Indian Samurai इंडियन सामुराई

In the same vein than my last note (cf) my friend organized a dinner with a friend of friend she met in Malaysia.... I was already not so motivated (this kind of plan with Indians does not inspire anything too good to me, question of experiences). And then she sent me a picture she had found facebooking his name: 

 I roared with laughter. No kidding! It must be a mistake, or else a joke! Well, no.

 

In the evening, I checked: I already had a doubt because she had told me she had found only one person with this name. Even if it is a very funny name, among 1.2 billion, there are necessarily more than one...

And when I facebooked the same, a dozen profiles came up! She found one she liked: "Hey it would be nice if it was him". And me: “Don’t get too excited, this is Shahid Kapoor on the picture!”*

In short it will be a surprise....

 

For the curious readers the surprise was not bad.

Even if the outcome was no different than the one I was fearing: it is apparently really hard to resist the white sirens' song ...**

 

* Note of myself: a Bollywood star.

** It is actually just an image, no need to be a siren, nor to sing, to be perceived as an easy "fuck". Yep there is some bitterness here, but not too much!

My French friend came to visit me in Delhi.

 

She gave me a big kick in the ass, "forcing me" to go out, socialize (I also have been a super wing-woman for her!) etc. The moment she landed, she bought Times Out, highlighted stuff and we were out! Which also created a few funny situations.

 

Let's start with the free trial class of zumba. We decided to meet one evening at 16A Lajpat Nagar. I told her that it was probably a printing mistake; it had to be A16 (and therefore block A). After twenty minutes of rounds, we landed outside a gym (at the A16); the kind of gym where you wish you would never go: in a basement, maximum 40 square meters, a sign that makes the mouth water: 

My friend told the reception guy that we had come for the free trial class of zumba. No spark of understanding in his dull eyes. She tried again. He offered us to go to the changing room. We almost did but it was not clear where the class would take place after that since the room was filled with machines.

To cut the story short, I stepped in. As I often say, to be polite, a French has to be extensively polite and make this kind of extended sentences: "Would you be kind enough to pass me the milk please?". While in India, no need  of such tumid questions. The best way to ask for milk is to say: “Milk?”. If the sentence is too long you may lose the attention of the person you are talking to and in any case, it is not rude to go straight to the goal. I have to say, I still find people rude sometimes, but this mainly due to the tone of voice they use, especially when they treat waiters as slaves. But I guess if you have a nice tone, just saying a word is not impolite. So guess what I asked the brainless bodybuilder I was facing?? "ZUUUUUMMMMBAAAAAAAAAAAAA".

Can’t say I had the right tone that time but I was getting pretty irritated by the whole joke!!

And then guess what?? He got it!! "Ha!. No, no zumba here! ".

 

We would not give up. After a long search (a cycle-rickshaw and a ten minutes’ walk), we found the 16A, cursing the magazine for not putting the name of the street (and for once the street had a name!!). We arrived in a nice ultramodern (but empty) health farm!

And, finally, I could not escape my first class of zumba...

The hundred rupee question...

Question that can be legitimately ask me after five and half years but that annoys me no less. Since I don’t have the answer.

 

However, what I can say is that despite all the warnings of Mumbaite friends, Delhi is a city fairly "easy" to live in.

Cleaner, more spacious, more fluid, more cultural than Mumbai.

Less accessible (nothing can be reached on foot), less dynamic (everything closes early), less populated (even if the numbers are equivalent, there is not the same feeling of overcrowding), less open on the horizon (obviously the sea is not there), less secure at night... To cut it short two completely different cities...

 

Finally, as I am used to say, it is not the location that makes the place but rather the people you meet... And so far the Delhiites I met are rather cool!

 

When I moved to Mumbai, I thought I would never get used to the moisture. Feeling sticky all the time was not really my cup of tea, having bed sheets smelling of mushrooms either. And finally? I looked at my household tools get rusted one after the other. I learned to eat moldy bread. In short I did get used to it.

 

And in Delhi I feel hot. I feel very hot. I feel very very hot. I get up with nausea because I feel so hot. I hardly eat because I feel so hot. I'm tired because I feel so hot. Enough complaining let us talk about this next summer!!

 

And I am not kidding, see what happened to my candles!!