Sunday, March 14, 2004
Ladoo cow
After a spectacular thali meal, that saw me scooping up unending quantities of rice and lentil dal and curry okra and spicy eggplant and crunchy popadum off a shiny banana leaf with my hand as the waiter hovered, ever-ready to pile seconds, thirds on my plate until I pleaded, no more, covering said leaf with hand.
So we are walking along, heading back to the “Sivaji” area, which is actually the old part of town. I spot the prettiest black-and-white and shiny-coated cow I have seen. I will grant that she was just my second; first cow sighting was around the time of morning when the reddish sunlight kisses the deities depicted on the roof of the Ram temple down the alley, granting rosy cheeks and pink bellies to all, prompting one of only two “I HAVE to grab my camera!” moments, thus far, as she lazily made her way from one mound of trash to the next. These lovely ladies know the routine, as she waited for the sweeper to do all the heavy labor for her, collecting all kinds of fragrant treats like a buffet lining either side of the narrow street.
I am brandishing a bag from Niligiri’s supermarket, containing a box of ladoos for the household, but also for me to sample since I can’t wait to have my first ladoos here- they are about my favorite sweet: like little suns about the size of your index finger and thumb giving the “OK!” signal, made of a syrupy concoction including gram flour and semolina, heavily spiced with cardamom and a host of other goodies and very reminiscent of the sweets I grew up on in Greece. So we are walking along, and I spot the prettiest black-and-white and shiny-coated cow I had seen. I will grant that she was just my second; first cow sighting was around the time of morning when the reddish sunlight kisses the deities depicted on the roof of the Ram temple down the alley, granting rosy cheeks and pink bellies to all, prompting one of only two “I HAVE to grab my camera!” moments, thus far, as she lazily made her way from one mound of trash to the next. These lovely ladies know the routine, as she waited for the sweeper to do all the heavy labor for her, collecting all kinds of fragrant treats like a buffet lining either side of the narrow street.
Here we are on a Friday night in Bangalore walking down a quiet street and this pretty cow is trotting along, about to overtake us. Now, I swore to myself that I would be good, and not go around chasing stray doggies and kitties to pat and give treats to. However, I don’t believe my solemn vows included these beautiful beasts. As a matter of fact, I distinctly recall NOT saying anything about cowsies. Plus, I don’t think you can actually get rabies from them. Naturally, I had to tear open that ladoo box. Photo opp number two, this trip. She knows what is coming, as her trot slows to an inquiring walk and her nose inches ever closer to my bag. I extend my palm and one perfect golden ball is duly inhaled faster than you’d think such a slow-moving animal is capable of, leaving a trail of black slime in her mouth's wake. I wipe the toxic sludge off my hand with an antiseptic wipe and a laugh, elated by the thrill and thankful for what seems like a lovely auspicious moment. Wash up with Dettol once home (a heavy duty antibacterial soap I remember being used in hospitals in Greece that I picked up from the super market here), pledge to do my best not to be reckless like that again. More than a few more times.
So we are walking along, heading back to the “Sivaji” area, which is actually the old part of town. I spot the prettiest black-and-white and shiny-coated cow I have seen. I will grant that she was just my second; first cow sighting was around the time of morning when the reddish sunlight kisses the deities depicted on the roof of the Ram temple down the alley, granting rosy cheeks and pink bellies to all, prompting one of only two “I HAVE to grab my camera!” moments, thus far, as she lazily made her way from one mound of trash to the next. These lovely ladies know the routine, as she waited for the sweeper to do all the heavy labor for her, collecting all kinds of fragrant treats like a buffet lining either side of the narrow street.
I am brandishing a bag from Niligiri’s supermarket, containing a box of ladoos for the household, but also for me to sample since I can’t wait to have my first ladoos here- they are about my favorite sweet: like little suns about the size of your index finger and thumb giving the “OK!” signal, made of a syrupy concoction including gram flour and semolina, heavily spiced with cardamom and a host of other goodies and very reminiscent of the sweets I grew up on in Greece. So we are walking along, and I spot the prettiest black-and-white and shiny-coated cow I had seen. I will grant that she was just my second; first cow sighting was around the time of morning when the reddish sunlight kisses the deities depicted on the roof of the Ram temple down the alley, granting rosy cheeks and pink bellies to all, prompting one of only two “I HAVE to grab my camera!” moments, thus far, as she lazily made her way from one mound of trash to the next. These lovely ladies know the routine, as she waited for the sweeper to do all the heavy labor for her, collecting all kinds of fragrant treats like a buffet lining either side of the narrow street.
Here we are on a Friday night in Bangalore walking down a quiet street and this pretty cow is trotting along, about to overtake us. Now, I swore to myself that I would be good, and not go around chasing stray doggies and kitties to pat and give treats to. However, I don’t believe my solemn vows included these beautiful beasts. As a matter of fact, I distinctly recall NOT saying anything about cowsies. Plus, I don’t think you can actually get rabies from them. Naturally, I had to tear open that ladoo box. Photo opp number two, this trip. She knows what is coming, as her trot slows to an inquiring walk and her nose inches ever closer to my bag. I extend my palm and one perfect golden ball is duly inhaled faster than you’d think such a slow-moving animal is capable of, leaving a trail of black slime in her mouth's wake. I wipe the toxic sludge off my hand with an antiseptic wipe and a laugh, elated by the thrill and thankful for what seems like a lovely auspicious moment. Wash up with Dettol once home (a heavy duty antibacterial soap I remember being used in hospitals in Greece that I picked up from the super market here), pledge to do my best not to be reckless like that again. More than a few more times.
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