Yes, that's what we had. Some funny things Naya said in that meal alone:
"Mommy, you took my plate. Say sorry to the plate."
When the garbage woman came in, Naya looks at her and said, "Balti-walli-auntie!"
That's the bathroom lady and what Naya mistakenly called her literally translates into "Bearer of Bucket Auntie"
We told you, she is a cross between Albert Einstein and Russell Peters.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
City of Gins -- and hot dogs
We had hot dogs for dinner tonight so finally the vats of BBQ sauce from Costco came in handy. This meal was thanks to Naya's demand that she wanted "hot dogs and ice cream." So we had the franks, rajma-chavel -- and apples for dessert. All Indian-American, I think...
Also last night we saw an outdoor, experiential, environmental play based on Dalrymple's book "City of Djinns." I generally liked it but was impacted both as a fireng and an Indian, and understanding of what both sides were getting it. Tom ALter, who always plays the British villain in Bollywood, was very good and the band, perched atop the dome of the mahal, was really transcending, in terms of time and place and mood... This is a different Delhi that Dalrymple's circa 1989 but a lot of his displacement and change and hang-ups of the city are the same. Although I jokingly said to Nitin that modern Delhi, circa post-liberalization 2007 in the cliched New India, was more like a City of Gin...
A Sufi mystic from City of Djinns
Tom Alter and Zohra Segal in City of Djinns
Also last night we saw an outdoor, experiential, environmental play based on Dalrymple's book "City of Djinns." I generally liked it but was impacted both as a fireng and an Indian, and understanding of what both sides were getting it. Tom ALter, who always plays the British villain in Bollywood, was very good and the band, perched atop the dome of the mahal, was really transcending, in terms of time and place and mood... This is a different Delhi that Dalrymple's circa 1989 but a lot of his displacement and change and hang-ups of the city are the same. Although I jokingly said to Nitin that modern Delhi, circa post-liberalization 2007 in the cliched New India, was more like a City of Gin...
A Sufi mystic from City of Djinns
Tom Alter and Zohra Segal in City of Djinns
Monday, April 9, 2007
We're back...
So we launched and that's the only way I can explain our lapse in blogging... Pics to come, Nit promises...
So how odd is it to say I'm lonely in a country of 1 billion? But it's true. Life here seems defined by work and family -- and while I've always valued both, a whole lot more has always kept me busy. Lately on the nights Nitty is out deejaying or drumming or art-show hopping, I find myself home around 9 pm and wondering if I should call someone. But who? New Delhi probably has hundreds of women named Sumathi Reddy but I haven't found my own personal version yet... I think we're definitely still trying to find our groove on that front...
Also Naya has grown into a funny thing and true to her Chinese zodiac of a monkey. She knows the whole alphabet and her numbers (although every now and then she sees 8 and yells out "B!!") and dances and sings and is adept at Hindi and a concoction of English, Assamese and Hindi. Example: Mujhe alopmaan pani chahi ye please. When you ask her who her best friends are, she says very dutifully -- Mitra-Mommy, Nitin-Papa and Felicia. We think she is pure genius and funnier than Jerry Seinfeld and Russell Peters combined.
In addition to asking us to read a whole pile of books -- all the time -- she also has gotten into made-up stories. Tonight she asked for one about "Ata Toko." I felt bad because I think her memory of them -- her maternal grandparents -- is definitely fading; she looks through her newborn album and sees them and also remembers certain gifts they gave but her connections seem more material and rooted in photos than I intended. Through migration, I've inflicted the same pain of separation on her that Nitin and I went through. Inheritance of loss, indeed.
So how odd is it to say I'm lonely in a country of 1 billion? But it's true. Life here seems defined by work and family -- and while I've always valued both, a whole lot more has always kept me busy. Lately on the nights Nitty is out deejaying or drumming or art-show hopping, I find myself home around 9 pm and wondering if I should call someone. But who? New Delhi probably has hundreds of women named Sumathi Reddy but I haven't found my own personal version yet... I think we're definitely still trying to find our groove on that front...
Also Naya has grown into a funny thing and true to her Chinese zodiac of a monkey. She knows the whole alphabet and her numbers (although every now and then she sees 8 and yells out "B!!") and dances and sings and is adept at Hindi and a concoction of English, Assamese and Hindi. Example: Mujhe alopmaan pani chahi ye please. When you ask her who her best friends are, she says very dutifully -- Mitra-Mommy, Nitin-Papa and Felicia. We think she is pure genius and funnier than Jerry Seinfeld and Russell Peters combined.
In addition to asking us to read a whole pile of books -- all the time -- she also has gotten into made-up stories. Tonight she asked for one about "Ata Toko." I felt bad because I think her memory of them -- her maternal grandparents -- is definitely fading; she looks through her newborn album and sees them and also remembers certain gifts they gave but her connections seem more material and rooted in photos than I intended. Through migration, I've inflicted the same pain of separation on her that Nitin and I went through. Inheritance of loss, indeed.
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