I never do blog much when I'm on holiday, do I? But never mind. I'm whisking through Bombay for all of two days (I'm a little globetrotter, well, countrytrotter at any rate) and already have nice hectic weekend plans. Ahhhhhh, I'm going to be so BORED when this month is over and I have to go back to domesticity.
The train back was better than the train there (the train THERE had a) a snoring man who I had to POKE to get to turn over and he still kept snoring and I wanted to smother him b) MANY noisy children--seriously, parents? This is not cute. and c) one little girl who was sitting opposite me and asked me several times why I was reading so much. Gah) The train back had only one baby (not noisy, rather sweet actually) and two hell-monster kids who yelled till what felt like four am--train time being five hours ahead. And after being late with my period in Delhi (I was only comforted with the fact that I could not possibly be pregnant unless it was the immaculate conception or something, which was also unlikely coz I'm an atheist) I got it in one ENORMOUS torrent last night, trying to sleep in my very uncomfortable berth, my laptop bag tucked for safety underneath my pillow. I even woke up out of a sound sleep because I felt it descend. I guess my ovaries were waiting for me to be back on Maharastrian soil. Anyhoo, that meant unpacking my suitcase and pulling out a change of clothes and trying not to look embarrassed and having to manage on minimal sleep and a very chatty cabbie on my way home. Why do people keep trying to talk to me when really all I want is to have minimal human contact when I'm commuting? It's true--if I can't pick the company, I don't want ANY company. Hmph.
tc, my little Motu Singh, is delighted to have me back. Oh who am I kidding? I don't think he cares really. He rubbed himself against my legs for a bit and then went off to stare out of the window despite me going, "Hi baby! Mummy's home! Did you miss me? I missed you!" I even picked him up and squeezed him just for looking so adorable (and so FAT, that makes two of us, I guess, because I look like someone's inflated me) but he rolled his eyes at me and went away to lick himself furiously. I like to think I'm more than just a giant pair of legs that feeds him, but you know, you can't tell. (Awww.. and just as I wrote that, I heard a little miaow and tc came in my room to say hello. My Turqinder. I'm so full of sappy parenting feelings right now.)
Delhi this time was mainly house parties, which I love, including one mini-thing at my house. Bani and Maya had a wine and cheese thing at their (yes, yes, VERY CLEAN BRAND NEW ABSOBLOODYLUTELY SPOTLESS) house (they have a thing for housework right now, in case you can't tell) which concluded with butter chicken. And because I was so reminded of Leela, I had to call her and we had a lovely long chat. Only I mistook Camembert for Emmental, so we finished all the Camembert and Bani was like, "Dude! Emmental! Just for you!" and so I had to eat it all. by. myself. No wonder I'm fat.
Oh, and such fabulous shopping! I did Sarojini Nagar twice and I must tell you about all my clothes. (But I'll make it easy to skip by adding asterisks at the beginning and end of the shopping descriptors, THAT'S how much I love you.)
*****BEGIN CLOTHES DESCRIPTION**********************
One sleeveless pink tunic thing with pockets and button straps. (Ooh and I saw the IDENTICAL tunic at Pepe for like LOTS of money and I was all hah!)
One very pretty brown fitted dress with spaghetti straps and a flary skirt that reaches my knees. It's more khaki brown than BROWN brown and it has these strings you tie up at the neckline and I wear it with a red tie-die dupatta for a very Spanish effect. Teamed with...
.. silver kolhapuris, where the sole is so thin that it gets bent out of shape pretty soon. But I had a pedicure to match them.
A balloon skirt dress with a large sash and stars all over it, soooooooo pretty.
A blue belted tunic, a little bit too large for me, but very nice thin material so I won't die of the sweat.
New Converse sneakers in khaki which I have been coveting.
A long yellow t-shirt also of this incredibly thin, incredibly clingy cotton, the kind that looks like it'll fall apart if you look at it roughly with a picture of a cat driving a car on it and it says Le Chat Noir. See, see, why I bought it?
A clingy white top with lots of cleavage and the kind of material designed to show even a mole on your stomach.
A dotted black and white tunic, with tiny cap sleeves and a sweet little belt.
Another yellow top, but this time made of cheesecloth, with smocking and peasant girl sleeves.
A black and white striped shirt, also slightly large for me, but looks good with jeans on.
And, not from Sarojini, but Pepe Jeans, I bought another long-sleeved shirt, with frayed edges and a paisley design.
K, I'm done.
I met K again, which was nice and after a VERY long time too. We're kinda, sorta, friends now, which is lovely. No lingering looks, no snide remarks, just everything on the table. I'm happy, he's happy and I guess we wish each other well and all that. There were some pockets of weirdness, but I don't think those are EVER going to go away, even if we're both married happily and have five hundred children. But we hung out like civilised adults even though I kept getting surprised looks from mutual friends. ("Uh.. you guys are hanging out now?" "So, you and K are like friends again?" To which I said, "Phssssssssh. Whatever. The past is the past.") Oh, and also I changed outfits a hundred million times each time there was a meeting. Yeah. Most mature.
Ya know, back in the day, when my move to Bombay was only six months old, I faced a classic immigrant problem. Bombay wasn't yet my home and Delhi had ceased to be my home. And now, I looked out from the Rajdhani at Delhi AND at Bombay and said happily to myself, "Home!" Isn't that awesome?