That is what I would call my ship if I ever have one. Curious. And it would be covered with bumper stickers from here and there and would carry sands from some of the most remote places on this planet. And some of the sand would shimmer a golden hue and some of the sand would be the darkest black and some of the sand would smell of torn petals.
That make a good name for a dog as well actually. Curious the Dog. Kind of sounds like the pet name of some old Roman king or some shit like that.
Something made me think about paanwallas and how they would have all these metallic boxes with each box holding only one ingredient. And the magical way in which he would know exactly what each box contained and would whip out the cover and sprinkle something meetha and something khatta onto the paan ka leaf. And the pile in the centre of the leaf would just grow bigger and bigger until (finally) he would dip a spoon into the container of gulkand and scoop it on top of all the yumminess.
I am forever amazed at what we remember (even if we make no conscious decision to) and what we do not.
Because I learnt how to ride on Delhi roads, visiting this city will always bring back memories of riding on city streets. Some times late in the night. After a long, burning day. The heat from the engine burning into your legs and the sand and dust scratching into your skin.
Or when things got cold and your fingers would freeze and you would have to hunch down and wish you would reach your destination soon.
Another memory that will always be associated with this city is the sweepers of the streets. Sweeping away the dust off tree-lined roads. The swishing scratching sound of their brooms against the road. The dust flying through the air and the motes reflecting in the rising sun.
Friends and I visited purani dilli and moinuddin and gorged on these delicate (oh so delicate) sheek kebabs made of the finest moo moo you will ever find. Delicate to touch and yummy to bite into, that tang of lime juice and green chutney, that additional bite of the cut onions.
Friends also decided to call me Amit Shah. From now on.
Then, then. What you did? Today is a holiday it seems. Tomorrow is a friday. And the day after a saturday and then a sunday and then a monday and then a tuesday.
Fuck, can you imagine a nursery school teacher on crack or even ganja.
Just all spaced out and looking at those creepy crawly toddlers all over the place.
And one of the kids launching into this story of how his pop recently brought a unicorn and how the unicorn’s tatti smells of Chanel No.5.
And the teacher just listening and listening, believing everything that is being said. Occasionally saying “Woh. That’s awesome. Wooooh” or some shit like that.
Peace out. Hash tag hash.