09/19/2010
When Norman tries to escape
What do you do when your cat decide to jump through the window in India ??
I entered the living room the other day and heard Norman meowing for help. It was coming from the window but I could not believe it. I live on the 5th floor and if he were to fall, he would not survive…
But he was there, on the cornice, 2 meters down below.
Do not panic…
What do you do in such situation? Firelighters? I don’t have the number and my neighbour hates me guts. On top of that firefighters most probably don’t have a ladder high enough.
Take a picture??
Of course no! It is a montage!!
First thing: to put on some clothes. I am in my bedclothes (tee-shirt & panties) and I need a short and sweater. I have been living in India for too long… Who cares about getting dressed when your cat is on a cornice on the 5th floor??
Second thing: fight with the lock of the window grid – it had the time to get rusted with the never-ending monsoon we just had…
And then what? Call the watchman? He is probably scared of cats anyways… I have watched the AC guy going down on the cornice so I assume I can do it too! And here I am, climbing down… Under the amazed gaze of my neighbour…
No damage, only a big scare. But what a scare!!!
07:56 Posted in My stories in India | Permalink | Comments (0) | Tags: india, norman, cat, window | Facebook | |
09/17/2010
Dijon
The first time I heard it, I roared with laughter (maybe only the French will find it funny but still):
"hey can you pass me the Dijon please?"
The what?? Ahhhhhhhhhhh! The mustard of Dijon!! So this is how you call mustard in India... By the name of the city where it is originally made!! Well it makes sense in a way, they call "Kolhapuris" the shoes made in Kolhapur for instance...
And the other day, what do I see in the menu?? "Pomfret Dijon"... A fish cooked in mustard then...
08:16 Posted in Non-senses | Permalink | Comments (0) | Facebook | |
09/15/2010
On the sea side
Last Friday (Eid), I decided to enjoy the first sunrays of the end of the monsoon by lazing on a bench on the Bandra promenade (Carter Road).
And here I was. My (recently washed) hair in the wind, my aviator sunglasses on my nose, Sweet Things by U2 playing at maximum volume in my cask. I open my eyes, the sea, nothing else. And then, a head pops up. Then a bare ass. Then two hands pulling up a pair of trousers. Then a second head, a second ass, a second pair of hands.
Fuck man.
What about poetry??
08:14 Posted in My stories in India | Permalink | Comments (0) | Tags: inde, mumbai, carter road | Facebook | |