It was yum! (In case you're as curious about the name as I was, Theobroma cacao is the cacao tree whose seeds are used to make chocolate.)

And of course, photo to banta hai, so here it is -- Theobroma from Fresh Baked Goodness. Layers and layers of chocolate and dark chocolate and white chocolate and mousse. 

This one's for you, Prathi! Hope I didn't get you all depressed. If so, please eat some roadside pani puri on my behalf so we're even.

Chennai Express

Thanks to purana (ooh, that autocorrected to piranha!) bewda Arun who pointed out the very embarrassing fact that I did not blog at all in October, I'm back at the bar.

Viv, Xena and I are in Chennai for Viv's cousin's wedding and it has been nothing but FUN! It is hot though, and I'm glad I took the advice of my friend who burst out laughing when I told her I was packing a full-sleeved salwar kameez because, you know, "it's winter in India". Yeah, apparently there is no winter in Chennai. We sleep at night with the AC/fan switched on. Viv has been ignoring my dirty 'yeh tumhara winter hai?' looks.

Xena got to witness her first Diwali in India, and her constant question was, "Why is it so noisy, mama?" Noisy? This? Beta, this is nothing compared to the noisy Diwalis of my childhood, most of which was spent in Bihar/Jharkhand where my dad was posted for many many years. Both Holi and Diwali used to be, for lack of a better word, quite jungli. But I shall have you know that we used to have fabulous winters and at one point, the temperature went so low that the water froze in the pipes and when we opened the taps in the morning, nothing came out.

Anyway, back to the original topic. We just wrapped up day 2 of the wedding and 'wrapped' is the right word simply because of the number of saris I've sported. (#sarinotsorry) The sari is my favourite outfit of all. I'm partial to the chiffon kinds, mainly because they don't form a parachute around you when you sit down, the way silk saris do. So yes, I've been wearing a lot of saris and jewellery and yet that has not stopped me from eating pani puris (gaahhhh that autocorrected to pain puris!) like the true jungli that I am. I'm not kidding you, I attacked the pani puri stall at the wedding as soon as I possibly could, and stopped only when the pani puri bhaiya started to get a little judgemental. I'd have continued but it was getting hard to ignore his 'Didi, ab toh bas karo' looks. Hmmph!

The food has been so spectacular that in spite of not having gymmed for a week, I'm indulging guiltlessly. Viv, on the other hand, has been feeling pangs of guilt and has really been holding back. He'd better not act like this tomorrow, because I have a Rajasthani thali meal planned for the whole family at Rajdhani tomorrow.

Over the two days of the wedding, I have been introduced to nothing short of 2772723664849494 relatives. Even my extended family is quite large, but Viv's is unfathomable. It felt like he really knew most of the thousand people present at the wedding, leaving me to wonder where on earth the groom's relatives were. On day 1, I just followed him around cluelessly, being introduced to, but not at all being able to keep track of, all the chitappas and chitthis and athais and athimbers and thathas and paatis and cousins and their spouses and kids. Luckily, unlike mine, his side doesn't have the custom of touching the feet of the elders, otherwise my back would have gone for a toss! And oh, if I had a penny for every time I heard the phrase "Remember me? I came to your wedding..."

On day 2, I fared much better, and it really helped that everyone speaks excellent English, including the grandpas and grandmas! Wow. I did get tested on my knowledge of Tamil at times, and so I flaunted my extensive Tamil vocabulary, which comprises key phrases such as 'rombha pasikeradhu' (very hungry) and 'saapaadu venu' (need food).

I also felt a little 'senior' because I'd been the only non-Tamilian bahu in the family so far, but this time in the new generation of damaads and bahus, there was a Lithuanian and an American! Also, the fact that I'm kind of half a generation above the younger, unmarried cousins I was hanging out with meant that I could switch from 'cool bhabhi' to 'mami mode' and back in a blink, which was kinda fun. I am going to find a suitable app to track the family tree on both sides, complete with photographs. Any recommendations?

It's been really fun so far and I'm soaking it all in before we get back to Singapore (and full-steam work!) next week. And yes, for those of you following my travel blog, I will indeed be completing the Iceland series very soon!

Cheers,
Sayesha

A knack for a snack

So my mom's visiting, and that's a great thing because unlike my spouse, I'm not blessed with annual parental visits. There is no direct flight for my parents to get to Singapore, and it's a real pain to travel with stopovers, especially when my dad insists on staying back because apparently his kitchen garden only accepts water from his hands.

This time, however, we found a good workaround. First, Mom flew off to my in-laws' place, and after a couple of days gup-shupping with her samdhi-samdhan, she took a flight (a direct one, yeah!) here.

Every time she visits, our phone calls preceding the visits are rather dramatic. Sample the ones from this round. (I feel like I'm now having all the squabbles that as a teenager I never had with my parents.)

"No, Mom, I don't need any masala. We have Indian shops here. There is a minimart nearby. I get everything."

"Okay, I can't find Kashmiri mirch in the minimart, maybe get me a pack of that."

"No, no kurtis and salwar-kameezes for me. There are hardly any occasions to wear them. They will just sit and rot."

"No, no shirts for Viv either. We have just Kon-Marie-d and we don't... I'll explain what is KonMari when you get here."

"No, he will not at all 'bura maano' if you don't get anything. You know him."

"Nope. No dresses for Xena. She doesn't like dresses, and the dresses you get are all fancy and frilly and, err... scratchy."

"No, I don't need papad and achar. Just get your stuff and come."

"No, no mithai, please. No mithai at all. Okay? Okay wait, can you get 100 grams of kaju barfi?" (It's the only mithai I like.)

"Don't bring cash, okay? You'll lose in exchange."

But parents are parents. And moms are moms. One more level up.

So there was all the drama after she got here.

"What is this Patanjali nonsense? I didn't ask for Patanjali mirchi powder. I wanted Kashmiri mirch."

"No, I don't care if everyone in India is using Patanjali-everything. I wanted Kashmiri mirch."

"Two dresses for Xena?? I asked you not to! Good luck convincing her to wear them."

"Why so much papad? Oh my goodness, my freezer is bursting with mini papad packets because of Xena."

"This is not 100 grams of kaju barfi. This is more like 300 grams! Why????"

"I don't care if the mithaiwala will judge you for buying 100 grams of kaju barfi. I had specifically said I wanted 100 grams. I don't go to the gym every day to have a ton of kaju barfi sitting in my fridge!"

"Oh my goodness, why did you get so much cash??"

"What is this?? Oh my goodness, why did you get ribbon pakoda?? Where did you even get it??"

"You let mom-in-law send soooo many packets of ribbon pakoda?? Of course she will send it if you tell her you like it soooo much! Do you have any idea how addictive it is... all my gymming... yada yada yada..."

"What do you mean if I don't want them, you will take them back with you? You are the queen of binge-snacking. You're certainly NOT taking them."

Okay, so here's the truth. Whenever Viv and I watch stuff on Netflix, we snack a bit but we kind of (try to) control it. But there was this time that we finished an entire container of ribbon pakodas that mom-in-law had sent. (That stuff is the devil, I tell you, THE DEVIL!) After that, we swore that we shall not let any more ribbon pakoda or any other such addictive snacks from India cross into our threshold ever again.

Last night, Viv and I were watching 'Elementary' after Xena slept off. Suddenly he paused the show mid-way and walked off. I knew what that meant.

"Get the whole dabba then," I hollered after him.

"You're a girl after my own heart," he gleefully bounded back with the box of the kaju barfi in his hands.

We finished it. In less than 5 minutes I believe.

Sigh.

The boxes of ribbon pakodas are still sitting in the kitchen, unopened and under threat that Mom will take them back with her since we don't want them.

It's a real dilemma, I tell you.

First impression

So I've been trying to catch up with work and other things since we came back from India and now I've finally finished getting all the photos together to get down to some photo-blogging on India.

