Lapses of lingy…

In the midst of an editorial meeting, today, the agonising wail of a street dog travelled at lightening speed from the parking lot to the second floor of the building. A little black and white mongrel was lying under the wheel of a car, in incredible pain, its right leg, smashed.

It continued howling in pain. So, I called up animal shelter Friendicoes who said they would try and send their ambulance soon. I went looking for my colleague S who is a fierce dog lover, so, fierce she would risk being bitten to save a little one from hurting. She was already on top of things; the organisation was sending a helper who would capture the dog, and they would transport it in her car to the centre, where medical facilities would be available.

In the meantime, the hurt little fellow was lying in a corner, S’ driver keeping watch, and with good reason. A brawny chap started poking around, and S called out to him sternly from her vantage point on the 2nd floor. He was shooed away. When the helper arrive, his intentions were no doubt, good, but he wasn’t exactly qualified to deal with an antagonised (and possibly hungry) street dog. The injured one snarled suspiciously and yelped in pain. A spray of pee dotted the footpath, the pee of fear, and he scuttled off into a corner. A huge crowd of curious folks gathered.

Someone offered milk, some were tickled by the spectacle, that of people trying to save a mere street dog, when people died on the streets every day. We shooed those who were not contributing in any manner, away. The helper got busy, but with no luck. Finally, a chap who worked at the neighbouring kiosk turned up. At first we doubted his intentions as his manner was a little rough. But then he caught hold of the dog, and bundled him in the trunk of S’ car, and they were off to the venue. But not before S gave the driver, the perpetrator of the crime a big lecture. He was a driver, who didn’t express any sort of emotion, negative or positive. It was just another day in the parking lot, for him.

Coaxing the dog into a cage at the centre took more time. Post work S was off to check on his progress; such is the dedication of this dog-lover, putting the rest of us canine-lovers to shame.

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Enjoyed a charmed weekend after a long sabbatical from charmed weekends, and reaffirmed three ‘old new’ friendships, too. I met all these folks in Delhi. One is an affectionate Punjabi, who hails from the city. Another, just like me, relocated from Mumbai to Delhi for work. The third, is originally from Jaipur, but Delhi is now home, courtesy work.

Dilli Haat is a treat for handicraft junkies, and I have visited a couple of times and picked up quaint pieces of this and that, for my house. But visiting it with a gal, who knows her crafts exceptionally well, makes for a much more productive shopping expedition. Between the Orissa and Tripura stalls, her accent altered considerably, and she metamorphosed from a petite gal with deceptively mousy disposition, into a force to be reckoned with on the bargaining table.

We picked up melt-in-your-mouth homemade honey that does not crystallise when at freezing point, and a pair of wooden candlesticks with snatches of mosaic. They looked a little worn out, which in fact gave them more character. I could easily visualise Cinderella using them to find her way around the attic, somewhere in the European countryside, in the days of no electricity. We had fruit beer and momos at the Shillong stall, and my friend, with childlike enthusiasm picked up sticks of flaming pick old lady’s hair, and spread the love by offering one to me, too.

The next morning, I was supposed to team up with a friend for a run at the Deer Park and then breakfast at the India Habitat Centre. But it was such a lovely, chilly morning, that we decided to skip the run and just head for breakfast at IHC.

The All American Diner has a BIG, FAT breakfast buffet, with all things fattening and yum-yum; bacon, eggs, sausages, smoked cheese, pate, quiche Lorraine (veg and non-veg), croissant, idli sambar, frittatas, terrines, canapés, kiwi, watermelon, toast, juices, mushrooms, peppers….phew! Don’t eat for a week before you head here. People were heading for 4ths and 5ths. And we are all going to carb hell!

The damages are Rs 395 + tax, which ultimately amounts to about Rs 500 per head. I won’t say that they have the most memorable food, but they do have the most attractive pricing. Unlimited cheese and meats, music from the 50’s and a breakfast in the sunlight, on a chilling winter morn. It’s bliss.

Post, we visited a photography, sculpture and porcelain exhibition, the latter being the most interesting. All these very exotic creations made by all kinds of porcelain techniques. I liked the paper porcelain work, which had this feathery touch to it, and which looked like it would fold any moment, but is in truth hard as a knuckle. The work was beautiful, but the artist was a grouchy old bag. Nevertheless, I bought this gorgeous porcelain neckpiece. And we walked and walked and walked in the gorgeous morning sun. The weather was perfect; chilly ‘n’ sun.

I have decided to dispense with a cook. They get catty after a while, and never understand the difference between flavour and spice/ grease. So, I picked up some spring onions, white pepper and chilly flakes, ginger, chicken and coconut milk and voila…a comforting chicken recipe that needs no tomato. Now, it may sound like I am showing off my newly developed culinary interest/ skill…but my Punjabi friend did seem to like it. She had two BIG helpings, and she’s not a girl with a big appetite, typically.

Mmmmmmmmm….

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