An Attempt at Upcycled Art

This is a brand new apartment in Baroda. Everything from the curtains to cutlery is new. 

Since S was posted here a couple of months back, he has opened only the packages of bare necessities. Most packages of household utilities still remain unopened. There is a section of the house that we call ‘the gift shop’ because we get to open items depending on our need or greed. 

On the day I arrived I opened the packaged boxes of cooking vessels, bed linen, bath towels, the list goes on. 

With so much discarded packaging material lying in the house, A and I decided fill up the empty house with some upcycled art. In turn, we are filling our days of vacation planning some exciting projects.

Then last week, we went shopping and purchased some ethnic garments for which Baroda is famous. The labels on the clothes had a pretty pattern and we didn’t have the heart to throw them away. 

Last Saturday we dined at Vishalla which is a rural-themed restaurant in Ahmedabad. They packed our leftover parathas in two plates of dried leaves and tied them up with a red-dyed cotton thread.

The next day we arranged the patterns of the labels in a floral arrangement and lined the ‘petals’ with the red-dyed thread. 

Behold! The effect was like patchwork fabric! So much for so less! Have a look…

Men on Planes

Picture courtesy: Google images

I like talking to strange men on airplanes. 

Recently, on a plane from Muscat to Ahmedabad, Anna and I found that our seats were oddly ordered. She had a window, next to hers was a seat for a stranger, and mine was the aisle seat. 

Since we had boarded early, we just trusted the kindness of strangers and took the two adjacent seats near the window. 

“Madam, may I see your boarding passes please?” asked Akshay Kumar.

The steward in uniform did indeed resemble the Bollywood star! For a moment I wondered whether I was on one of those candid camera shows. But no, everything was matter-of-fact and nobody else paid him any extra attention, so he must be just a steward.

Behind Akshay Kumar was a tall gentleman in a green checked cotton shirt. He held a heavy handbag. 

I fumbled for our boarding passes in my handbag and said, “Our seats are D and F, but you see, this is my daughter and she has a slight fever, so can we sit next to each other please?”

Akshay looked at the tall gentleman who nodded courteously. 

I took care not to rest my hand on the armrest on his aisle seat. 

He put his bag away and sat down without much fuss. Most men do not wiggle around much in their seats like women do. My neighbor sat still, not doing anything else. 

I had brought some fruit slices to eat on the plane which provided food on demand and payment.  It was a night flight and we had already had our dinner. I offered him the fruit. 

He said, “No, thank you.”

Then he asked, “Do you stay in Muscat?”

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Last eight years. How about you?”

“Only one year.”

That set the tone for our conversation. 

It turned out that his company supplied uniforms to various institutions. He was a garment manufacturer and supplier. Since he had grown up in Gujarat where the plane was headed, he gave me plenty of information about how people live in that region, what to eat, where to eat, places to visit….

He reminded me of other men I had met in mid-air. The elderly cardiologist who gave advice on how to live life in general, the thick-bearded English teacher from Oman who had completed his Master’s degree in Pune, the German young boy who taught me how to eat cold bread…

Yes, I like talking to men on the plane.