Story and photo by Maggie
Pushkar
Tuesday. November 15
Some of the guys in this band are kind of, you know, over the hill. And they were talking about the various stages that a man goes through in relation to his allure to the opposite sex. You start off irresistible, and then you become resistible, and then you become transparent, not exactly invisible but as if you’re seen through old plastic, and then you actually do become invisible. And then – and this is the most amazing transformation – you become repulsive. But that’s not the end of the story. After repulsive, you become cute. And that’s where I am.
~ Leonard Cohen in concert, December 2, 2013
So here we are, firmly ensconced in the invisible stage of life. Almost, but not quite, repulsive. (And if that’s a delusion, please don’t enlighten me.)
But here in India, we have returned to visibility. We are novel here, it seems, despite there being a gazillion of us in this tourist town. People notice us. Little kids wave and say hello, teenage girls glance shyly, then when I smile, they beam, and turn to tell their friend or their sister, as if I’ve made them feel special. Women pat me on the head, smile and nod. The manager of Laura’s Café offers to be my husband in the absence of my own, but all in good spirit, as he laughs when I tell him my husband would have to kill him.
Last night, walking along the holy bridge, every person that passed greeted us with a handshake or a blessing. On the ghat, a family came to where we were sitting and asked to join us for a bunch of photos with their phone. The traditionally-dressed mother of the western-dressed kids snuggled up to Anne and me. She arranged and rearranged the kids with us. Click click click. And then selfies (the word in Hindi is “selfie”) with the teenager, who evidently had spent a lot of time practicing her selfie pose, a sister to 14-year-old girls everywhere in the world.
Pushkar
Tuesday. November 15
Some of the guys in this band are kind of, you know, over the hill. And they were talking about the various stages that a man goes through in relation to his allure to the opposite sex. You start off irresistible, and then you become resistible, and then you become transparent, not exactly invisible but as if you’re seen through old plastic, and then you actually do become invisible. And then – and this is the most amazing transformation – you become repulsive. But that’s not the end of the story. After repulsive, you become cute. And that’s where I am.
~ Leonard Cohen in concert, December 2, 2013
So here we are, firmly ensconced in the invisible stage of life. Almost, but not quite, repulsive. (And if that’s a delusion, please don’t enlighten me.)
But here in India, we have returned to visibility. We are novel here, it seems, despite there being a gazillion of us in this tourist town. People notice us. Little kids wave and say hello, teenage girls glance shyly, then when I smile, they beam, and turn to tell their friend or their sister, as if I’ve made them feel special. Women pat me on the head, smile and nod. The manager of Laura’s Café offers to be my husband in the absence of my own, but all in good spirit, as he laughs when I tell him my husband would have to kill him.
Last night, walking along the holy bridge, every person that passed greeted us with a handshake or a blessing. On the ghat, a family came to where we were sitting and asked to join us for a bunch of photos with their phone. The traditionally-dressed mother of the western-dressed kids snuggled up to Anne and me. She arranged and rearranged the kids with us. Click click click. And then selfies (the word in Hindi is “selfie”) with the teenager, who evidently had spent a lot of time practicing her selfie pose, a sister to 14-year-old girls everywhere in the world.
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