Just a little than a year ago, I met my beloved dearest. Ever since, the 'I' has become 'we'. My world turned upside down, as I started a roller-coaster ride with him. It took him one day, and me two, to decide to live the rest of our lives with each other. Pretty quick for a self-confessed romantic atheist. (Whatever happened to that proud exclamation!)
In a month we were engaged. And in the ensuing 4 months, married. From the night he took me out to dinner until now... approximately 270 dinners we might have had. The first evening he said he'd have an Ice Tea. Second one, Ice Tea. Third one, Ice Tea and so on and so forth. The only other drink that he considered was Lemon Ice Tea or may be Peach Ice Tea. It didnt take me too long to know the guy was hooked on to Ice Tea, and that's something the cooking-apprehensive lass should learn. And she did.
Since then making Ice Tea has become pretty much a routine. Until now my only connection with tea, was the glorious tea gardens where I spent a huge chunk of summer holidays at my Aunt's and Uncle's. ( Another post on that has long been due.)
I brew tea this afternoon for the first time, the authentic way. As against the practice of dipping in the tea bag ( My Uncle, an expert in this field, says, tea bags are made from the worst quality of tea). I realised this would definitely give away the classic aroma ( We watched Bridges of Madison County over dinner last evening and Meryl Streep is serving Ice Tea from this huge jar, needless to say, the man's eyes light up :) ).
Some straberries were lying idle in the refrigerator so the lass went over and crushed a few of those and stirred them in with the fresh brew. The aroma of the crushed strawberries was simple exotic- earthy, divine and indulging to say the least. It tasted better with the Ice Tea. (Its another detail that Mr. hates strawberries.)
The man has been busy all day today. A few minutes ago (around 6.30 pm) I send him a mail saying I was sipping strawberry Ice Tea as I was working on a project. And he exclaims... 'Without Me!?'
So I told him, a pot was waiting for him. And Quesadillas for dinner, he boards his Fiesta and says, am going to come home and work. I say yes. In return for a game of basketball.
I've been munching on this thought for quite sometime- On what parameter, is it justified that Slumdog millionaire portrays the real India?
I would wish for some statistical data. What percentage of Indian's live in the slums? Then we can conclude with the above statement.
I would not defy this so-called acclamation if it was said that this is also an aspect to multifaceted India. I think its absolute, and nothing really is absolute. And its not complacence that makes me defy that statement. There are just too many facets to India to narrow it down to slum-children from Dharavi in the streets of Mumbai.
Though, even to me an overall perspective of India is very gloomy, its too overriding a statement that Slumdog Millionaire portrays the real India.
Its been three days since, ants have been trying to make their way inside our new home. As I was fast-pacedly jotting out thoughts, teary-eyed for some reason... I saw a string of black wiggly creatures decidedly making their way in, through my bleary-eyed vision. And then all was forgotton, until getting them out was done.
I didnt want to smash and spank them dead. And talking didnt help. I tried putting turmeric, that seemed to help, but little.
And this, in the room least used.
I asked my maid this morning, in my very fluent hindi :), 'yeh yahan kyu aaya? yahan tho kuch khaane keliye bhi nahin. AC ka hole se aaraha hain.'
She kept looking, looking, and she bursts into a laughter and says in her bengali hindi 'baaran manzil tak chala aaya, dekhno ko itna chhota, itna chala aaya.'
Though I cannot reproduce what she said here with its twang of humour, I think her thought silently struck me with its plainness.