And you enter the loo. And it is small. And the light is dim. Most of the flow finds it way into the hole in the ground, rather than the porcelain cavity.
Continue reading ‘But what to do. The only loo they have. Happy World Toilet Day!’
And you enter the loo. And it is small. And the light is dim. Most of the flow finds it way into the hole in the ground, rather than the porcelain cavity.
Continue reading ‘But what to do. The only loo they have. Happy World Toilet Day!’
Never have I missed the opportunity to cast my vote. General Education Academy plays host on election day, be it central or state. And dry days begin a couple of days prior. Oft, I’ve run into neighbors at the polls. I met Dr. Akshay in 1999, the first time ever that I’d voted. “Hello, Geoffery, have you come to vote?”
Yesterday, I met the Gautam mother and daughter, strong supporters of the RSS. And Mr. Jay; a Congressman.
On certain festivals etc. the sale of liquor is prohibited. Such a phenomenon is slated in as a ‘Dry Day’. In India at least. I’m not sure if such an injustice is bestowed upon the citizens of other countries.
Ross is our assigned stockist. Or at least, he has taken this responsibility upon himself. So be it a popular Indian festival or Independence Day or Mahatma Gandhi’s birthday, trust Ross to have enough beer for everybody. Alcohol starts pouring in from afternoon over board games and X-box.
Continue reading ‘“Tomorrow is a dry day. Please do the needful.”’
I found this, the only bar close to the bus station at Alibaug. A good four minutes walk from it, in fact. And one other close to the bypass, some ten minutes away, by foot. It is interesting to compare liquor prices with Mumbai.
Master Jatashankar taught the boys Hindi, in school. Master Jatashankar spoke bad English, to say the least, and often cracked indecent jokes about Lilly, the sexy English teacher, who’d wear her skirts to school, exposing knee to ankle. Jatashankar’d be rude to his students at times, all dialogues in Hindi:
“Yes, second row, second last bench, if you want to laugh, laugh at home, in front of your lowlife mother, and lowlife father, and not in my class.”
I drink beer. Mild beer. Kingfisher, Carlsberg. I don’t like Budweiser, Fosters. Thursday, last, for the first time in Bombay, Tuborg, the beer I’d heard about aplenty, this, one from my first buy, of four:
Christmas celebrations at a Goan family’s house in Bombay, India
Merry Christmas, everyone!
“Kevin! Don’t eat the Shankarpalis. We have to go to church! After church you eat!”
“But I want! I want!”
“Kevin! Behave yourself! I’ll tell dada to beat you with belt? I’ll tell him?”
“Shaaaks, bugger.. he should take baclofen!”
“What’s that?”
Continue reading ‘“Bugger, he has found a miracle cure for alcoholism!”’
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