Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Personification, Sort of


If the city of Bhuj were a woman, she’d be petite and unassuming, but noticeably radiant each evening when the sun saunters towards the horizon, taking the heat with it like a consolation prize. You’d want her to like you, so you’ll assure her that you of course don’t drink or smoke or have boyfriends and definitely don’t eat meat or eggs.* She’ll be reserved and distant the first time you meet her, but she’s friendlier during the second interaction. By the third, you’re so pleased to receive an invitation to her home that you don’t mind when she calls you “Jenny” and your roommate Shulie, “Lucy.”

To get to her home, you will go around the skittles colored temple, wind past the sacred cricket field, and turn left at the sign (uncommonly in English): "Dr. Jignesh. Certified. Physician and Gunecologist.” Her flat will be a snug shade of small with floor cushions for furniture and neighborhood children for entertainment. Beholden to tradition, she does all the cooking and cleaning for her family; aligned with modernization, she also works for a local NGO.  She will speak as much English as you do Gujarati, so despite the education you’ve both received, the conversation will humbly be reduced to baby talk and body language. “Your house. Nice.” Smile exchange. “Food good.  Please, no more.” Motion towards full stomach. When you hear her daughter does “marketing,” you will excitedly begin to tell her that’s what you studied in school. You loooove commonalities.

You will later discover that “marketing” means to go buy things - in the market.
You will be mortified that people think you earned a degree in shopping.

You follow up dinner by experiencing the zenith of Bhuj social life … going out for ice cream. Litchi fruit, mango, fig, black current, saffron, rose – the flavors are so tantalizingly intoxicating and the company of your friends (yes, local Bhujians are your friends), so scrumptious that you don’t miss the giant margarita that you would’ve given an arm, a leg, and definitely at the very least your appendix (because really what use is it anyways?) for an hour ago. Everyone gets a scoop and shares.

For a moment, you detach from the conversation on arranged marriages, admiring Bhuj for her taste in warm people and cool nights. You make a mental note to always appreciate them. To live life to the fullest here. To get out of your comfort zone. To say you studied commerce instead of marketing. A tap on your shoulder brings you back. “What are you thinking about?” a friend gently inquires.
You announce, under the influence of sweet, sweet litchi, “The second round..is on me.”

*Bhuj is in Gujarat and as Gandhi’s home state, it is both a dry state and a vegetarian state.


With Friends at an Ice Cream Stand in Bhuj