Sunday, 3 May 2009

The Beanstalk

Sometimes, I don't know what happens to me. I have gone to the same places every single day this week, always forgetting one small task, and having to go back there, despite the sun being something really fierce. And all the while, when I step in an auto or climb behind the wheel, all I can think of is, dammit, here goes my carbon footprint. Seriously.

Had to live without drinking water yesterday. As in, I forgot to fill extra bottles due to pre-occupations with various matters, before they shut the water off for some maintenance work. And as always happens, the guys who came to shampoo the couch wanted water to drink, the monster drank gallons, I swigged a fair bit too, and at the end of the day I had BUY water for the cooking. The minute the cook left, knowing how these things work, I tried the taps, and, of course...

Autos have been fun by the way. I miss my auto days. Just love talking to the drivers. Some of them are surly, some have oiled hair, some look vaguely familiar (making me wonder about moonlighting activities), some are fantastically philosophical, and yes, Mumbai auto drivers are the best since they don't randomly charge you extra. Have I told about the one that asked me how old I am, and I said thees say do kam (which is what I was then), and he said Twenty Eight bolo madam. Or the one that was 14 years old and did not know the way to the airport and assured me he had a license (how?) anyway. Or the one that talked about his, as far as I could tell, male problems, and drove me through the fierce rain wiping his tears and telling me all the while that his wife was so good to still be with him. Heck, even the one that left me, the monster, and our suitcases in the wrong terminal and we had to walk across, dragging them. And the one who could not see my glasses on the road and I had to watch and wince as a Meru Cab drove over them (how did I trust him to drive a vehicle after that display of near-blindness? Well, welcome to India). I will miss you guys.

In Mothercare yesterday for a gift voucher, auto waiting outside (nice guy), the little boy was staring us down. Whats up kid. I said. Since I have stopped being disgruntled, I have also re-discovered that I like kids and have an easy way with them.
I am four.
Good for you, wow.
How old is she?
Well, ask her yourself, won't you?
She might be five, but I am still bigger than her.
(he was definitely taller than her, heck, about my height, give or take. so that's great that a kid can say that, and surely they always say it, and he was really cute in a robust kind of way, so I just smiled).
Mother comes rushing up. HEY YOU MIGHT BE TALLER BUT YOU ARE DEFINITELY NOT BIGGER she booms from her immense height. I wanted to crack jokes about which of US was bigger, older, smarter. But hey, my auto was outside, and my little, bad-mouthed Zen (also standing no chance of being bigger than anything in the world), has sprouted wings and gone, to my sister.


wordjunkie said...

Have forgotten my brilliant comment after seeing that cryptic link - Zed's dead Baby. Elaborate, pliz.

kbpm said...

AAh so people do READ that part!! Just felt like saying it. You know, from Pulp Fiction. Bruce Willis on Zed's bike.

kbpm said...

& i am not sure if he is talking about Zed's dead baby or that Zed himself is dead. He mumbles big time, that Bruce Willis.

Perakath said...

Hey ho! I acted Bruce Willis's part in a theater adaption of Pulp Fiction a couple of years ago. Shit play, but I thought it so cool to say I was playing Bruce Willis! He says: "Zed's dead, baby"-- Zed is dead. Not the dead baby belonging to Z. Reminds me of Good Will Hunting, this.

Do they have Mothercare in Bombay now?

kbpm said...

Oooh Bruce Willis. Did you use a real bike? Wait. Did someone say Matt Damon. Ok, must really search for him this time in the infinite corridor.
(of course they have Mothercare in Bombay, didn't they always?)

Perakath said...

Naw-- actually the entire Zed storyline was cut from the adaptation. So no motorbike. And they cut out my sex scene as well! :'(

I did get to wear boxing gloves and a sleeveless vest, though.

Dunno; I thought Mothercare was a foreign brand, and that you had gone to the States at any rate!

Perakath said...

Oh-- the other major change to the play was that Samuel L Jackson's character spoke a mixture of Hindustani and English!

"English, maadhar****, do you speak it?"

kbpm said...

that bit about how he doesn't eat pork because the pig is a ^&%*%(% filthy animal? hmm...
i saw the movie at a time when it made a lot of sense and i remember a lot of the scenes and dialogues (and songs). would have loved to see a desi, play adaptation. oh well.
(Am still here, and wondering whether to travel abroad or not, considering, above).

Serious Lounger said...

ah, the brat thinks he is bigger than everyone, while the seal pup is learning the fine art of throwing tantrums and screaming at the top of his voice for everything.. thank god, we are both as if not more stubborn than him :D :P..

kbpm said...

Tantrums are good. They will put hair on your chest.

choxbox said...

yes mumbai autowallahs are interesting chaps. as are the cabbies. actually i like all things mumbai.

and yay to the un-disgruntling of kenny. what worked? btw our vilaayat trip is off for now thanks to the silly swine flu. so am in town as far as i can see. pop over some time. we can still do that summer camp thing even if a short one.

Anonymous said...

I cannot remember anything from your post after reading the comments. This is because,I am trying to recall who was Zed in the movie.

kbpm said...

Zeds dead, baby, Zeds dead.