A Spring In India: Chapter 6

A Spring In India: Chapter 6
Don't Try To Sell Me Potatoes!


Chapter 1: Planes, planes and more planes
Chapter 2: Meeting Mumbai
Chapter 3: Ulhasnagar
Chapter 4: Why Lemonade SUCKS
Chapter 5: Milo Punjab Nu

So from the dusty, empty Amritsar airport (which is a new addition to the city and is still in further development), we drove in a white, air-conditioned car, past vast fields and all varieties of animals (the goat, the pig, the dog, the horse, the cow, the human) slowly dragging along on the edge of the streets. Our destination, Saloni Masi's house, was a short 15 minutes away. When we arrived, the first people to greet us....looked liked clones.

One of them was my cousin, Simar. The other, I had no idea who she was. The problem was...I didn't know which one was which!

One of these clones said something, and by the cadence of her voice and excitement in her eyes, I knew that she was my then-11 year old cousin, Simar. I had to wonder, then, who on earth was the other person? Turns out, she was "Rhythm", Simar's cousin on her dad's side. She was adorable, and gave us a big hug, and was just as friendly as Simar was even though she didn't know us.

The first thing I wanted to do was to explore Simar's house. First, I made a quick round through the quiet, darkened upper levels where only glassy light from outside emanated from the hard, marble-y floor. Here, there was a small, curtained-off "Babaji's Room"; a small study area (a wooden table littered with stuffed animals, knick-knacks, papers, etc), and then a spacious hallway. However, this was one of the only times during my trip that I went upstairs. The heart of the house was downstairs. I can still picture the layout even though it has been 1 and 1/4 years since I was there. Yellow and gray hues characterized the lighting and mood of the house, visually. When you entered, you entered directly into the dining area where everyone was gathered. In front of this was a small, separate kitchen which was almost always occupied. The two main rooms were opposite the kitchen: they were two bedrooms: one with a computer and a door leading to an outdoor laundry room, one a larger master bedroom with Simar's artwork (which she proudly displayed - she's a great artist!) on the walls and cabinets filled with clothes. Tucked away behind the dining area was the "sitting room" or drawing room, which seemed to be reserved for guests who dropped by.

After exploring her house, I felt a wave of comfort and good vibes. I had been sick earlier, as those of you who read the previous chapter know..and my stomach still felt weak and shaken, but I felt much better. The dreaded nausea was gone. I made myself some Maggi noodles in the kitchen and relaxed in front of the tv, intermittently playing/talking with the 3 kids (Simar, Rhythm, and Manjeet). Rhythm, it turned out, lived a few hours away, and was visiting Simar over her holidays. She was to leave in a couple of days.

The next morning, I woke up to a strange, strange noise. Among the clattering of crows and the jangling of various vehicles...I heard a man's voice, yelling at the top of his lungs: "Aaloo walay, aaloo walay, aaloo walaayyy!". He repeated this mantra again, and again....and again. It sounded almost musical. There was a rhythm to it: He would say it fast twice, and the third time, he would carry out the last vowel like a wolf's howl or something.

As creeped out as I was by this potato monger, I carried on with my morning, waiting for the day's activities to begin. But then, just when I thought peace had returned to Amritsar...I heard another man's voice, crying: "Pyaaja walay! Pyaaja walay! Pyaaja walaaaaay!" Oh my goodness. First, they try to sell us potatoes, now they are trying to sell us onions? Do they really think that by shattering our ear-drums, they are convincing us to buy vegetables?

I have to admit, I don't exactly remember what I did on this first day after arriving in Amritsar. My sister kept a diary of what she did, and she went to pick out fabrics for suits on this day. I know that I went on a separate day....

OH YES! We had gone out into the dusty, swarthy street to go shopping, or something. We decided to start off by getting a bite to eat at a place that sold pani puri. It was probably delicious (I don't remember much of this incident). Then, as we were about to head off to the shops to pick out fabrics, my stomach began aching and my head started tearing apart. That nausea which had subsided was coming back again. I begged to be dropped off home. Since we were also with my Pamma Masi (my mom's eldest sister), her husband Sunny Masarji, as well as my Nanima, were okay with taking me to their place.

Their house was just like I remember it from the previous times I went there. The pictures/decorations on the walls, the landscaping of the verdant yard, the coolness of the floors were all wonderfully familiar. Right now, it was totally empty. My grandmother did paht in the bedroom with the round bed, and after wandering around, humming to myself and whatnot, I went on the (very slow) computer to try to distract myself from my nausea. I watched videos of my favorite tv shows that I had missed, and killed time until the sky had darkened and the party came to relax at Pamma Masi's house, and then return home to Simar's house, where we went to sleep.

The next morning, guess what I heard again? Yes. You guessed it. Aaloo walay! This time, it was hilarious to me, and I yelled, at the top of my lungs, back to the distanct voice, repeating his words "Aaloo walay! Aaloo walay". And all of a sudden, he stopped yelling. I think I scared him!

Next chapter: Stay tuned for a day trip to Nanaksar, and all the things that happened there! I'd LOVE to read your comments on this post you're reading right now. It would mean a lot.