Shillong and back

Recently returned from Shillong where Jamie and I went in service of our geekdom- we both presented a paper for the ISFNR (International Society for Folk Narrative Research) seminar held at NEHU. That aside, I loooved going back to Shillong with its many varieties of chinky faces from all over the NE, the locals with their staccato accents, the ever-present nip in the air, the bustle of PB, the food, ohhh, the food!

Granted, I havent been anywhere much, but of all the places Ive been, Shillong has the best Chinese food. Bought mutton momos daily from a Tibetan restaurant managed by this Tibetan dude who Jamie proclaims has a certain way of looking at you that would make you blush. I wouldn't know- Im in a happy twosome so am above flirtatious looks, twalalla. But the momos, oh, the momos, served with their brand of chili sauce...

And the roadside food- friends have often made fun of my lack of qualms when it comes to roadside food because I have absolutely no hygienic standards. Whether its buying food manned by a Kong with kwai-stained mouth or by a lad with a trickle of snot hanging dejectedly from his nose, I love them all. Capsicum stuffed with egg whites and mashed potatoes, dipped in flour and fried, eggs coated in potatoes and fried, tiny morsels of pakora and roadside chai, Im game for em all.

And alu muri!! Without the muri! A concoction of boiled potatoes, raw papaya, diluted tamarind water, masala, coriander leaves, chili, black salt, a dash of lemon, oil and onions- its roadside food nirvana, a gastrorgasmic treat. Yum. And a half. And another half. (Thas me eating the alu on the roadside, with my bare hands- in the way that roadside food should be eaten) The thing about Shillong is, almost everyone speaks English so there is not much need for me to air my very rudimentary Hindi. But with the alu-man, I insist on doing it, I dont know why. "Bhaiya, khale alu, 15 rupees hai. Zyada pyas, mirchi, namak, tel, zyada EVERYTHING. Do packet packing hai, ek packet panch rupee, aur ek packet dos rupee hai". Its the butchery of the Hindi language taken to extremities, but we always understand each other perfectly. And because they think Im making the effort to talk their talk, they always give me a little extra. They do!
And friends say he (and the puchchka-man, ohhh the puchchka!!) prolly scratch their heads and their balls with the same hand they use to make their alus, but I dont mind. Besides, I dont think they'll let chilly-crusted hands too near their nether regions, so nyah nyah to you.

Strolling through the city and laughing at the signs that warns you to "Commit no nuisance here!" or the menu board in a dingy restaurant that proclaims, "Drink wine in side strickly prohibited. Drink water", or the ones that forbiddingly say, "Do not cough". Yes, that establishment really does prohibit coughing. I didnt go there, since I have a permanent cough, but my friends did, and no, they didnt cough. Wonder what the establishment would do to coughers.. And I love that sign there, from the restroom in the said dingy restaurant. Pictorial language at its best.

I love travelling. I sleep through all the bumpy parts, bobbing my head and sometimes, sleeping with my mouth wide open because the maxi-cab seats aren't exactly foetal position-friendly. And I love the food. We had lunch at Sonapur, pic is of the Sonapur river. The river's all blue because they treat it with chemicals from the factories or something. Looks rather tropical, doesnt it? They served fish caught from the river. We wanted to take a pic on the bridge, so while our travel mates were busy sitting off their heavy lunch, we trekked off towards the bridge. We passed a convoy of army trucks and we waved and saluted them, much to their delight. It also made our day. Such a simple little gesture, and yet so smile-inducing, though I dont recommend doing it when you're at a desolate place at night.

Tried to smuggle in a can of beer for my sister. Was caught by the border excise. Gave him a conciliatory smile, saying it was only the one can , so please, please, please. He said it wasn't fair, but yeah, smiles do work, I suppose, cos he let me through with my can of beer, yay! Reached home. Discovered I had acquired a double-chin, love handles and a protruding belly and also lost my cheekbones. A week's worth of sitting all day and snacking half the night would do that to you. My hair had also decided to acquire a strange parting which emphasised my newly gained pounds, so now I look like a dowdy frump. Correction: A well-fed, contented dowdy frump.

I love Shillong, I love travelling- but the best part about travelling is coming home. To Aizawl with its narrow roads, its congested traffic, its horrible infrastructure. Yet home it is, Aizawl and its "zun"- its particular brand of charm that takes hold of you and makes you its own so that you cant imagine yourself calling any other place home.