Stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of people
Darsh and I trooped down to Little India on a whim. Deepavali was approaching and D suggested checking out the celebratory spirit in the heart of Serangoon. True enough, there were a sizeable crowd along the streets but most were bypassers, commuters, people working in the area rather than cheerful, jolly shoppers. Quite a spirit damper. Nevertheless, the lightings in the shape of white elephants and giant flowers sprinkle rays of vivid vibrance and energy on the narrow streets. Time seems to have stopped for this little stretch of road. Stocked to the ceiling with troves of merchandise, the shops were built in colonial style with a narrow walkway. Dazzling gold jewellery, fresh vegetable stalls, textile shops and CD stores are ubiquitous.
On the subject of textile, it's worth mentioning that the mannequin were reminiscent of eerie dolls from movie flicks. They wear the same blank look, the crop of unruly hair and an unrealistic barbie doll figure with a tiny waist. Some battery operated mannequin can even move their hands! I guess business will be more brisk if the shopkeepers change those blankfaced lifesized dolls for more subdued alternatives. Kate Moss may have popularised the gaunt, blank look in the 1980s wearing just a pair of Calvins but then, it's Kate Moss. Those dolls spook the living lights out of timid shoppers like me!
Secondly, I can never fathom why Bollywood can on hand, produce classic beauties like Rai and generate leagues of belly flaying uncle muthus shaking their bon bon in music videos. They are a complete juxtaposition of each other. D laughed when I presented my analysis of the current Bollywood scene. Those two people are indeed polar opposites on the same continuum. Well-shaped Indian celebs are from the glamourous, Hollywood-inspired Bollywood. Uncle Muthu is the head of Kollywood - the C-grade imitation of Bollywood. Now that makes sense.
I stuck out like a sore thumb at Serangoon and I half-joked to D that she's my protection charm. The girl gave a shrug and said she's as alien as I am. She can barely speak tamil to save her neck and she's as Indian as I'm a Maori.
Dinner was Indian vegetarian cuisine. I'm a newly converted weekday vegetarian and D was nice to accomodate my food preferences. After witnessing three embroyoes attached to a fallopian tube on a piece of chicken, I've lost all cravings for chicken. Pork has an acrid smell whereas I abstain from red meat. The only meat I eat sparingly on the weekend is fish. Coming back to Indian food, it's served in large portions, tremendously filling and full of carbohydrates. D said what we have are modest portions of the usual portions served to some other customers. Goodness! I had yogurt rice (with grapes, peas & carrots), nasi briyani, curry vegetable, spicy pickles and a mini flour doughnut. I only managed half a doughnut, a few scoops of rice, cleared the veggie and I was bursting at the seams. I confessed my plate looked untouched but the starch is so overwhelming!
Recounting the food I've eaten in the day after popping a listerine, I realised those carbo are no ordinary carbo. Before dinner, I only had coffee, two slices of wholemeal bread with cheese, a veggie pau and an energy bar. And I woke up at 5.40am to boot. The carbo still feel undigested now. =/
On a more somber note, D commented I should be very proud of myself. I didn't think too deep into it but if truth is to be spoken, I was estastic because the monetary strength of the scholarship will alleviate the financial burden on my parents. That is the primary reason I applied for the scholarship. As for being proud of myself, that's secondary. I guess it's justified to say the unhappy past that has haunted me is finally released. I'm free. Am I proud of myself? I suppose yes, I am.
posted by Michelle at
12:12 AM
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