The landlady, a Muslim from India, decides that she needs to
give us a gift because our daughter and son-in-law have been good tenants.
Besides, she and her husband were invited to our granddaughter party and
treated just like all other friends.
Her idea of giving something back involves purchasing a
Tulsi plant for us, because Hindus revere it. Her plan has two issues. First,
we are both atheists and our daughter’s visiting mother-in-law is a Sikh. None of us care for a Tulsi plant. However, it
is the thought that counts. The other issue is that she has no clue what a Tulsi
plant looks like. Her solution is simple. Get a few plants that may include a Tulsi plant and present
them to us so we can choose. The Bengali shopkeeper down the street does not
mind lending plants for trial. The problem is we too have no idea what the
Tulsi plant looks like. Confusion ensues. In the end, one plant is arbitrarily anointed
and honored. Everyone is happy.
By this time the landlady is distracted by an elderly
Chinese woman who is making her daily rounds. She is pushing a cart filled with
used bottles. “She knocks on people’s doors, but only the first floor,” says
the landlady. “She can not climb stairs, so she will not bother you.” However,
the mother-in-law sees a solution to the problem of disposing off bottles and
cans from the granddaughter’s birthday party. So she shouts in Punjabi at the
Chinese lady. Soon the elderly Sikh and Chinese ladies meet and makes a
transaction of used bottles and cans. Everyone is happy.
It is time to go for a walk with our granddaughter and the
mother-in-law. We encounter a group of Muslim girls wearing Hijabs. They are
looking at a poster and giggling. It is a poster for Kool cigarettes. The girls
take pictures of each other in front of the poster. Perhaps, this is the height
of naughtiness permitted in their households.
At the playground, there are lots of kids and parents,
grandparents and nannies. Our granddaughter is drawn to a couple of white
skinned kids, with orange afro hair. They are a little older than our
granddaughter, and most likely twins. An elderly black lady is in charge of
them. “Are you their grandmother,” asks the mother-in-law, in proper English
accent. Bad question to ask. She is their mother.
On the way back, we encounter a couple of Hasidic kids with
their traditional dreadlock hair. “What happens to them when they get old and
become bald?” asks the mother-in-law. I confess that I have no idea. Perhaps
they get a wig, or they let go that part of their ritual. The mother-in-law
seems satisfied by the answer.
Before getting back, the mother-in-law purchases a bunch of
flowers for our daughter and son-in-law. However, her gift is not heartily
accepted because our son-in-law suffers from severe allergies. The family
discusses what the options are.
In front of the apartment, a couple of Chinese women are
busy tending to their small garden. Perhaps the flowers can be re-gifted to
them for being good neighbors. Perhaps they would be willing to take care
of our newly acquired Tulsi plant as well. Everyone would be happy J
