One fine sunny Sunday, as the sun gently retreats into the late afternoon, I sit at my desk examining my vocab list. I look up from my desk, it is only 4:30 but something tells me I am done with sedentary studying. I decide to go on a follow-the-breeze venture, out of my room, out of the gates to the property, out down the road down a little alleyway, a left down a littler alleyway, a right on a small street where boys play tag. “Are dustu chele” I call out to the little giggling four-year-old boys as they run after each other. They stop and stare a couple of seconds as they compute the fact that a white girl has called them naughty boys in Bengali. I run after them and giggle along as they strategically defeat me by running in different directions. I am already glad that I left the house. Something is right in the air.
I turn around a bend and see a group of women sitting together. Mehendi? I wonder and glance over at their late-afternoon activity, which ends up to be sorting rice (chaal baachaano) I stroll a little longer and peek inside a small store stacked with newspapers. Two women are sitting inside, and lo, one is applying mehendi on the other. Something in the air drew me in this direction. “Looks great,” I comment to them, “Some day you want to do some on my hands?”
“Sure,” she says “sit here” Wow. That was easy. She beckons my left hand forward and smears it with a sweet smelling oil—I still don’t know what it was. While she was applying mehendi, I got to know that the two women are sisters and that the sister having her hand decorated (shown in the below photo) was having an anna prasan the next day-the festival every child has commemorating their first solid food. Her expression in this photo is token to her enthusiastic sense of humor by which we became friends withing minutes. When I congratulated her on her good fortune of having a son, she says,"Boys? Who would want boys? All men do is eat, sleep and chew paan, it's we women who do a
ll the work." Later she confirmed that luckily her husband was a good man who worked hard. Nonetheless, her jokes led to an ongoing friendship, indeed I am leaving the computer soon to see her family
I turn around a bend and see a group of women sitting together. Mehendi? I wonder and glance over at their late-afternoon activity, which ends up to be sorting rice (chaal baachaano) I stroll a little longer and peek inside a small store stacked with newspapers. Two women are sitting inside, and lo, one is applying mehendi on the other. Something in the air drew me in this direction. “Looks great,” I comment to them, “Some day you want to do some on my hands?”
“Sure,” she says “sit here” Wow. That was easy. She beckons my left hand forward and smears it with a sweet smelling oil—I still don’t know what it was. While she was applying mehendi, I got to know that the two women are sisters and that the sister having her hand decorated (shown in the below photo) was having an anna prasan the next day-the festival every child has commemorating their first solid food. Her expression in this photo is token to her enthusiastic sense of humor by which we became friends withing minutes. When I congratulated her on her good fortune of having a son, she says,"Boys? Who would want boys? All men do is eat, sleep and chew paan, it's we women who do a
ll the work." Later she confirmed that luckily her husband was a good man who worked hard. Nonetheless, her jokes led to an ongoing friendship, indeed I am leaving the computer soon to see her family
1 comment:
you and your S alliterations... your exhuberance gets you into more fun adventure than difficulties... nice to see you remain playful and continue to make friends
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