His name is Naveen. He
has a cousin who lives in California. He
supplies our vegetables.
He asks us what we call the vegetables in American English
as we select our bounty. He speaks three
languages (Telegu, Hindi, and English) and uses the British terms for most
vegetables – coriander for cilantro, aubergine for eggplant, lady fingers for
okra (ok, that one might be a purely Indian English thing). He’s curious and nice and a joy to buy veggies from.
And he’s got some mad dance moves.
He invited us to celebrate Ganesh Chaturthi with
him. He had a blast playing this pinata-esque game made more difficult by colored water being thrown in the face of the batter while the drums kept time and the neighbors kept watch.
The city has been reverberating with drums and vibrancy for the past ten days. Even from our 12-storied rooftop, the energy and noise from the festival is fantastic. And constant.
Today, the remaining Ganesh statues will be submerged into the lake near our apartment. Sitting on my bed in my apartment I can hear the processions already.
Tuesday is a new holiday. Isn't India grand?
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