Everyone has been asking me if Xena liked India and what she did there. She did a lot for sure, but more importantly, what she did not do thankfully, was fall sick. We had been keeping our fingers, toes, elbows, knees and eyes crossed as we were not sure how she, born and brought up in squeaky clean Singapore, would cope with the chaos that is India. We made sure she got the typhoid and the flu vaccines before the trip, and during the trip, like an annoying NRI, I was even brushing her teeth with filtered water. But it was all totally worth it, because not only did she not fall sick at all (in fact, Viv and I were down every now and then, but not her!), she truly had a good time in every single city/town we visited.

We had planned our trip to coincide with both Viv's sister's and my sister's India trips, so we could have big family reunions. Besides, it was school holidays so a lot of our cousins' kids were vella at home. She was not at all overwhelmed by the barrage of the 3434955 relatives who had descended upon her, having never seen her, except only in photos. She especially got along with the 42987483757548375 cousins she encountered and it was amazing how within minutes, they were all friends and playing together.

She tried all sorts of food and to my relief, didn't hate everything. I even snuck in street food once! So much for my 'brushing-teeth-with-filtered-water' strategy. She didn't like it much, leaving me rather in shock. "How can you, MY child, not like pani puri?????"

She also had a chance to travel by various modes -- aeroplane, train, taxi, car, auto-rickshaw and even a boat! She truly did experience the various elements that make India what it is. Now and then she would be curious about why some places were so noisy and smelly and dusty but thankfully, she didn't show any disdain.

So here it is, a photo collage of what my little girl did on her first trip to India!

She met new 'paatis' (grandmas) other than her primary paati. This is Viv's aunt in Bangalore, patiently playing doctor-doctor with her. 

She met new 'thathas' (grandpas) other than her primary thatha. This is Viv's uncle, patiently playing, erm, candy crush, with her. She rightfully christened him 'Crush Candy thatha'. 

She tried on all kinds of food. Here, she is, having mixed feelings about 'thair sadam'...


...And here, with not-so-mixed feelings about dosa-sambar.

She discovered a swing in a playground. Surprisingly, swings are rather rare in Singapore playgrounds, so she plastered herself permanently to it. 

More swinging the next day. She couldn't get enough of it! I had to literally peel her off because we had to catch a flight!

Viv went go-karting with a friend, and Xena and I tagged along. She restricted herself to just trying on a helmet, which was incidentally about the same size as her. 

The Mini Stig

She, along with my sister's kids, took over my mom's puja room. They did everything. After the first day, mom didn't even have to tell them the various steps. Their favourite part was taking the agarbattis around the whole house before planting them near the basil plant outside. 

My dad set up a swing inside the house for the three kids. They had a blast on it. 

I relaxed my 'no nail polish' rule because it was a vacation, and she made me do a panda manicure for her. My sister's son howled and howled until his dad said ok to him getting the same thing. Phew!

Xena and my sister's son in identical clothes, and switched footwear

(Okay, so the identical clothes were my idea. I did a Christmas treasure hunt for the three kids, and the 'treasure' at the end of the hunt turned out to be identical clothes for all three. I know I know...)

My cousin gifted them a tent, which served as a great entertainment centre for the three of them, leaving my mom, my sister and me to do full gup-shup over chai. (Viv was, of course, busy watching cricket.)

She met my cousin's kid and suddenly got all big sisterly when she realised he's a year younger than her.

More cousins and more activities! Here she is, with Viv's cousin's kids. I'd taken some sticker books along, and they all got busy, trying to be the first to finish!

If you thought panda manicure was funny, wait till you see what mehendi she made me do on her hand! Yes, she asked for a helicopter and I had to google 'helicopter line art' to be able to make something that at least vaguely resembled a helicopter. Her cousin wanted an aeroplane. More googling ensued. Obviously. 

