Short cuts

The American sense of cleanliness does not exist here. I understand that’s a generalisation, because Americans wear their shoes in the house and walk around the same areas barefoot, and so do the members of my host family.

The after-rain breeze that brushes my cheek. The calls of birds before and after the day. The incessant monsoon rain. The prickly green pine-like woody plants. The Colgate ads featuring bespectacled men in white lab coats.
Much is familiar here.

I finally said no to my host mother and I hope she’s not angry with me. I’m putting her curt sentences down to the language barrier.

Arun and I discovered Star Movies in English. He reads out stars’ names as they appear on the screen.

Every day I cross the road to my office and put my life in peril. Pedestrians, rickshaws, cars and bicycles fight for the road, doing anything that serves their purpose. Today a car swerved past me and onto the pavement (which was the same level as the road, only demarcated by an abundance of rubbish) to make a U-turn and exit into an alleyway. Two cyclists pedalled alongside each other, touching hands and slowing down the car behind it. Despite this, drivers are very good at avoiding pedestrians, and there is some sort of system. Cars honk whenever they reach an intersection, as if they were saying “hello” to anyone who might be there. When travellers reach a roundabout; they navigate it clockwise.
The semblance of chaos, however, is refreshing to me.

Criteria to be a Bollywood/Indian TV star:
- Must be able cry on demand.
- Must look good drenched in rain.
- Must be able to look very stressed for long periods of time.