"What a lovely pair of earrings!"

They're coming here. For what it's worth, I'm looking forward to listening to BBC's Test Match Special. This is wonderful news.

There's other superb news as well, which is why there's been very little blogging, but more on that some other time.

The Girl

A book reading by Sonia Faleiro and Shantaram was attended. He asked her pertinent questions and signed off with a warm endorsement of her writing. I've forgotten the words, but the gist remains: "Wonderful writer who will only get better. Good book." Said writer sat quietly with massive grin on face, which grew even more expressive when a moving question was asked.

Good luck, Sonia.

Voices

Once more a home comes alive. Voices have become deeper, some have become more self aware. They've grown up. Not a room is silent. Beds have piled up in a corner, halfway up the wall. The shoe closet is a sea of footwear, the ironing table is always hot. Somewhere between active relatives and tired relatives is a bride to be. She sits and sleeps and walks and jogs and talks like the rest of us, like it's a regular vacation. Were it not for the embroidered clothes and rustle of gift wrapped packages, no one would know she was on the verge of marriage.

The children play the fool when adults aren't around, and play adults when they are. Too eager. They can't wait to be adults. Just wait till they are. Then we'll see the fun.

A little late, but...

Here's Metblogs Mumbai, where I've resolved to blog more regularly. Here's my post on how pavements make for a happier city.

The Circus: Conversations

There is a wedding in the family. Twenty to thirty relatives are expected within the next five days. This is a good thing and a bad thing. It will mean saying goodbye to solitude for a little while, and it almost certainly means no decent writing can happen, but they will bring with them plenty of blogging material. Some of them are blogging material. The match-maker aunt, for instance. Wonderful lady, but if she smiles at you, it's because she has found you a match. There's an uncle so devastatingly unremarkable, we remember him by the bit role (2 seconds long) he had in a film. There are others, oh, there are others.

So we'll start off the 'Circus' series with a delightful back-and-forth that took place over the phone earlier today. These are the last three lines of a long conversation between a tired and screaming relative and the shopkeeper from whom she bought her faulty shoes:

"Couldn't you call and tell me this?! Why did I have to call you?!"

"You didn't give us your number. You said..."

"WHY COULDN'T YOU TAKE MY NUMBER, HUH?!"

It flu after the pills wore off

News from faraway lands: Sharjah.

An uncle took a breather from wedding preparations and lapsed into silence. But his thoughts were not with his daughter, nor the stacks of wedding cards.

"You know this bird flu thing? You know what they're doing in Sharjah? They're giving all the birds sleeping pills so their activities are restricted! Chariya. Bhendeya, chariya."

Indeed. Chariya.