Yes, this is exactly what it looks like. My child is dancing on the streets in India. I asked her what was going on and she said, "Mama, I'm dancing in the sun so my mehendi can dry more quickly." Okay, then.

Manicure - check. Mehendi - check. Next stop - hairstyles. Both sides of the family are full of girls so I had a blast with all that hair. Xena's hair is easier to work with than mine, so I often use her as my guinea pig. The flower is from my dad's garden.

My fascination for these mosquito-annihilating racquets (or what my niece calls 'mosquito fryers') will never end. It was the first time Xena was encountering them. Here she is, putting on her 'formidable opponent' look for the mosquitoes. 

Here she is, enjoying the lovely blue skies, fresh air and cool weather in Yercaud, where we took a short family vacation. Upon the request of my dad-in-law, I'll be doing a post on Yercaud on my travel blog Hopscotch. 

Xena, looking a little terrified, during a boat ride in Yercaud

Xena and her cousin during an early morning hike, on which they absolutely insisted on accompanying us, even waking up early for it

Xena, mulling over the intricacies of life, during the hike

Walked around. A lot. That's me with her and Viv's cousin's kid. 

Her synchronised naps with her cousin left me very amused. They'd go to sleep and wake up at exactly the same time!

She also turned official family photographer on occasions. From left to right: sis-in-law, me, mom-in-law (yes, yes, it was a very pink day)

And this last shot is just a representative shot of all the laad, pyaar, dulaar and pampering she got from everyone in India. 

It's a sign

I'd written a post after my India trip in 2008, documenting some funny signs I saw along the way as I travelled. My favourite has to be a restaurant called Achanak restaurant, which true to its name, appeared rather suddenly during our drive from Delhi to Jaipur.

This time, it was a little crazy as we went on a whirlwind tour covering 5 cities in 20 days. I didn't have a chance to capture a lot of signs, but I did get these three amusing ones, which I wanted to share.

PS: I'll be posting some more photos soon, documenting the things Xena did on her very first trip to India!


To lazy to catalogue?


No ordinary filter coffee, this!



Height of sale -- the taller you are, the cheaper your clothes get!

India calling

Let me start this post with some stats. Of my life so far, I've spent half in India and half in Singapore. I'm in a fairly good position to somewhat understand, praise --- and bitch about --- both. My child, however, had not been to India at all. Because of her lung issues and our frequent midnight hospital runs in her early years, we'd been advised not to rush her first India trip. So we didn't. In fact, the last time we were in India was 2009.

But recently, we started feeling that it was time she saw the place where her parents were born and where a gazillion of her relatives live. People who had only seen her in photos and videos and on Skype were asking to meet her in person. My sister was flying down from the U.S. with her family. There really was no better time. So with much nervousness and excitement, we booked a trip to India and here we are, currently in Bangalore, which is our first stop of many.

I was very curious about the things she would say when she first experienced the complicated wonder that India is, and so I decided to tabulate all her India-related statements.

2 minutes after boarding the plane...
Xena - Mama, are we already in India?
Me - No baby, we are in the aeroplane.
Xena - First it will take off, then fly, then land, and then we will be in India?
Me - Yes.
Xena - Yayyyy we are going to India!

At Bangalore airport... (her first words in India)
Xena - India is cold! India is cold!

At the Bangalore airport toilet (which was mind-blowingly clean, btw)...
Xena - Mama, are you going to wash your hands with the tap water?
Me - Yes.
Xena - But we can't drink tap water in India, right?
Me - Right.
Xena - Because tap water in India has germs, right?
Me - Right.
Xena - Mama, please don't touch me after washing your hands. Otherwise the germs will be on me!

Just outside the airport...
Xena - Mama, I love this winter. I want this winter in Singapore.
Me (deep sigh) - Me too, baby, me too.

In the taxi from the airport...
Xena - Mama, are you sure this is India?
Me - Yes, I am.
Xena - But this doesn't look like India.
Me - You've never been to India. How do you know?
Xena - You're right, Mama. I think this is India.
Me - Good.
Xena - Mama, I love this country!

