The awesomeness of today's Unique Moment is a wonderful opportunity to break the silence of this blog. But I must warn you: this incident is shocking. It is disturbing. It is life-altering!

As I walked through my neighborhood I did feel a certain excess of interest in my person, but heat-induced flashes of Megalomania prohibited me from locating the source of this extra-interest. I just put it down to the Hot Mama Effect, and I don't know why I should not revel in it just a teeny-weeny bit. Or rather: i did not know. Because now i do!

But I did not find out until about an hour later. Until after presenting myself at various shops and parading through the entire neighborhood along my usual route. Just to make sure…
Until - at last!!! - a woman in the park kindly pointed out to me the fact that my trouser was torn at the back. You get the image of the sheer, white moon breaking through dark night clouds? That's the image everyone got.

This was a moment of revelation realizations.
Firstly, you understand the importance of that tiny moment in the day when you decide on your underwear.
Secondly, you instantly understand the merits of a witness protection program.
Thirdly, I think I want to die!

It was less of a wardrobe malfunction than a case of disproportionate love. I just loved these trousers so much that I have worn them to shreds. Now of course I have cast the offending garment out of sight, and no, I did not first have a look at the extend of the damage. I do not think the image of flashing skin could ever be erased from my memory. Speaking of which: I am sure there are ways of forgetting this incident. I think binge-drinking is one of them.

Wish me luck.

The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

Let me provide a very simple explanation for that one:

1. Summer is coming to Mumbai.

2. A/C conked out last night.

There you have it. Clear to one and all.

Breakfast is an awesome time to ponder the mysteries of the universe. It is only natural to uncover hidden truths while your daughter sits in her highchair, chomping on some bread with ham. Not entirely surprisingly, one or two pieces will somehow not make it to her mouth or they might hit the secret eject button and be tossed back into the world quite violently. That's where the modern food-chain chips in: Mr. Socks will already have positioned himself strategically: in the flight path of those juicy morsels. Mr. Socks loves ham! And he does love the occasional piece of bread or egg, too.

So there you have it: Rather than climbing to the top we have a simple reverse food-chain. And guess who knows to appreciate it!? Less work for me, too.

At first, I did not understand the rules of the game. Once I had understood them, I still could not manage to bring myself to be enthusiastic about Cricket or even pretend to be. It just took really, really long to get over with one game, and it seems that I suffered a severe lack of patience. No! Cricket, I realized, was not for me.

But then something happened. Owing largely to the fact that Bentley enjoys watching a game but is by no means crazy about it, we discovered the biggest advantage of Cricket: there is so much space! Imagine you can zip down the highway on a Saturday afternoon. Imagine you find an empty parking lot in the local mall on a Sunday evening! Exhilaration at the unexpected sight might give you a heart attack! Oh, but imagine you can actually talk to the sales staff without having to find ingenious ways of eliminating your opponents, i.e. your rival fellow shoppers. Imagine you can enjoy shopping and eating out or even just a leisurely walk stumble down any Indian road: that's the Cricket World Cup for you. And I love it! They can play this game all year round for all I care! As India beat Ireland last night, there was much less traffic and therefore much less honking on the tiny lane in front of our house. It was sheer bliss.

I am looking forward to India vs. South Africa next Saturday with unabashed glee and a smirk on my face, because Bentley and I will have the city to ourselves. If that was not romantic enough already, we have our eighth anniversary thrown in, too.

Don't I just love Cricket!

Picture this: I am taking Roma for our daily little evening walk. I am in the middle of explaining to her a beautifully shaped tree trunk with ants meandering along it when I spot the cliché that is India, crawling right by in front of us: A bullock cart.
If I remember correctly I am guilty of letting out a nice long shriek and went to chase the cart for Roma's amusement, since that poor city-baby hasn't yet had the chance to glance at many of those.
But is that it? -No, that is not it. After almost a decade in India I think I am past amazement induced by the mere sighting of a bullock cart, and I wouldn't blog about it either.
The bullocks with their colorfully painted horns adorned with bells were transporting a load of iron rods meant for some random construction site. And on top of this pretty oxymoron of past mixed up with present we had a chap sitting on top of it talking into his cellphone.
Yes, that is the living cliché. Naturally, after n years even such things become commonplace, but when you are out explaining the world to a toddler you bother to open your eyes again to the things that made you smile years ago, and so I couldn't be bothered about the rolling eyes and the snickers that met my wild chase of the bullock cart as I dashed down the road to provide Roma, all squeals and laughter herself, with the best possible view of this mix'n'match version of her birth country.