Tomorrow I challo.
Today I spent the majority of my day in search of a Bollywood wallet, as to replace the one that was stolen from me on the Delhi Metro. At the time, it contained:
- three Bollywood inlays incurred for 50 paisa (1/2 ruppee) each
- an array of used train tickets
- a hand drawn map of where to get shredded salad in Paharganj
I'm sure the thing is now discarded in the Yamuna; a monumental sentiment to how the civilian love for Bollywood clearly stops at attire, where all garments and accessories cry only for Am-Er-Ik-A, usually with wrestling iconography.
I did however, buy pickle. According to the washing machine advertisement on the metro, it seems to be the Indian equivalent of red wine: "gets out the toughest stains, even pickle."
Hopefully Canadian customs will be more understanding of its (now pickled) organic components than the US was when I tried to bring Washington grown Granny Smith apples from Victoria to Seattle. I will also insist on taste tests to those with any foreboding curiousity regarding my garam masala.
Tomorrow; the rest of my Gandhi notes go to Bollywood.
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1 comment:
Mmmmm Indian pickle.
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