Stuck in traffic...
Xena - Mama, I smell smoke.
Me - *Long explanation on how air pollution occurs yada yada yada*
Xena - Now I smell poop.
Me - ....

At Viv's aunt's place...
Xena - What is this?
Me - It's a bucket.
Xena - I'm going to bathe with water in a bucket?
Me - Yes.
Xena - Why?
Me - Because that's how many people bathe in India. It also saves water, you know?
After bath...
Xena - Mama, I love it. Can I bathe with a bucket every day?

After a standing dinner at Food Street...
Xena - Mama, tomorrow can we eat in a place that has tables and chairs?

Last but not the least...
Xena - Mama... is that... a cow... on the road?!

Keep cool (and eat pani puri)

Last week, something very unusual happened in Singapore.

It got cold.

Seriously.

At night we had the fan speed at 1, and had a quilt on instead of the usual thin blanket. It had rained and rained and rained as it does during December and January, but never before in Singapore had I felt this cold. Or this excited. It seemed like - and not in the ominous Game of Thrones kind of way - winter was coming.

Well, of course it wasn't. The next day, the sun was up and shining merrily and then it rained again and then it was sunny again, and so on. Oh well.

Singapore may be my favourite country in the world to live in, but there are certain things about India that I do miss very much. The top three being family, winter and my all time favourite food in the whole wide world - roadside pani puri. And it just struck me that I do still get to enjoy the first two - when the family visits, or when I travel to a cold country (or when the Singapore weather goes bonkers like it did last week). But the last one... sigh... I highly doubt that roadside pani puri can or will ever be what it is, outside of India.

One of my favourite pani puri moments was back when I was a kid and my cousin (and arch nemesis in those days) challenged me to eat 50 pani puris. After a rather full lunch. It was just too easy. As he reluctantly handed me the 10-rupee note for the lost bet, I had a smashing punchline for him, "Pani puri ke liye jagah pet mein nahin, dil mein chahiye." (It doesn't translate well, but here it is anyway: You don't need space in your stomach for pani puri, you need space in your heart.) Honestly, I used to eat so much pani puri that my mom used to joke that I have pani puri ka pani in my veins instead of blood. At my wedding, I wanted the main course to be pani puri. It did feature in the menu, but most tragically my wedding sari weighed me down during the race to the stall and it all disappeared before I got there.

Sometimes I wonder when Xena's health will stabilise and I will take her to India and let her try pani puri.

Some day, we surely will. During winter.

And we will huddle by the roadside and have a pani puri eating competition. 

Atta-boy!

When you've lived 14 years in a country like Singapore, you get used to a certain (read alarmingly high) level of efficiency. It's so very different from the Indian way of doing things, aka the adjust maadi and chalta hai yaar way. I try not to be too cynical of the Indian way because it's great at times, but it does piss me off when Indian organisations operating here make no effort to catch up in terms of efficiency. It bugs me more because when non-Indians complain about such things, I feel like I should rise to the defense but I really have no case.

For some stuff in life, you have alternatives. But for others, you don't. Atta is top of the list. I don't have any source of atta around where I live and so we have to make that trip to Little India once in a few months to lug back atta, rajma, paneer and masalas. All that changed when I came across a website for ordering all the Indian groceries I wanted and more! I could not believe my eyes. Here, in front of me, was a seemingly functional website, where I could just click on the items I wanted and they would deliver it to my doorstop. Like real. (You will understand my amazement when I tell you that recently we ordered dinner using the website of a very popular Indian restaurant, and in spite of getting a confirmation SMS and an email, the food did not arrive. When we called, we were told that their records did not show any order. If these guys ran Pizza Hut or McDonalds, it would shut down within the hour.)

So with trembling fingers, and a heart that was beating fast with a mixture of hope and amazement, I placed the order (minimum $80 for free delivery). I received the confirmation email that the delivery would be made the next day, but from my experience with such emails, they don't mean anything in the Indian world. Add to the fact that the payment terms were cash or cheque upon delivery, I had little hope of the stuff making it to my doorstep. Ever.

