Saturday, March 06, 2004


The Ex is here, right; I had to go to the train station twice before I found him (I was given many different train timings from live peope and the Internet, all of which were wrong; of course he'd been standing there the whole time). He was waiting with some rickshaw drivers. He told them he was looking for his friend. "What is her name?" "C---" he answered. "Chicago!" the driver replied; apparently he knew *exactly* who I was..... Although I am invisible to westerners (The Eastern Block kirtan dirge guy ate at *my* chappati place in *my* neighborhood the other night and saw me on the way out and looked at me dumbly and said, "You go to Pattabhi?" No duh -- I've seen you there and over coconuts EVERY SINGLE DAY for the past month not to mention at parties -- I even know which is your favorite shirt, for Crissake) yet somehow Indians are able to see me. "I see pale people." All the locals seem to know me / monitor my movements. "Nice scooter," remarked the guy at Nilgiri's the other day, adding, "Prashanthi" Note to self: Limit public tantrums.

So I took The Ex to Aunty's for lunch and while walking down the very long gangway past other people's houses to her kitchen I turned around to find him sprawled on the ground, stars flying around his head (he's very cartoonlike). Apparently he didn't duck under one of the many very low cement doorways and nailed himself hard. Aunty came running, "Put water! Put water!" Did I mention it's a full moon today?

Later I was on my way here, to the scary sneezy stinky slow sweaty unsteady internet place, and saw some kids throwing colors on each other (for Holi; see yesterdays entry). So instead of walking here I got on the scooter and flew past them before anything untoward could happen.....but it ain't really over til the fat lady eats her yogurt, dons her earplugs and goes to sleep, is it.

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