ABU. To Be Who You Are. A. Manvayler
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Название: ABU. To Be Who You Are
Автор: A. Manvayler
Издательство: Издательские решения
Жанр: Современная русская литература
isbn: 9785449634016
isbn:
What to say, with this kind of study I acquired the basics as well as the nuances of the language extremely fast. I never felt bored with Abu and with joy I kept on living my fairy tale. Leading such lifestyle we were becoming more and more used to each other with full awareness of how lucky we were to meet. Morning chai was our favourite tradition. One day I slowly came into the kitchen to turn on the teapot, and sudden of all made eye contact with a small bug-eyed mouse. It was sitting on the shelf with powders and granulated products, where tightly closed plastic containers filled with spice and cereals were standing. The flour we bought just recently, unfortunately, turned out to be without a lid. This mouse had already made a mess of it quite a bit. I shouted loudly: “Abu! Come here! Fast! Look, there’s a mouse here!” Entered the kitchen, Abu acted in a moment, grabbed a stick from the nearest corner and struck the flour bag where the mouse was seating. For sure, the mouse was not in the mood to sit and wait for her sooner death and ran away as soon as it noticed Abu, furious like a lion. The next minute we both looked like two Yeti after an avalanche, and we were to clean the kitchen from the rest of the flour for the whole next two days.
Although, later we caught all the mice with a mousetrap, as a result – minus four mice and plus two pleased cats under our balcony.
We still had our chai straight on our balcony with the fresh-baked, soft and still warm bunswhich we bought from the street. Every morning an old man on the old, seen better days bicycle delivered them, honking a big rubber horn reminding a pharmacy syringe. With a rope we lowered a bag with cash and after raised it back already with the buns. Abu liked to eat them with salted butter and chai. It’s quite problematic to get unsalted butter in Goa, you can find it only in malls, and not always though. And when “a hard Goan winter” had come and the air temperature dropped up to plus seventeen at night, the old man on the bicycle used to appear wearing long pants, a towel wrapped around his head, but in open flip-flops. Such exotic always made me laugh.
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