The next morning, I received a call from them to tell me that they would deliver within the next hour or so.

[So the website was functional! 10 points!]

Frankly speaking, I'd had no hope, so I'd been out with Xena, lunching with a few friends when they called. I told them that I might not be home so fast and asked them if they could deliver a little later. They said their delivery zones and timings were fixed and asked me if it was safe to keep the stuff outside my door if I was not at home. I said ok, and only after hanging up did I realise that we had not discussed how I would pay them if they simply left the stuff outside my door.

[So they trusted the customer to make the payment later? Wow. 10 points!]

Anyway, I managed to be home by the time they said they'd deliver.

[They delivered on time! 10 points!]

After the delivery guy left, I checked the items and realised there was a mistake with the most critical item of all -- my precious atta!

[Wrong item delivered! Minus 20 points!]

So I called up their customer service hotline.

[No annoying automated service! No annoying music! A live human picked up! Within two rings! 40 points!]

"Hi, I'd ordered Pillsbury atta but some Aashirwad atta was delivered to me instead."

"You don't want the Aashirwad atta?"

[Duh! For annoying an already annoyed customer, minus 10 points!]

"No, I want my Pillsbury atta."

"You want your Pillsbury atta... Hmmm... Ok ma'am, we will make the replacement delivery on Thursday."

"Great, thanks!"

[No one came on Thursday. Minus 20 points.]

I called them on Friday. The hotline rerouted to some mobile number and the guy told me he was outside and would call me back within half an hour.

[Two hours. Nobody called. Minus 20 points.]

I was beginning to get really annoyed. The 5-kg bag of Aashirwad atta was lying on the kitchen counter, mocking me. Saying "Use me!"

I called the hotline again.

"Hi, this is about the atta exchange. You said you'd call me back in half an hour. It's been almost two hours and I didn't get any call."

There was a pause and then he spoke. His exact words were (I kid you not):

"Oh. Ma'am, I was just thinking about you."

[Ok fine, 10 points for the originality of the excuse and another 10 for making me laugh out loud.]

Mum's (the) word

So Mom was here for a visit, and on one of the days, Viv and I were supposed to call her when she was at home and tell her to take a bus and meet us at a place at a particular time. Now this was going to be a big event, because she had never really taken the bus by herself to a new place before. Viv had given her rough instructions, but had told her that we would call and tell her again.

When we called her, the phone was beeping (or like my niece Aishu says, "Mausi, your phone is crying. You need to charge it.") so Mom said she will change the batteries first in case we got cut off in the middle of our conversation. So she hung up and that's it -- we just couldn't get through to her after that. It looked like the phone was indeed out of charge, and though Viv had shown her where the charged batteries were, she was probably having a tough time opening the phone to change them. I don't blame her -- many a pretty and blameless fingernail of mine had perished in the attempts to change the batteries and so it was always Viv who changed them.

Viv and I stared at each other. Now what??

"Do you think she will panic?" He asked.

"No," I said, "I think she's already panicking!"

"Maybe she will just stay put at home?"

"But what if she leaves home based on your earlier instructions?? And then we can't find her??"

"Maybe we should go home now and pick her up?"

"What if she has already left home by the time we get there?"

"Maybe she will try to open the phone with a screwdriver or something?"

"Maybe she has already broken the phone?"

Ok. Ok. Stop panicking. Regroup. Regroup. Think. I told myself.

"Ah!" I said.

"What?" Viv asked.

"She will go to a neighbour."

"Are you sure??"

"Yep. She's an Indian Mom. They do that. I'm telling you. She will pakka go to a neighbour!"

I was confident, even though I had just had this conversation with her a few days ago.

