Skip to main content

At the Sabzi Bazaar

My next door neighbour, Mrs. Asha Singh, wants to visit the local market.  She has a matter or two to check at the bank and then she would like to have a look around the local shops.  She asks me if I'm up for an 'outing', as she calls it. Well, who doesn't like to get out for an hour or so?  I check to make sure the old dear (mother-in-law) is in good company - she is, her sister-in-law is over on a short visit of a day or two, and off we go.

So with an air of freedom, Mrs. Asha Singh and I are off, walking, chatting, keeping an eye out on the road and holding our shopping bags nice and close.  We stop off at the bank.  It's always nice to see that your bank book is up to date.  No doubt, it's nice to have ATM machines and all the rest, but Mrs. Asha Singh doesn't have time for such things.  Your bank book is your real wealth as far as she is concerned.  Me?  I use the bank all right, but I try to have as little to do with ATM machines  as possible.  One visit to an ATM machine and I lose track of my bank account forever.

After the bank, the vegetable market (sabzi bazaar) is the next stop.  It is quite a big vegetable market.  I love the atmosphere of the place, which its colourful fruits neatly piled up.  For me it's more luxurious than a chocolate shop.  However, the pomegranates are ridiculously expensive.  I'll wait a few more weeks until they become a bit more accessible.

Mrs. Asha Singh spends quite a bit of time haggling over cucumbers.  There's another little touch of luxury - salad!  Forget cooked vegetables, I could live on fruits and salads, vegetarian or not.  But the morning heat is insidious.  I'm feeling depleted and thirsty.

"Hello, Maria!  How are you today?" says a familiar voice.  I look up and see a familiar face, swathed with long, white veils down to her feet.  Sister Theresa from the local Carmelite Convent School and a fellow parishioner of mine.  How nice.

So Mrs. Asha Singh meets Sister Theresa.  The two of them probably wouldn't have met in a lifetime if it wasn't for me.  Sr. Theresa is from south India and speaks a language called Malayalam.  Mrs. Asha Singh is a Hindi speaking north Indian.   Strange are the ways of life.

Purchases completed, Sr. Theresa offers us a lift home, gladly accepted by me.  Mrs. Asha Singh is also happy.  We had  a nice morning, but it's getting too hot.

I sit in the lovely, luxurious (to me for now at least!) convent jeep, property of the Catholic Church and I think to myself that sometimes it feels so good to be a Catholic!  Especially at times like this.  I mean that in the nicest way possible....

I've just had a new comment system installed.  If you would like to leave a comment, please click on the title of this post and allow a little time for the comment system to load - thanks!

Comments

  1. Again a similarity in words has jumped out at me...Turkish word for vegetable...sebze.

    Sounds like a pleasant day...hope you are feeling much better now xx

    ReplyDelete
  2. I don't like ATM machines either, Maria. I prefer the personal touch of going up to talk to a bank teller.

    Is your hot weather the start of summer, or the end? I'm not sure what the season is in India! I'm sure you were thankful for the unexpected ride home, on such a hot day. :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Roaming around is always a great thing to do...greatest time pass for me at least....

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Thanks for visiting me. Please let me know you were here

Popular posts from this blog

The Climate in my Hometown LBC Post

I am originally from Dublin in the Republic of Ireland. We have a maritime climate, neither too hot nor too cold. Cool, wet winters and warm summers.  We get the odd freak weather condition, like several feet of snow, once in a while to make life interesting.  Pretty ideal really.  

Now I reside in Lucknow in north India. In the Indo-Gangetic plain.  Cold dry winters, roasting hot summers and a humid rainy season.  It seems like it's always too hot or too cold. Or too humid. Humidity is something I dread.  It brings itching, rashes and all of that.  Okay, too hot will work for me. So will too cold (although I hate dry cold, that's energy-sapping). But humidity is .......not at all good. And that's a euphemism if ever there was one,. 

I wish to dedicate this post to my beloved and erudite rakhi brother Rummuser, who suggested this topic.

And thanks to freedigitalphotos.net for the above illustration, 'Paper Weather Icon Illustration' by SweetCrisis.

The Loose Blogging C…

Impatience

Many years ago, when I lived in Dublin, I met someone nice and started dating. I wasn't serious, I just thought we could have nice interesting discussions about India, which I found absolutely fascinating, as I was working in the Embassy of India back then. I had no intention of getting attached with a foreigner, with all the attendant cultural problems. I was happy living in Ireland and the idea of marriage couldn't have been further from my mind.

We both thought we could just keep things in control. One day, after a lot of emotional turmoil and denial, it hit us both that we were in love. Truly. Madly. Irrevocably. To the point where we couldn't live without each other. I'd known about the Indian system of arranged marriages and when it occurred to me that he would probably be married off by his family as soon as he returned to India, I felt physically ill at the thought. We are both tenacious and patient people. We realised that bringing our two worlds together would…

Kipling Got it Wrong! Or Eastern and Western Culture - Reflections

What Is Culture?
I’m opening this blog post with a question. What is that elusive concept which is commonly known as ‘culture? Culture is way of life. How we live. What our values are.  Our customs, attitudes and perceptions. And also, I suppose, how we express ourselves in art through, such as music, dance, theatre and cinema.  It’s quite a comprehensive area and not too easy to define, really.



The Journey
I was born in what is commonly known as ‘the west’. I lived in Ireland for the first thirty years of my life. When I was thirty, I married my husband and came out to India to live here with him. That was the beginning of an interesting journey, which is still evolving. I must have had some east/west comparison stereotypes in my head. But in India, I found that the people I met had huge stereotypes in their heads about what they called ‘western culture’ and ‘western way of life’. Not long after I arrived in India, I was struck by the number of people who said things to me like ‘in the …