The great Indian wedding

An extended family thing. So, on a fateful weekend, my mom and I reached Mumbai. My brother and his family came all the way from California. And we were treated to the spectacle. .
The bride was beautiful. All brides are beautiful but this one Was particularly beautiful. She wore the traditional red saree. Blood red. With gold embroidery.
The bridegroom looked happy. All bridegrooms look happy.  But this one was exceptionally so.
They’d met through Internet. She is a dentist.
The rest of it was a mix of colour clamour and some pretty bad Bollywood Hindi music. Most of the guests sat and wondered what we were about. But then it happened. The one minute miracle. That gets you dewy eyed and thinking about happiness and lifetimes. The moment when, they looked at each other. And were alone. Together.
Against Bollywood and the world

What a privilege to be there.

Henné 

Magic in 10 minutes 

Too integrated.

There’s something like being too integrated. Right now, that’s how I feel. Between looking for toxoplasma bradyzoites in BRain biopsies, jumping with joy at the strongyloides larvae( I found it!!)  and optimizing plasmodium pcr, Ihave really started liking this place. I like it when they discuss cases with me, like it when they share their lunches, like it when they talk of food , or films or Tuberculosis.
Will be sad when I have to leave.
I suppose my fellow was successful 

 being in a tropical country is like being surrounded by vigorous sounds and smells. Nature seems to express herself uninhibited, unmuted. For example, In Kolkata, we were awakened, every morning, by a particularly vociferous Koel bird, singing away at 300 in the morning.She liked the jackfruit tree in the backyard. This jackfruit tree was laden with fruits and anyone who has  ever smelt a jackfruit, can never forget the aroma.  Flowers have odours too. And very unlike the soft smells of lavender in our canadian streets in summers. Walk down a Mahua tree, and breath in the  intoxicating odour of the mahua flower. literally intoxicating: they do brew a kind of alcohol from these flowers in East India. ( i didn't like it very much, but then again...)

 And  the Sheeuli tree ! Harsingar in hindi, dunno what its called in english. The trees are laden with white flowers with orange centres. What a fabulous, heady smell.And so very distinctive of  autumn. Morning finds the soil around the tree covered with these flowers; we would scoop them up in handfuls. Once, in my linguistic zeal, I asked my friend, Aung si the latin name of this wondrous plant. Aung si, who knew everything, didn't disappoint.
Nyctanthes arbor-tristis. The tree that cries at night. And the flowers on the ground are the tears.
Nice!

Delhi is an old old city. And it’s been the capital for a long long time. Greedy rulers from Central Asia had a habit of  plundering Delhi.  Some would loot, kill, and ride away. Some would stay and rule. And construct. And what’s left of these constructions, is pretty much spectacular
  When we were kids, we used to take Delhis heritage for granted. Walks in Lodhi gardens, playing  hide and seek around 800 year old tombs, driving about roundabouts built around solid,round domed stone monuments, and picnicking in the rose gardens in the ancient ´purana quilla’ (old walled city) were considered normal weekend activities.
 And now, after so many years, One is quite simply fascinated  by them. and how they blend into the city scape. Mughal architect is characterized by ’true arches and domes’  said the school textbook. And so much more. Exquisitely designed stone, almost unravaged by time. Tiles. Carvings. And parrots making their homes in the Stone crevices. Home to the dead  kings and queens of yore. Somehow  a part of the collective unconscious.
Delhi redeemed 🙂

And the war fizzled out. Or rather, transformed  into a  soap opera. Our pilot was captured. Our pilot was released. Mothers all over India wept tears of joy in front of 24 hour exclusive live telecasts on 24 h exclusive live TV channels. All 20000 of them. Abhi is back. God bless . The pakis are bad bad bad but somebody , perhaps Donald trump, drummed some sense into their heads. (And assured his next years sale of  F16 fighter bombs )
And we change channels. An India Australia cricket match. Telecast 24 hour live exclusive on TV.

India won. 

Talk of war with Pakistan. All around. And social media amplifiés things so much that reality starts getting blurred. Ppl talk of the kinds and makes of fighter jets India possesses. In fact we hear these jets flying above. Going somewhere. Whooooom. So big and noisy. It’s a nuclear state and so is Pakistan. Deterrent, restrain, annihilation. Revenge and retribution.

It’s scary at a very practical level. Of course I’d rather not be a part of it. At any level. Even if I think it’s mostly propaganda and populism. War mongering wins elections. And elections are round the corner. Nobody can afford to seem unpatriotic these days.

Hmmm.