DRIVING BACK home this afternoon, I was stuck in downtown traffic. I had just endured a grueling day at the Foreigners Regional Registration Office, and as I thought of the long, boring drive ahead, my brains began to sink.
That was when I decided to bewitch ten of my most charming friends with a bewildering text message. The words came in random to my rapidly-sinking mind. “Am looking for badumdum electrifiers. Do u know wer 2 buy them here?” I had no idea what on earth “badumdum electrifiers” were, but they did sound like my state of mind this afternoon. Or at least what my mind needed, to get out of its state. And so the message went to the friends. Their replies demonstrated their healthy sense of humor and good will, and made the long drive home a pleasure trip. They also saved my brains from sinking completely. #1: “Sorry. No idea.” #2: “No idea.” #3: “No, but you should try Lohar Chawl in town.” #4: “Never head of that. U have weird requests.” #5: “What?” #6: “I think u've lost it.” #7: “Saw them being hawkd on Linkng Road in Khar. R u well?” #8: “Wer r u?” Bliss!
Me: (silence)
Me: (silence)
Me: “Once I get them, I shall share with u.”
Me: “Oh. Once I get them, I shall share with u.”
Me: “Am planning Thai dinner. Will let u know.”
#5: “So what did that mean?”
Me: “Once I get them, I shall share with u.”
Me: “I shall use the badumdum electrifiers on u.”
Me: “Am electrified.”
Me: “Am electrified.”
#8: “No, I think ur bored.”

NESTLED AMONGST cottages in a quiet seaside village in suburban Mumbai is a pleasant surprise: a fabulous arts and crafts store called Tribal Route. It sells Indian stuff seldom found in the big sprawling concrete jungle of Mumbai (like contemporary terracotta sculptures that stand so precariously and huge incense sticks in such scents as coconut, strawberry, and ylang-ylang). I got a roughly finished Nepalese mask depicting some royal personage; it now sits prettily on my living room shelf with a Tibetan mask of a lama (Buddhist priest) that I found elsewhere.