Skip to main content

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose

Déjà vu m'arrive tant de fois, mais pas dans le sens psychological. La semaine dernière, nous sommes entrés dans Suzette, un nouveau restaurante breton dans Mumbai, offrant une gamme des crêpes. J'étais excité parce que je n'ai jamais vu une crêpe avant. J'ai demandé une "crêpe aux épinards, feta, basilic frais et tomates fraîches", en essayant mon français livresque au cours. Que j'ai reçu était une choc électrique.

J'ai vu des crêpes avant—elles sont appelées les "dosas" dans ma langue. Les bretons les préparent de sarrasin, nous Tamouls de lentilles. Je viens de payer 20 fois plus pour quelque chose que je mange chez moi trois fois par semaine! J'admets qu'ils n'ont pas du fromage feta et des épinards, mais je peux les mettre dans un dosa, n'est-ce pas? Les seuls choses français de cette affaire etaient les couteau-et-fourchette, le désespoir Houellebecqien, et peut-être le Chopin jouant en arrière. Et bien sûr —déjà vu.


les rizières
. . . un buffle contourne
le tour électrique


Translation:

The more things change, the more they are the same.

Déjà vu happens to me all the time, just not in the psychological sense. Last week we entered Suzette, a new Breton-themed restaurant in Mumbai, offering a range of crêpes. I was excited because I've never seen crêpes before. I asked for a "crêpe aux épinards, feta, basilic frais et tomates fraîches", trying out my bookish French in the course. What I got was an electric shock.

I have seen crêpes before—they are called 'dosas' in my language. The Bretons make them of buckwheat, we Tamils of lentils. I had just paid paid 20 times more for something I eat at home three times a week! I admit they don't have feta cheese and spinach, but I can put them in a dosa, can I not? The only things French about the affair were the knife-and-fork, the Houellebecq-ian despair and perhaps the Chopin playing in the background. And of course—déjà vu.


rice paddies
. . . the buffalo skirts
the electric pylon


Published in Cattails

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

CST Station at 7:45 PM on Sunday 21 December, 2008

winter clouds this silent scream in my eyes The loo stinks, the tap runs and can't be closed. The risk of dying of a urinary tract infection or asphyxiation is still the same. The sole policeman visible, young and unarmed, is ostensibly guarding the ladies' first class. The rather bright lights are a change though, but they seem to make the place seem a wee bit less crowded. Seem. There are people sitting on the platform, waiting for their trains. Many in their Sunday best. Popcorn-sellers, peanut-sellers, kulfi-sellers are trying to get me to shed some money towards them, even as I wait for the samosa-seller. yellow leaves the old woman sweeps up yesterday It's getting on eight (time for the Titwala Fast to leave), and last-minute boarders are jumping in. The popcorn-seller is taking his last chances before he moves to the 8:13 Khopoli Slow. I don't know how many of the guys around me are pass-holders or even bothered to buy tickets. I do know the police didn...

Haiku translated into... Sanskrit

 Four sets of Haiku translated into Sanskrit (not perfect!): https://cafehaiku.wordpress.com/2021/05/14/abhyagata-palika/ https://cafehaiku.wordpress.com/2021/05/16/hasteh-chayayam-in-the-elephants-shadow/ https://cafehaiku.wordpress.com/2021/05/18/vasanta-gandham-spring-fragrance/ https://cafehaiku.wordpress.com/2021/05/20/garjana-dhwani-the-thunder/

Haiku for International Haiku Day

 highlighting the gulmohar’s redness koel calls pooja flowers the rain gods claim them for their own non-violence… our Ganesha makes do with fallen flowers flower shop — I just stand by to watch the bees last gong – the bare maidan bursts a-flower (Published in Cafe Haiku on 17/04/2023)