6 March: Village Excitement, Unknown Herbal Product Excitement, and a Tragedy

I have sad news. One of the rabid dogs’ tiny puppies, the ones who like napping in the middle of the road, has entered the eternal rest, forever napping by the side of the road. Perhaps it’s for the best; there’s no lack of scrawny dogs eating only God knows what (or rather, I know exactly what: rubbish) and, in a Darwinian sense, napping in the middle of the road is not the cleverest of habits.

I went for my weekly supermarket pilgrimage today. On the way I was hailed by Yusuf, my favourite auto driver. He is nice and fleeces me slightly less than the other auto wallahs, and I always ask reception to call him if I need to go somewhere. Yusuf offered to drive me, but as I preferred walking I declined, thereby confirming his suspicions that I am off my rocker. However, these are kindly people, who accept that you’re off your rocker, and treat you with compassion.

Proving that life here is by no means lacking in excitement, a large car, driving very fast, decided to honk very loudly just as I was passing two cows and a dog. All three took fright and scattered in every direction, resulting in me getting very cosy with one of the cows, and forcing the driver to stop. Ha.

Ladies who lunch

I bought some interesting hibiscus tea at the supermarket. I’ll let you know if it turns out to have intoxicating properties. I also cleaned them out of their entire stock of sandalwood soap, which smells gorgeous. This may come in handy, as one of the many interesting effects of the spicy food is to make me smell like sweaty curry after (and to a large extent during) my morning runs. You have been warned.

I managed to top up my phone, with the help of a dodgy man in a phone shop. Unlike the dodgy man who sold me the phone, this one didn’t try to also sell me an enormous gas canister. I was almost disappointed – add-on sales are so important.

The treatment continues. The nerve desensitization remains painful. Jeshma now does lots of strength training with me – Arnold Schwarzenegger can go home. According to Jeshma, I have good core strength, which is good to hear as Manjula declared, when I arrived, that my lower abs were in shit state, and I’ve been doing lower ab exercises ever since. Apparently they have now paid off. The doctor is of the opinion that I am about 50 % rehabilitated, and I shouldn’t have to stay longer than three months – hurrah!

I have constant Bridget Jones déjà-vu, as people keep asking me if I’m married. I’m starting to feel like an immoral floozy, and worry about being eaten by Alsatians. I told Ajeesh about the amusing  visa registration form, and he explained earnestly that yes, in India a woman belongs either to her husband or her father. Tough luck on my father, say I. (He should have married me off when I was seventeen, had long blonde hair and was worth twenty camels.) I can at least take advantage of other people’s marriages; the other day we got dessert with lunch as it was Manjula’s parents’ 25^th wedding anniversary – even though Manjula wasn’t even here! Also, there is an American tv programme which is amusing and repulsive in equal measure, called The Bachelorette (or The Bachelor, depending on whether the current season is about a repulsive woman choosing a husband from 25 repulsive men or the other way around). A physio called Robin and I are both fascinated by this concept and keep each other updated on the latest happenings. (I missed the episode where Matt from London chose which girl to marry as I had to go down for my doctor’s consultation, but luckily Robin could fill me in – he chose the vulgar one from California, whose mother had had so much plastic surgery done that she looked like an anorexic trout.)

That’s all for now.

Thank you, come again!