baby

returning back from chicago to mplis, i saw the same lady (who spoke german to her two year old) with her two year old again !! this time the baby was crying loudly- the poor thing- as her mom was trying to stuff her strollers and bags into the already full luggage bins, just like last time and just as flustered. and she left her on the seat by herself just like last time. so i guess it is her baby-nature :)

reading kiran desai's inheritance of loss. it sparkles.i think she has inherited the same gift for writing, the same evocative description and a way with words that her mother (one of my, if not the favourite indian-english writers) has. "pigeons shuttlecocking along the hallways", "cauli-flowering in the brain", "lascivious subway breath peering up skirts" and it goes on. it is set in lush kalimpong where she must have spent her childhood and i am sure a lot of it is her own experience especially the interactions with the cook and the anglicized bongs and the gurkhas and the tibetans. all of it has a ring of familiarity if you have visited one of the NE hill stations but yet it is still so refreshingly described.

and she even uses one of my favourite words- borborygmus (besides gems like circination and eructation and a host of lovely, esoteric nouns and adjectives). the sometimes ostentatious display of vocabulary is reminiscent of cry, the peacock, which is still my favourite anita desai novel.