The necessity of heartbreak

Heartbreak is a curious thing.   It’s quite like childbirth; the size and shape of it unknowable until it happens, your experience uniquely your own.   The dull pain of it never quite gone, thrumming just below the surface.  The joy experienced before exponentially greater than any regret at the unending sorrow of the aftermath.



Head Cold

It’s just a cold, sure.  But man it feels awful.  My nose is raw, the raspy cough irritating though I’ve been drinking hot tea 24/7 to combat that.  No one nods at you in sympathy, it is just a cold despite feeling like the incuubus for the plague.

But Mom?  Mom knows.  Mom will nod.  Mom will rest her dimuintive hand on your forhead and afford you an,

“yeah, feels like a slight fever”, giving you the validation you need for laying about and waiting for death to take you.  Mom will invite you over and try to push her odious favorite curative, a TURMERIC LATTE.  And you will make the same old wretching noises while she laughs and offers you the lunch you came for,  kitchdi (a rice and dal porridge).   Invariably you will feel better, probably more because someone saw and pitied than anything else.   And it will feel so good.

I live in the condo next door to my mother and I love it. The kids get to be spoiled behind closed doors.  She babies all of us just enough and is able to beat a hasty retreat when we become too much for her to take.  Her steadfast insistence on having family dinners together have turned evenings of grabbing something quickly into a true sit down family time.  Sure we argue most of the time. Last night as my son tried to explain the life cycle of stars, as the rest of us cackled and interrupted him.  The zingers of the evening,

from my daughter “We are the most annoying family”

and right before any artifice of conversation completely collapsed into fits of giggles,

from my mother,

“I thought all the stars go to California”.




There’s only one line!

Bombay things (possibly India things) that are on my mind right now.

  • Papayas with no seeds! Seriously, what’s with the seedless papayas Bombay?  Freaky!
  • What’s with the walking into heavy traffic and putting your hand up, like you’re a traffic cop, so you can stop traffic and cross?  What’s up with that actually WORKING?
  • How is star anise SO freaking expensive?
  • What’s with the skinny jeans in all this heat?
  • Morphing into a quasi bargain hunter who will traipse into the next town to find a cheaper kilo of cucumbers.

So, as of right now, we have a completely furnished kitchen.  Our building shockingly lacks a gas line and so we had to go it the old red cylinder route.  We decided on a three burner stove top, got a fridge, washer and dryer.   That covers our food and clothes, and of course, we now have the most important thing, the cable hooked up.  I’ve been watching almost old Hindi movies and have been in a frenzied downloading streak.  Thanks Pavani! Papuyaar has been a life saver!

I had traveled to Vile Parle (quite close to where we live) and ordered curtains for our living room and bedroom.  Unfortunately, what will be now referred by me henceforth as the great curtain tragedy of 2012, I ordered them too short.  I eyeballed it and of course, was way off.  Nitin didn’t wig out and so we’re going to add some contrasting color fabric and pretend our original intention was to have color blocked curtains.  That covers two rooms….the other two, we can wait on.  Our furniture is finally going to arrive in Bombay tomorrow! BUT, all the unloading, blah blah, customs, blah blah blah will take two more weeks.  I hope that we do get our stuff the second week of August as promised.  Otherwise I am going to crawl into the little storage space in the guest room and rock myself back and forth.  As nice as this place is, I really miss my stuff and am growing tired of looking constantly like a behenji with my salwar kameez uniform.

Speaking of which, I finally found the harem pants I have been searching for.  They are available in abundant supply in department stores and in little mom and pop establishments.  I’m bored to tears of going to the malls.  This is especially true on the weekends.   I suppose during the unpredictable rainy season,   the malls are a good refuge, I just can’t stand the crowds.  Again, this is probably the wrongest city to be in if you can’t abide crowds.  So, ok, it’s not crowds I can’t stand, it’s confined crowds.   Also, buying stuff is such a challenge.  I decided to buy two pairs of those harem pants that I’ve been coveting and went and stood in line.  I was super happy that the line was only two people in.   I thought I would be done quickly.  After defending my spot by telling other’s who tried to cut in line that there was only one freaking line, and after standing for nearly half an hour, I realized why the line was moving so slowly.  The cashier had to walk every credit card transaction to another FAR corner of the store to run it.  EVERY time.   Why?  Why? I don’t understand?