Irrelevant details from life

'Bonjour', said the man behind the huge flat pan as he saw me meditating over his crepes. I was almost enchanted at the way he circled out a thin crepe over the huge pan. The crepe of the same diameter as that of the pan, which was three times the normal dosas I have seen back home. I had been looking intently at how he poured the batter, flattened the batter into a nice circle with the help of a flat wooden rod with a stick in its centre. Moving that equipment, clockwise first and anticlockwise next. Then flipping the crepe up, sprinkling sugar and caramel and folding it neatly like a thin handkerchief or a napkin.

I looked up completely startled by his 'Bonjour' and was more puzzled to see his enquiring eyes. Ah! I just smiled dumbly and walked away. Linus had a good laugh. He said I was staring so hard, it had probably unnerved the fella. All I could explain to him - it was such a lovely sight. He said, you must be hungry. And we headed to Mc. D.

There is little choice for food for vegetarians. Even the cheese is not really vegetarian. It has something from the calf's stomach. When I had enquired for a vegetarian cheese, I recieved a puzzled and amazed look. Fromage (cheese in French), it is Fromage! Period. Can cheese be non vegetarian!!

Well, a vegetarian by birth, I often wonder why people are non vegetarian. And people, my friends tell me, 'what possibly can you eat! just grass and flowers!' 'Is it because of religion', J had enquired during a dinner hosted by us. No, it just runs into our family. And what if your children want to eat, Mc Chicken! Hmm, I smile and imagine a dozen brats, eating Mc. Chicken. I can only tell them to brush their teeth, I tell J. He smiles, oh just brush the teeth. That sounds reasonable.

Children, ah! I must be quite old by now, to even comprehend the thought that 'kid' can be someone else other than me. Hmm, children, what strange creatures they are. Half your size and they make you run around like crazy. The other day, a little girl about 5 had come to my apartment with her mother. I had to divide my attention while talking to the mother and rushing in between to save my laptop on which she was pounding her hands madly and rescue the remote which she hurled in air while in an excited stupor of having discovered 'tom and jerry channel'.

Sometimes I think children have this perfect world of freedom. Unadulterated by thougths of shame, or concept of nudity. I have read that one of the most common dreams that people have is, where they find themselves in company without an appropriate attire. While that little girl feels absolutely nothing as she runs around with her bare bottom.

While I look for freedom of expressions among women wearing what they want, mini skirts and halter necks, or random muses posted in internet, I see those naughty pair of eyes looking back at me with a quizzical look. Mocking at me, saying FREEDOM COMES From a wild spirit!! Perhaps I am imagining those eyes quizzing me. She just must be wondering when will I give her the chocolate that she has earned after having recited all the rhymes and telling me her name, father's name and all telephone numbers at her momma's prodding. 'Smart girl naa', the momma shining with pride exclaims.

I wonder if having a child would make it a different world for a woman. 'Having kids is a full time job', the exasperated mom had exclaimed while I was glowering at the little one for behaving like THIS. At her statement I just wondered, it must mean: No more afternoons filled with silence or just the noises from the street. No more the loneliness punctuated by the incessant chirps of sparrows or staring at the arch of a gate of a villa just by the lake. And looking at the water through that arch.

Proabably I could just have a Siamese Cat, and name it Kathmandu. It would be a less than full time job, I smile at myself.

A cat or a baby... oh both are such a chore. But a baby will grow up. And if I believe what A had said, will cease to be a family. A is an English lady. The cat (she had a Siamese cat called Kathmandu), will be hard to handle. If you are traveling or working, you can't leave them alone for long. They get anxiety or bouts of loneliness and feel sick.

I should be feeling like Kathmandu sometime. I must investigate if I have those bouts of loneliness. Or perhaps, it must be different, some other poetic melancholy, that is essential to churn out a good post!