(life) with a side of brownies: A rose by another name

It is customarily advisable (in cliché) for people to stop and smell the roses when they pass by them. In the same way, I always stop to watch the monkeys; they make me smile.

I hear that in other parts of India the monkeys are more populous and an aggressive nuisance. In Hyderabad, they are relatively rare though. In fact, unless you are looking up in the trees that hide behind crumbling walls and small shops, you are likely to miss them. Occasionally they will be on a sidewalk, but even then, they keep their distance from humans – so much so that when they notice me take out my camera (and they are perceptive!), they usually climb behind the nearby wall.

So usually, I stop a few yards away and watch them for a minute or two before I continue on my path. They are pleasant to watch. And because they are not as common as the chickens, goats, dogs, cows, and buffalo, they are a sweet surprise on my walk to work from time to time.

On my daily commute, these are the thoughts that have become routine:

“Hey buffalo, you are coming toward me at an uncomfortably quick pace.”
“Aww, aren’t you such a cute little boo?” (Usually directed at a dog, but occasionally at a cat or a child.)
(In response to a man saying ‘good morning’ to me at 6 pm.) “Why, good evening, sir.”
“The garbage smells particularly rank today.”
“OMG, I must resist the irresistible smell of fried peppers.”
“Haha, the traffic police exist. So much irony.”
“HEY! I’m walkin’ here!” (As I suppress the urge to pull a Dustin Hoffman and slam my palm across the hood of the vehicle that has inevitably cut me off.)
A particularly foul swear word. You know, the first one you learn as an adolescent when you learn to speak a new language from a native speaker – I used to know this one in Greek. My Greek friend Ioanna says this one with some authority in English, too. I stick to muttering it under my breath in English, every time a man climbs onto the sidewalk to relieve himself in front of God and women and children alike.
“Urgh, the pungent, distinctive smell of man-urine makes me want to vomit.”
“I wonder what that billboard is advertising.”
“No, strange sir I’ve never met, I would not like a lift on your motor bike.
“I hope I get home before it starts to rain.”
“Buses are such bullies.”
“Man, I need a break from this city.”
“My feet are disgusting.”

All of these things I think in passing. But when I see a monkey, I stop and I observe and I enjoy the moment before they see me and climb up the tree and over the wall. Monkeys are my roses.

Images from the commute: