I woke relatively early this morning – well before my alarm at least – and decided to head over to the Chetak to use the high-speed wi-fi. Out on the street pockets of puddles gave evidence to a night of rainfall; it seems the monsoon is back. The street is fairly quiet on Sunday mornings, especially before Pune Central is open. There were several families out walking, a group of older women gathered at the gate of the Hare Krishna temple wrapped in their red and white sari’s and a single motorcycle speeding down the street that was transporting a tall bamboo ladder. When I arrived at the Chetak I ran into Debbie from NYC who said the wi-fi was spotty that morning. We tried for about half an hour to connect to the internet to no success. The clerk claimed it had something to do with the rain, so Deb and I decided to take a trip down to Laxmi Road instead and find a shop that sells fabric – a dangerous venture for me. I ran home to put away my computer and grab a snack and see if Kathy wanted to come as well. Kathy and I grabbed a rickshaw then rode over to the Chetak to retrieve Deb. The rickshaw driver pulled up into the driveway to provide front door service and then we were off to Laxmi Road. Deb told the driver she was in search of a place called High Fashion.
” Acha – fashion, Laxmi Market” he smiled and wobbled his head.
“Great! He knows where it is!” Deb exclaimed. The driver made a few more turns then pulled up next to a green and yellow gate that blocked Laxmi Market from the road.
“Fashion, fashion,” he gestured at the tables of shoes and clothing aligned for as far as the eye could see. Not the shop we were looking for exactly, but we decided we might as well investigate. We had arrived at an optimal time, vendors were setting up their tables and there were few shoppers. We wandered from stand to stand and each collected a few small items. Eventually we reached the Gandhi fabric shop, my favorite place by far in Pune, where shelves upon shelves are aligned with bolts of fine cottons and silks. I restrained the urge to collect more fabric – I made a trip here earlier in the month and purchased a few yards of this and a few yards of that. We inquired about the High Fashion and learned we were remarkably close. A few minutes later and one road crossing we were there, though the sign read Hy Fashion. I was interested in acquiring a few more Indian-style shirts for my upcoming travels but everything I liked was either too small in the shoulders or too big everywhere else. I think that my head is pretty average-sized yet some of the shirts had a hole for a head that only a dolls head would fit through. I left empty-handed. All this shopping was making me hungry so we ventured over to MG road for lunch, a clean restroom and Dorabjee’s – a western supermarket and travelers delight. Kathy and I ordered fresh lime sodas, she wanted sweet and mine was to be a little sweet/a little salty. Something went wrong between the ordering and the preparation because when they came out they tasted like the Mediterranean. We sent them back and requested that the ingredients be brought individually to the table and we would assemble the drinks on our own. The rest of the meal didn’t really make up for that start- our Nan and parathas were undercooked and the food came out of the kitchen cold. I didn’t expect the same quality or service I accustomed to at the places I frequent around the Institute, but it is a restaurant after all and the tables were full of Indian diners with plates of hot food.
From the restaurant we headed down the street to the Bombay Store which is like an Emporium of fine handicrafts, clothing and souvenirs from around India. And finally to Dorabjee’s which had expanded five-fold since my visit in 2005. I was tempted to indulge in cheeses, chocolates and other imported goods but fortunately I’ll be heading out of Pune in a few days and I didn’t want to be carrying a bunch of food with me. I bought a Ritter Sport (chocolate bar from Germany) and some lip gloss. By the time we were ready to leave the rain was coming down in full force. Upon arriving home I put on my shin-length vinyl rain coat covered in daisies and headed out to buy papayas for the next two days. Mr. Singh asked about where I was from and if I was here to do yoga. We had a pleasant conversation and I told him that next time I come to India I’d do my best to speak to him in Hindi. I’m going to miss Mr. Singh!
The photo is of my fabric dealer at the Gandhi cloth shop.
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