With the zeal of the newly converted, I set out this Sunday morning to the nearest open market near my house. I crossed the border from Indiranagar into the road of Thippasandra’s market, which is really a handful of vendors setting shop on handcrafts, but it gives nice Raviwar Peth vibes because of the other shops on the road. It scores better than Raviwar Peth on ambience and cleanliness and I love Thippasandra for its south indian neighbourhood typicalness without the oppressive humidity of Madras, but that is about it. The variety, bustle, and price points are horrifiying for a fresh of the boat Pune open market enthusiast like me. So, like my mother, I too found myself judging and outraging.
I bought onions and potatoes. These were at 40 Rs/kg and I got half kg of each. The transaction was pretty simple. When I entered the market the vendors hailed me in Hindi. Depending on my mood, I sometimes play along as a Hindi speaker, which actually, I am. But everyone is Tamil speaking in Thippasandra and the vendors are all Tamil and I know outsiders are over charged so I proceeded in Tamil making sure I referred to the vegetables by their Tamil names. I looked at the greens and had a heart attack. I had bought palak for Rs 5 a bunch in Pune and here it was for Rs 30. I let it be cos MK Retail where I usually get my groceries from sells greens in smaller quantities which work well for my needs. The only other thing I got from Thippasandra was amla – this was about 10 Rs cheaper than MK Retail so maybe I scored savings of Rs. 10? I also learnt the prices of other things – garlic is selling for Rs 40/250 gms. This is outrageous as well. I got half kg for Rs 50 from Raviwar peth the other day. Ufff. It was also cheaper at MK Retail. So much for my mother finding MK Retail prohibitive. In many instances, it is cheaper than the nearest open market to my house. Of course, I would need to visit a legit open market such as Madivala to really guage price difference cos my neighbourhood is a bit la di dah in that sense. Actually, I want to move out of here for very many reasons so let us hope that happens soon.
But the more interesting bits of the market jaunt were the things that happened beyond the vegetables. For instance, at the tomato stall, I was handed Rs 50 as change. I walked a bit ahead to see a coconut seller and felt I should drink some coconut water. I handed him the 50 rupee note for a 10 rupee change back. He refused to accept the note and told me it was counterfeit. I asked him what happened and he pointed to a flower on the note that he said was not authentic. I was stumped. I went back to the woman who gave it to me to return it and she agreed and said that she did not realize that she had given me that note or maybe I am so obviously not fitting in with a knowledgeable customer that their practiced eye can anyway tell that she tried to fob off the note on me. Anyway, I realized I really am far divorced from currency note discourse. I deal in currency notes everyday cos I have to pay toll on my way to work and it has never been an issue, but my first day in the market and I suddenly got a lesson in counterfeit currency. Wow. I pay by card for everything more out of convenience than any strong feelings about digital India so this is not knowledge that I am familiar with. Gosh, I am a sitting duck for being fooled if I find myself in a currency only situation. Thankfully, this did not happen in Pune thus far.
The other nice things that happened was just the feel of walking around in the mild winter sun. Stretching my legs and getting some fresh air. I did something off script by stopping at the coconut sellers and enjoying some fresh elneer. And it is that which stopped me from carrying home a counterfeit note. But, that is about it. I drove right back to MK Retail to complete my grocery shopping and got my fruits and everything else while feeling guilty about not paying market price to people who could not afford to buy in bulk and therefore offer cheaper deals to customers like MK Retail could do. On the other hand, I am a loyal customer of MK Retail since many years not only because of convenience, but also because they rarely lose an employee. Everybody working there are people I have seen since all my years shopping there. That to me is a sign of a good employer. Also, it is a Muslim owned local grocery chain and given there is more than way to support local economy, I default to it because it is also just behind my house.
I don’t think I will make this a regular affair, but I do think I will visit Thippasandra market at intervals, just to walk through and know the pulse of the market and see if I get handed any more counterfeit notes.
In part II of this post, I received my weighted blanket yesterday. I deliberated on it for six months before buying it. When it was delivered last afternoon, I immediately wanted to test it. So, I covered myself with it to check how it feels fully intending to immediately get up. Instead what woke me up from the depths of sleep after a long time was the door bell. Ufffffffffffffff. Disoriented and groggy I signed for the other parcel of sambrani and camphor and charcoal that I sent myself from Pune before leaving. I found myself unable to function and went back to sleep again waking up only at 8 pm. Yes, the blanket was that good. I worried that I would not be able to sleep again at night. But, sweetness, I slept well and not only did I sleep well, but I also dreamt a sweet dream about D.
I do not know if the dream was because of the lovely secure feeling that the pressure of the blanket induced in me or if it was because of the teen romances I was watching on Ginny and Georgia or if it was becuase of the hotness that Joe in the series looks like, but I dreamed of D. Even though I did not think of D in the least while watching Joe. Hot, bearded, D. He got the beard after I left, but even through the profile picture that he uploaded, the screen burned up and my insides twisted and I thought what a fine, fine move, D, to grow that beard like you did. It only added to his broodiness, but he went and spoilt it by changing his picture to one where he is smiling. Maybe he wanted to come across as a bit more approachable, but it just doesn’t work. What a waste of all that brooding, which is how he actually is in real life and which is his ace card. Should have consulted with me, no?
D was the closest to what Zain Altaf Khan might have been in my head. The last person in a very long time to bring out the side of me that likes to spar and engage in wordplay. The person who is always in a hurry to be the first to say that they had to go, which unfailingly made me feel like I was being left behind and my heart would feel sad and undesired. Yet, also the person who unfailingly would wish me on my birthday even though I would pointedly ignore his, making me think that maybe I was not the only one feeling things. Until I remembered that they actually had a nephew who happened to share my birthday and that more than anything else contributed to their memory.
In any case, D made his choice and surprised me. He seemed inclined towards a certain kind of woman, a hot figuru to use Tamil slang, maybe a hot social sciencey chick such as the ones he knew from his campus. But, what he finally chose seemed to be far off my estimation of his tastes. Eh, what do I know?
But, then men like D are always careful about the choices they make. They sense the trouble that women of a certain kind are bound to bring. Them with their arguments, their idealism, their rejection of gender roles, their pride in their sense of self, their own egos and desires. All of that together makes men like D feel unsafe. They need the tamer, predictable, conventional, traditional, and less turbulent path to safeguard their role in the scheme of things. It includes having a well qualified and educated partner to match their status, but not someone who would threaten their own dominance. So, they are careful.
They will spar and enjoy the sparring and maybe even sense your own appreciation and enjoyment of what they are doing to you, but will be always careful that they don’t stay too long if they sense you are having more fun than you should. In that way, they are decent and careful to not lead you on. I once was with D in a connecting flight to an airport from where we would board different places. D was with another female friend of his and I remember looking at them and their closeness and how intimately close their heads were as they sat at the boarding gate and wondering if their intimacy was more than friendship and if they were dating and I sighed and thought of what it might have meant to be working on the same kinds of things that D did only to be able to see him everyday. I carried that feeling through the flight and thought of it as massive turbulence hit and people on the plane screamed thinking we were going down. I carried it through the snow and coldness of that Christmas break. Whatever was going on with D and that girl presumably stayed within the bounds of friendship cos they both picked different people.
Anyway, while I cannot share a picture of D, here is what Joe from Ginny and Georgia looks like. He does not seem to sadly be the main lead. Why can’t a brown man be the lead when romancing a white woman? Joe in real life is of Indo-Guyanese descent. Damn the British for taking away genes that would produce this kind of men away from India. Joe is far more affable than D is in real life and the only similarity they share is the beard.
Heer toh badi sad hai 
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