We had just a few hours at Pisa, but we could not travel all over Italy and not visit the famous leaning tower. So we asked a lady on a train what to do, and she wrote for us the name of the bus stop to which we needed to go to see the leaning tower. We showed a bus driver the stop, written in my diary, and he seemed confused. He asked us a question in Italian. We did not understand. We shook our heads regretfully. "Leaning tower?" we asked. He shrugged. "Torre pendente?" he asked. We shrugged. "Leaning tower of Pisa?" we asked, leaning slightly, to convey what we wanted. "Piazza del Duomo?" he asked. "No, no, no duomo!" we said. We knew that word. 'Duomo' meant cathedral. "Leaning tower!" we cried. "Seven wonders of the world! Leaning tower of Pisa!" It's strange how the subconscious believes that volume can surmount the language barrier. "Pisa," nodded the bus driver, and … [Read more...]
Cut
My sister and I often got invited to the same parties. Once, when I was about seven, both of us received birthday invitations that had a fancy RSVP slip that had to be cut along the dotted line. Below the dotted line, it said: I can/ cannot attend your birthday party. (Please cut one) I took my scissors and painstakingly cut out 'cannot'. My gaping hole became a bit too gaping though and I went sadly to my father. Both 'can' and 'cannot' had fallen victim to my scissors. My father laughed out loud, I remember, and explained that 'cut along the dotted line' was with scissors, but 'cut one' was with a pen. Now, how was a seven-year-old to know that? I remember how self-righteously upset I was! My father being my father, though, sat with blade and pen and altered my sister's RSVP slip, making it 'We can/ cannot attend your birthday party.' Then we had the joy of signing both our names … [Read more...]
No Television
I moved into a flat that looked as if it had been painted by the landlord himself. It had definitely been painted by someone who had never painted anything before. I loved the flat despite that, though, and I particularly liked my landlord and landlady. They were extremely curious about a girl who wanted to live all alone. More than that, they were curious about this girl who had come all the way from Pune to live in their beloved Calcutta and study there. And most of all, I was a rare specimen because I spoke little Bangla. As helpful neighbours, they came to talk to me even before I had moved in. They asked me what I did and my landlady suggested to me where I should put my bed and other things. "I don't have a bed," I said apologetically. "Oh, okay, okay." That was normal. "You can put your TV here." "I don't have a TV." "Oh!" That was not normal. "No TV?" I … [Read more...]
Twins
My sister and I have repeatedly been told how alike we look. A few have also told us how different we look, astounded that we are sisters. The former is more usual, though, and two instances stand out. As children, a gentleman came up to us. "Excuse me, but are you twins?" Taught never to talk to strangers, we were on the defensive. "Um... No..." The gentleman laughed, embarrassed. "You see, my wife and I see you from our balcony everyday, and we've been wondering..." We found the episode more than a little weird, but there was another more recent and more direct incident that made us laugh out loud. Particularly when we are dressed similarly, people are struck by the resemblance. At a wedding a few years ago, we were both decked up in saris. A small girl, probably about four years old, was staring at us. After gazing at us unblinkingly for a few seconds, she … [Read more...]
Interesting Artichokes
The word 'interesting' is a perfectly tactful word that expresses nothing. It has become a word that's neither positive nor negative, conveying that exact degree of neutrality that is considered diplomatic. And 'interesting' was exactly the word associated with my first experience of artichokes. I had read about artichokes and was willing to try, especially in a place where vegetarian food is typically associated with aubergines and courgettes, neither of which I enjoy tremendously. So, coming to artichokes. You pluck the leaf, dip one end into the sauce and suck the pulp. Then you put the leaf aside to throw away. Then you pluck another leaf, have the tiny bit of pulp with sauce and put the leaf aside. Then you pluck another leaf, have the tiny bit of pulp and put the leaf aside. Then you pluck another leaf, have the tiny bit of pulp and put the leaf aside. At the end of half an … [Read more...]
The Right Words
At dance class, children frequently cannot find their shoes. They leave their shoes in a mess outside the hall, and in their eagerness to leave when their parents come, other shoes get kicked, sometimes quite far away. One child came up to me with worry written all over her little round face. "Miss, my feet..." She stopped. The word was wrong. "My shoe," I suggested, having understood the problem. She shook her head, frowning. That was not the word she was looking for. "My foot," she began, laboriously. "Shoe," I suggested again, helpfully, I thought. She shook her head again, a little impatient with me this time. A frown of concentration had replaced the worry on her face. After a few seconds, she announced, triumphantly, "One foot does not have a shoe." … [Read more...]
Ramayan in French
My association with France began with a French exchange programme in 2004. I was vegetarian, I barely spoke French, I had never heard the French accent, I was to live with a French family for three weeks and I was to attend French school in that time. And because I was 17, I was not scared, I was excited. I remember the first day vividly. I remember all the attempts everyone made at making conversation. We talked about the world wars. We talked about food. We talked about India. We talked about France. I understood about five per cent of the conversation. And then, one thing led to another, and my sister and I started talking about the Ramayana. In English, it's a beautiful, complex story that I enjoy telling. In French especially back then, I was comfortable only with present tense. That's all very well for regular story-telling, but if you forget that one little episode, you're … [Read more...]
Complete Instructions
I revisited a very old recipe-book today. A little bored of baking cakes and pies, I decided to look at different kinds of dessert for a change. So I took out my little green book that's falling to bits - a book called Refrigerator Recipes. I remember liking the book very much because of its attention to detail. Today, it made me smile once more because of how it begins with the very basics. The first chapter is titled 'Buying a Refrigerator'. … [Read more...]
Crisp Apple Strudel
When we went to Salzburg, we knew more about The Sound of Music than about Mozart. Now I'm mildly embarrassed about that, but when we went, I was just plain excited. Everyone wants to talk to young Indian backpackers, and conversation with a co-passenger from Vienna to Salzburg was natural. She told us she lived in Vienna and travelled to Salzburg regularly for work, so we asked her our excited questions: how easy is it to buy apple strudel? Is it a speciality of Salzburg/ Austria? What is schnitzel? Do you eat it with noodles? Vastly amused, she answered our questions before asking us why our questions were so pointed. We told her about the famous song from The Sound of Music, a little surprised that she had not heard of it. "Yes, yes," she replied. "I've heard of the movie, I think. But not many people in Austria know it. It's the story of many Austrians during the war." She hinted … [Read more...]
A Night in Florence
"Is the station open all night?" In Florence with no hostel to stay at and frightfully expensive hotel options, we had no choice but to stay at the station. "Yes," replied the lady and walked away. I wonder if she even understood the question. We made ourselves comfortable in the waiting-room, as comfortable as we could get. There were other people, thankfully, so we didn't feel destitute. Sitting in the waiting-room somehow bordered on the normal, even though we had not done it before. We lounged on chairs, hugging our luggage, trying to get the seats not to poke us too much. And then, at midnight, they chased us out of the waiting room. "Station-strike," they said. We groaned, picked up our luggage and went out. We were three teenagers outside a station in a foreign country in the middle of the night. Yes, there were others, but they spoke a language we didn't know, they were all … [Read more...]