Oh Glory of Glories! It's summertime again. And I had to go meet a lady, two bloody hours away, at 1 pm. Right about the time when the Sun is at its highest. I considered blowing off the appointment (again), but then I figured, what has to be, has to be. Suck it up, brave the sun, and do it.
I tried, rather unsuccessfully, to convince my dearest friends to accompany me on the journey. Traitors. None of them wanted to leave the comfort of an air conditioned room to help a friend in need...They shall pay. What if I had to go to Mordor to destroy a ring?
On the way to my "meeting", I was wondering, was I always this snooty? Isn't summer back home much worse? I have travelled and spent time outdoors in worse conditions. Heh, drawbacks of working in an air conditioned environment.
I have never been able to understand the autowallah. First, they fight the government to up the prices. They claim they can't ply with the metered rates, because the rates are too low. Then, when the government complies, they still refuse to use the meter. It's always, "Madam, one-way street" or "Madam, U-turn too far off" or "Madam, you look like you can bullied" or "Madam, you need my services more than I need your money. So shut up and pay." And then, after half an hour of haggling over an atrocious price, they finally agree to take you to your destination. Only, somehow, they ALWAYS drop you at least 1 km away from the agreed destination. "It's right here Madam, just cross the road, take a right, then a left, then go straight, and then the last left on your right". I don't get it. Why did I just pay this guy? To give me directions? For the amount they charge, they should ideally be lifting me up and dropping me inside!! Not growling at me and telling me to poo off.
So, anyway, meeting done. There was no food involved, by the way. (Who invites you at 1 and doesn't give you food! I think this should be illegal in all the nations of the world.) I was now left to fend for myself. The food hunt is usually my favorite part about being out by myself. Some people find it horrifying that I would go to a restaurant and eat all alone. They feel I am suffering from some acute form of depression and that I am capable of jumping off the top of a roof this very instant. To them I say, chill. I am hungry. And alone at the moment. I could die of hunger, not of loneliness. I am beginning to realize that I make too much use of the comma in my sentences. They shall be avoided in the near future. Hope you don't mind.
I began my hunt for the perfect lunching experience. I crossed a nice looking place called BFC. It looked so like the KFC, I was tempted to go in and give their Arabic food a shot. I decided against it and settled for a Bengali mess. As I walked in a little apprehensively, the man at the door looked at me and said, "Kya chahiye didi?" Aila! Hindi bola! All apprehensions left me, and I walked in and ordered a fish meal. I suppose the fish was what a Bengali would have for lunch on a daily basis. Nothing that drove me wild. But ohhhhh...the bhaja. Potatoes, brinjal and lady finger cooked in a wonderful paste of mustard. Heaven..I have a newly developed fondness for mustard. I often wonder why we don't use mustard as a spice in Punjabi cooking. It takes a meal to a whole new level. The pungency! (Do note, the Punjabis use the leaf of the mustard plant to make saag. A beauty in it's own right.)
Fully fed, it's time to return home. I walk to the main road and realize that I would need to cross the road in order to get to the bus stop.Except that this was a major road, with no traffic lights and heavy traffic. I thought I could do it. I waited for almost half an hour. I was beginning to contemplate hiring another auto to take a u-turn and drop me off to the other side. I wished my knight in shining armor would come to my rescue, He would hold my hand and say, Come my love, I shall take you across. And all the traffic would come to a standstill. And I would walk across with my head held high. Alas! I am not a Disney Princess. I think after the first twenty minutes, the people in the shop behind me had begun to place bets on how much longer I'd be standing there. I kept wondering why I was the only one trying to get across to the other side. Did everyone happen to get down at the same side of the road they wanted to be on? And then it hit me. Subways. What a dastardly thing to not remember! Numb skull. Of course there has to be a subway. It's a bus stop in the middle of a very crowded road! I found myself chuckling at my idiocy. I take the subway, get onto a bus, and return home, dying for a nice cold shower.
After I am showered and watered, as I lay down to mend my dehydrated soul, I can't help but think, thank god we still have Sunday.
Until later,
Naina!
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