Mom - So who lives here?
Me - Dunno.
Mom - And this side?
Me - Dunno.
Mom - And opposite?
Me - Dunno.
Mom - You don't know your neighbours??
Me - Um, no. It's different in Singapore. We don't really have the "Aunty, Mummy ne ek katori cheeni mangaayi hai." or "Bhabhiji, hum ek mahiney ke liye out of town ja rahe hain. Yeh rahi ghar ki chaabhiyan, zara nazar rakhiyega?"
Mom - So you have no interaction with your own neighbours??
Me - Yeeahh.. Not so much. If I went over and started talking to them about cheeni ki katori or chaabhiyan, I'd probably get dirty looks...

I don't know. Maybe it's me, maybe I've just become cynical, but the vibrant 'neighbour culture' in India, is truly found only in India. It's not like I have not made an effort, but things here are more formal and people don't 'haq se' impose themselves on their neighbours the way they do in India. And that's how I have adapted myself to live here.

Anyway, so back to my story and how it ended -- Mom called Viv about 15 minutes later. From some unknown number.

Not only had she found a willing-to-help neighbour, she had found a happy-to-help Indian neighbor.

Jai ho, Mom!

PR ke side effects

So Permanent Residents (PRs) in Singapore are in a great state of agitation over this piece of news. Here's an excerpt:

Government encourages more Singapore PRs to take up citizenship

SINGAPORE: The Singapore Government is moving to encourage more Permanent Residents in the country to take up citizenship.

Senior Minister Goh Chok Tong said some PRs will be approached to become citizens and if they don't do so, their status will not be renewed.

Immigration was one of many issues tackled during a dialogue session with over 200 residents from Marine Parade to gather feedback on the Prime Minister's National Day Rally.

SM Goh did not give details on getting PRs to take up citizenship.

"Moving forward, we are going to approach some of them to take up Singapore citizenship, if they don't then their PR will not be renewed. That's a better way.

"We now have quite a few PRs, 500,000 in Singapore, so hopefully maybe 50,000 can be selected to become Singapore citizens, the rest can be PRs, contributing to Singapore's economy," he said.

My friends and I have been having a hot debate on this over email, with some very varied views, and it struck me that I could open this up at the bar and see what other NRI bewdas feel about taking up citizenship of the countries they live in.

Would you take it if it's offered to you?

Daddy cool

Yesterday, I finally got to meet Varsha, a purani bewdi of the bar, and her adorable family. She asked me what's happening with this, and that's when I realised I should post an update for other interested bewdas too.

There have been no more thefts (*touchwood*) since my Dad's gallant Gandhigiri, and just yesterday, he successfully harvested a 9.5-kg (!!) pumpkin.

:)

Hum Hindustani

I have discovered a new Indian eatery near my office that serves the most awesome chapatis ever. Now there are plenty of Indian places around my office, but this particular place feels very strangely... Indian. 'Indian' Indian. If you know what I mean.

I haven't been able to tell if it is because the owners and waiters speak perfect Hindi or that they play Lata Mangeshkar oldies or what. They have chairs outside where most people sit, but I usually sit inside because that's where the music is the clearest, and the owner sits there so I can chat with her if I am eating by myself. The problem for the waiters is that something they forget that I sit inside and can hear all that they talk about.

Today, as usual, I was sitting inside having my lunch, when the waiter walked in and passed some money to the owner. She asked, "Kaun sa table?" Before he had seen me, he had blurted out, "Woh baahar jo buddhi baithi hai..." and then suddenly spotting me, turned red and said, "Matlab woh baahar jo lady..."

Yup, distinctively Indian.

Story in pictures

So I was going through my 'bachpan box' when I came across it. Bound together and covered with what was obviously an advertisement from the 80s was one of my Amar Chitra Katha collections. It even had a label on it and written in possibly the world's worst handwriting was this.

NAME: Cuckoo (Dad calls me that. Quite apt, eh?)
STD: K.G. 1
SCHOOL/COLLEGE: St. Anne's Convent School
ROLL NO: 22

Kindergarten 1. That's like what... 1984? Wow. A quarter of a century has passed by, and yet when I flipped it open and started reading, I felt the same sense of wonder and fascination that I'm sure all of you who had the good fortune to read these comic books would be familiar with.

