Random Thoughts

Forenote: I have taken the liberty to add a few fictional events and fictional dishes to the mix to enhance the quality of the prose and make it more readable. One might be tempted to think that an ideal domestic maid is a paragon of punctuality, proficiency, and an embodiment of culinary excellence. In our household , we have Manda Tai, who, I dare say, is none of these things. She is, however, honest and hardworking, virtues we hold in high regard, though they do little to mitigate the daily domestic disasters that seem to follow in her wake. Manda Tai, a woman of formidable constitution and an even more formidable will, has been a fixture in our home for years. Her approach to her duties is characterized by a lackadaisical competence, a sort of endearing mediocrity. She reminds me, quite fittingly, of a well-meaning but inept governess from a Victorian novel, whose attempts at order and efficiency invariably result in mild chaos and unintended hilarity. Cooking is, without doubt, he

7th July, 2000- The day I landed in Bombay.  Santacruz’ Airport – 1000hrs IST - The infamous monsoons of Bombay had already set in. We collected our luggage and hopped into a taxi for our destination-‘Andheri’. The first thing to hit me, once I was out of the airport, was a stench. It was a smell unlike any other, an unremitting odor that grows from weak to strong and vice-versa but never ceases, a peculiar reek, a stink atypical of the city. I was to realize it much later that it was the smell of the sea,  of the fish left out to dry in the open,  of the waste of 10 million people,  and of rats that far outnumbered the population. I didn’t want to come to Bombay but my Dad’s transfer forced us (me, my sister and my mom) to make a shift. So here I was- ‘A Reluctant Citizen’ of the Juggernaut called Bombay .   The cab glided through the broad roads and flyovers in the relentless rains. I stared out of the window at the other cabs and auto-rickshaws whizzing past. I could see the dis