foodie geek

[Note on pic] When I invite people back to my place i'm inviting them back to the office.
Very homey- no? This is post Kali temple visit.

I was so looking forward to attending the Mexican film festival at the West Bengal Film Centre last night- a supposedly wonderful government sponsored (!) art house movie locale. Instead, however, I got a call from Neela, a friend of the Kolkata AIF Fellow from last year, inviting me to a Bengali fashion show. My hopes were really set on the movie festival, but I agreed to hang out with Neela so as not to squelch my future ability to have people with whom to hang out. But a fashion show?! Yikes! I barely have any clothing, let alone decent clothing to wear to a fashion show. I wore my one kurti and a pair of jeans (this is now my “nice” outfit), threw a shawl over my shoulder and took a taxi to 85 Landsdowne Street- a fashion house in the midst of a hood that doesn’t look like it would be home to an expensive and fashionable boutique and designer palace. So, indeed- the clothing was quite expensive (and much of it very beautiful too!). I walked around and felt all the fabrics, as I am wont to do. Neela seemed friendly but we didn’t have much to say to each other at first. I went upstairs to look at the fashions and get away from the non conversation. How odd to be in this fancy place, with all these designers, and Neela, a high class Bengali with lots of expat friends.

When I headed back downstairs Neela was talking to a bored looking guy with a mohawk (my favorite haircut of all time) and a taller mod guy with some sort of hair paste, giving his locks an i-just-rolled-out-of-bed look. The mohawk guy is from Manchester, and bartends at the Park Hotel. The hair paste guy (a sound recordist) and his wife (an artist) have lived in Calcutta for a few months, and are looking to do “charity work” after taking a year off. Later, a journalist friend of Neela's arrived. She is from Edinboro and currently works for The Statesman in Calcutta. Apparently this group is part of a much larger crew of people with very active social lives- Thursday beers at the British Counsel, art openings at the French Insitute, drinking and dancing on Park street, fashion shows, and there was some mention of flying off to France for the winter! I'm not sure my wardrobe and budget allow for all this cavorting with fancy people. I think I might also be too much of an introvert to constantly be around this crew. I wouldn't mind also finding some peeps who don't require hair gel and fancy clothes. Although, I guess I also need to remain open, right? I will fight myself on this one.

Later last evening, Neela’s advertising/writer friend from Mumbai showed up, and the three of us headed to another hood to grab some south India food. South Indian means veg food- dosas of all sorts. We walked into a small restaurant- Banana Leaf- where two women sat at a front table eating the largest dosas I have ever seen. The dosas were at least three feet long each- I kid you not. They were HUGE. The situation was a parity of itself. HUGE!! We also ordered dosas- three different types- but not of the three foot variety. First we had pancake-like dosas (round, thick and filled with veggies and “gunpowder,” which apparently means very spicy.) These came with tasty chutneys. Yum. We then ordered a dosa which was made from rice flour, and was nearly clear and shaped like a bowl. We also shared a triangular dosa, which was stuffed with mint (So very good!!) . Finally, we ordered dessert. I had something called patta or paata- not sure. It was AMAZING. So amazing. I get so excited about good food! It was a warm, thin, milk based pudding, with a couple of nuts, raisins, and sweet rose water thrown in. Damn! I am so excited just writing about paata. I am telling you now- I am going to gain so much weight in India. Be prepared for two times the former Marjorie to return to the US (unless malaria or the like strikes, of course). Or maybe 1.5 times. We’ll see.

Running at the garden, as an excercize option is officially nixed. Neela said that an industrialist was kidnapped while running at the horticulture garden. Thus, running has been banned there. Wha?? They banned running because some guy was kidnapped while running? That just doesn’t make any sense to me. Unless running is now the manner by which to indicate that one is being chased by kidnappers. Maybe that's the signal. That and yelling, “Help! I’m being kidnapped! Help me!” Anyway, let’s continue on with the rest of last evening. I should not make such jokes, which my mom doesn’t think are very funny.

After the meal, we walked to Kalighat. It's an exciting time to be in the streets, due to the upcoming pujas. People are out creating elaborate statues, buying clothing, flowers, bangles-everything. This is apparently the time of year when Bengalis go into debt, prepping for puja. We walked throughout Kalighat and saw M Theresa’s home for the dying. There were tons of people sleeping on jute maps outside the mission as well, and also a lot of people begging- mainly elderly women and children. We then went to the Kalighat temple. We had bought milk sweets outside the temple, and the temple dude took them from us to have them blessed, and walked us inside. We removed our shoes and he led us through a few doors to the statue of Kali. Lots of flowers draped the statue- marigolds mainly- water dripped from her mouth, and men were praying and touching the statue. One man was underneath the statue doing some sort of praying as well. Others were touching the statue and bowing, and one guy was blessing the visitors. He gave us each some of the dripping water to drink (I faked it) and put over our heads (I did that). He then blessed the sweets, gave us flowers, and put orange spots on our foreheads which were made from water, vermillion, and turmeric. I am going to have to read more about this ceremony in order to understand it.

This morning I brought the milk sweets into the office, to share with the staff. I offered them to each staff member, and put the rest in the kitchen for snacking later. Malika, one of the great women with whom I work, told me that the idea behind the handing out of the milk sweets is similar to the communion ritual in Catholicism. So, like a good priest, this morning I unknowingly walked around the office and handed out the host, which had been blessed at the temple. Oops!! Noone seemed offended, however; and I think it's a rather amusing culturally ignorant offense (although my reaction may be inappropriate due to my heretical propensity.)