Birbal the wise. Bimbisara. Jayaprakash Narayan. Paurava and Alexander. Ahilyabai Holkar. Sambhaji son of Shivaji. Each priced at Rs. 2.50 (less than 10 cents). My sister and I had zillions of these books. Dad had got them bound into books that had about about 10 stories each. Going by how tattered the one I found was, I can only imagine the number of times I must have read it.

The artwork was simple, unlike the comic books of today, and the English was perfect, unlike the atrocious Chacha Chaudhry books they released in English, which were riddled with countless grammatical errors. The stories, mainly from history and mythology, were simply told, and yet captured the imagination like no textbook ever could.

Dad actually let me bring one back to Singapore. I'm totally having a blast swimming in nostalgia and refreshing my knowledge of mythology and history.

How great would it be if they did away with all the boring history textbooks and just had them Amar Chitra Katha style?

It's in the air

We had an overnight stopover at Kolkata during our recent India trip. Here are some airport and airplane snapshots:

• The Hindi signboard listing the items prohibited as cabin baggage included 'gada' (mace)!!! LOL! The gada would be checked in and returned to the passenger at the destination. I was reminded of the Mahabharata scene from Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron.
  
  
• The signboard listing the people exempt from security checks (e.g. Prime Minister, President, Dalai Lama, etc.) has Robert Vadra's name at the end. Hmmm...
  
  
• The Bengali announcements in the plane are too cute. The "ladies and gentlemen" part starts with "Bhodro mohila..." I don't think I have ever been called a bhodro mohila before! Mogambo khush hua.
  
  
• Another one. "Doya kori seat belt..." puts visions of the poor cabin crew going down on their knees and literally begging the passengers, "Take pity on us and put on your seat belts."
  
  
• There was a lady who was directing JetLite passengers to wherever they were supposed to go. At first I thought she was saying, "Jet-lagged passengers this way please." I started imagining the tired passengers being led to a huge room with comfortable beds and satin sheets.
  
  
• I cannot believe the two chaps in the domestic flight who were trying to flirt with the air hostess. If I had been in her place, I'd have rolled up the airlines magazine and thwacked the hell out of them.
  
  
• There was a large beautiful butterfly inside the airport. I was looking at it in amazement when -- believe it or not -- a cat walked past! Yes, a cat! Inside the airport. A clean one though. Walking around like it owned the place.

I suppose what they say is really true -- it happens only in India!

Double role

So I am walking towards my bus-stop after work when this dude in pointy boots, standing outside this line of eating places, looks me up and down and says in the most annoying desi-road-romeo manner, "Helllllooooobeautiful...!"

Now this kind of thing just doesn't happen here so for a brief moment I stop in my tracks, very very confused. The radio station located in my head is playing "It happens only in India!" (including the 'tadang-tang' music that follows right after). And just when I am contemplating whether to ignore him or give him a dirty look (I've been in Singapore so long I have forgotten how to deal with these morons), he suddenly remembers that he's actually a waiter and is not supposed to do this to potential customers. His facial expression instantly changes, and he suddenly goes all polite and earnest on me, as if it's the first time he's speaking to me.

"Hi ma'am, set dinner for you?"

What the..?! :/

Prince... Charming!

I didn't have the chance to catch India's Got Talent on TV but Youtube ki jai ho, I came across the winning final act -- Dashavtara (the ten avtaras of Vishnu). Prince Dance Group, made up of 26 daily wage labourers, have created something so beautiful, your heart will ache for reasons you won't know.

"Is pachaas laakh ki hum logon ko chaah nahin hai, balki iski sakht zaroorat hai."

("We don't desire the 50-lakh prize. We desperately need it.")





Watch their semi-final performance here -- it's not every day that you see Shekhar Kapoor crying so bad he can hardly speak.
(Okay I admit I too shed ganga-jamuna bigtime.)