I've been to India a couple times now. It is an interesting place -and full of contradictions. People are nice to you one minute and in a microsecond wil steal and do whatever else to make it so difficult. On my forst trip, I was inspired to being a short story. Here is an excerpt ..
Marie Bal was rather tall for a woman with short frumpy hair
of a mousey brown colour. Her ears protruded from about the right place. The
lobes appeared to have been pierced crudely-perhaps by herself as they really
weren’t quite in the same place on close examination. They were a bit on the
large size, slightly inflamed, as if from long heavy bobbles made from base
metal that had tried to poison her beauty. Marie’s eyes were slightly offset. Not
too much mind you but just enough to make people look away at first_ and then
take a second glance, which often could be seen to be an ogle!. You either
thought she was a most attractive woman. Or you found her drab and an unapproachable. Dr. Bob was mesmerized.
Mie’s friends had always said she was more like her father it. It was he who had an unusual face for a Chinese general- having been born from the union
between a Uighur father and Tibetan mother. Mie’s cheeks were slightly angular
and she certainly did not have the flat pancake look.
When she smiled, which she seldom did, her lips pursed to
reveal a splendid set of teeth_ totally unexpected, for most women from her
generation by now had teeth that were deteriorating missing or sporting the
bright-red stain of betel. Good oral hygiene not being a practice of the
peasant class, which she had, just the evening before, told everyone where she was
from.
Mie wore a loose-fitting top beneath which you could see the
angular shape of an armor-plated bra, like the ones in those discos
in China thought Dr. Bob, as he perused this newcomer to the guesthouse communal
table.
“Where should I sit?”, she blurted out rather loudly in
unmistakable Beijing Chinglesh.
Anywhere came a shout from the kitchen-the Chapattis will be
ready soon.
"Anywhere but this chair," piped in Dr. Bob. Hi, my name’s
Bill-but you can call me Doctor Bob. What’s your name; my dear? You look lovely
this morning I might add". He noticed she wore no rings despite the noise from, he presumed, regional sexercise which had woken him a few hours before. Maybe she’s a possible
candidate for physical inspection soon, he mused..
Mie looked at him silently for a moment as if she had heard
his thoughts precisely.
“My name is Mie Ayam”, she replied, “and I know who you are!
And what you do! You can tell us all about it after breakfast if you have
time.”
He almost choked, then fussed
She sat.
Mei sat, choosing to sit as far away from him as possible,
which in the tiny confines of the breakfast room, meant diagonally across atable for 6.
Dr. Bob continued reading the India news, as if it mattered,
and as if he could really read Hindi.
The chipatis arrived- whisked in by a small boy wearing
traditional garb with no shoes or sandals. He limped and had one missing tooth. Seems clean enough thought Mie.
Dropping the plate on the table he whirled around and went
back into the kitchen. About the same time, Miss Renee burst into the room with two
plates. One was piled high with toast; the other was a large bowl of scrambled
eggs with something else. He couldn’t quite make it out.Maybe this is the dal I have heard about.
She beamed her smile at her guests as sheplopped herself down
in the chair beside Mie Ayam.” I’ve got a surprise for breakfast! “
