Another repost, as I have been treacherously blogging elsewhere for some time...
Hyderabad, 2007
I am attempting to upload something to my work website for umpteenth time, when electricity goes out again. I should have known. It's 4pm, it happens at around that time every day. Everything you're working on is guzzled by the innards of the computer, never to be released again. I try again after it comes back, everything takes forever, it's like swimming in molasses. Not that there's anything wrong with swimming in molasses if that's what you like. By 8pm I give up, I am also hungry as hell, and there's not much to be had in the dorm cafeteria- I should have come earlier. Florina talks me into going out to eat. Fine. Yay even.
We set out, walking against traffic on a dusty road. Why no sidewalks? Oh, that's because this is supposed to be a highway, she enlightened me. Dust is in my eyes and nose. If I mastered anything during my four stays in
Anyway, we pass a Muslim wedding, where we don't go, because Florina explains to me that I could only give well wishes to the bride. The groom is kept separate. They will meet tonight. In the bedroom. For the first time. Oy vey. I remind myself to thank heavens for my good fortunes every day.
We get to the "hotel" – which is a shack on the side of a road. That's what they're called. Tonight they have biryani or roti with curry chicken and/or chicken tandoori. So easy. No need to crack one's brain with what to pick from the menu. The place is dimly lit, metal tables have been wiped, that's obvious. What were they wiped with though is not. I don't wanna know. Two girls out alone, one of them white as a wall - we call attention of all the men around. No women anywhere in sight. And I see far. Food arrives on metal plates covered with newspapers. Rajeshwari Jewelry House is the best around, it announces. Talking to Florina I notice a decent sized cockroach on the wall behind her. I wish I didn't. Soon enough a small one comes to greet our roti on the table. Waah. My street-smart and worldly composure is tatam, as we Slovaks say (literally translated as "thethere" or "gogone". Don't ask). I cannot talk or listen, I see and imagine them everywhere. Turns out that what I first perceived as patterns on the walls were all cockroaches. Within seconds everything on me itches and chicken tastes fuzzy as if I had million hairy cockroach legs in my mouth. Collecting last bits of dignity I employ all my remaining concentration on maintaining some sort of a sane facial expression. I'm aiming hard to appear casual and in good spirits, but it's a real stretch. I pull out stories about touring Gypsy villages in
After the lovely meal we get a sweet paan– beetle nut and coconut and cherry and whatnot wrapped in a beetle leaf. I never liked them too much, but I'll take anything to keep my mind busy. We walk home, most casually of course. After I say goodnight to Florina I high-tail it to my room, get two buckets that are there and go fetch warm water (there's only cold in the faucets and the weather is cold now. Well, cold for a cold shower that is) and give myself a good scrub. That's the kind of a heroine I am. Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled. (Many, actually. And there are sirens. What the BLEEP is going on?! O`1h well, time to go to bed.)
