Though a turnover can be interesting and unsettling (try tasting and then making pineapple turnovers and apple turnovers), I have doubts whether they could be called adventurous. Regardless however, turnovers happen without us having the slightest inclinations in making them happen. For, I have a can of pineapple in my pantry but the least possible thing I'm thinking of doing with it is a pineapple turnover cake. I would rather make a pineapple plastic chutney, or better still, just serve/eat it raw. But then, who can say......?
Even 6 months back, neither me or Supratim had any idea how our lives would take a turnover by being in Toronto. Whenever we think Toronto, or any city for that matter, the business area or the downtown becomes representative, owing to their supposed appeal of tall buildings. Like this picture, for example:
And the above pic conveniently negates the maddeningly fast paced life, the Calcuttan feel you're bound to get at times, the newmarket seller-like mentality of the people, the road accidents, the absolutely fabulous vegetation (this might sound as too "white" but then the trees are wonderful), the rudeness of the city, the booklovers, the people who lets you live and exactly that, and the engulfing and absorbing experience one is drawn into.This is only tip of the experience, and you can't blame me, as I'm only a few days in.
Yet, with the grumbling acceptance of the early-to-bed and early-to-rise habit that we are compelled into, and the surprise at the incivility of a North American city, somehow, among all these, Calcutta flashes by now and then....... sans the khistis and mejaj, but complete with the thelathelis and continuous running (to somewhere and God know why so fast), as well as the impassive faces.
No, not in the way when people climb moving and perfectly working escalators as well as run on anything moving. If you just stand on an escalator, you would hear very visible jeers and face haughty stares for "blocking the way". And when you get down or up, the metro is dirtier than Calcutta metro, much more so (and you would feel another misplaced pride and all that), but also thank the people who do not stare onto you because you look different from the dominant/mainstream ethnicity. The city's not a melting pot, but a big pot that accommodates.
The other day I heard a little white kid say "tata"....to her familar face closeby. Cabs are familiarly called "Taxi" (We know they are always named Taxi, but to call them "taxi" is...well...more relaxing). Moreover, although after 5-6 years of stay in Canada "Thank you-s and Sorry-s" get under your skin, Toronto presents you the opportunity not to put your sunny side up when you are not feelin' like it! This is as much about "Live and let live" as possible. Therefore, as long as I get a hint of home now and then, I ain't complainin'!I guess, sometimes, when you turn it over, things remain the same.
Encounters with random passengers on the train reading Khaled Hosseini or Pamuk or playing games on a palmtop or even a mouth organ, makes you feel the vibe, the pulse, and the existence of life that that so often is missed in a cold and alienated foreign country.
Oh...you also get red and yellow mangoes in 50 cents (each) here. More about that later!
