You-May-Have-Contacted-Me (Post 356) and I have been chatting for a few weeks. He used to live in Assam; he father was in the business of tea. He has also lived in Bombay (now Mumbai) and Bangalore. He spent a summer at 15 in Delhi, doing what, I am not entirely sure, he refers to it as the summer he was doing “some stuff” for his father.
He’s been in the States for some time, he did graduate schooling at Wharton and now lives outside Philadelphia. “Have you been here? To the City of Brotherly Love?” he asks and chuckles. “Once, for a few hours. Saw the Liberty Bell and had dinner at Buddakan.” “What? That is amazing, that place is so good. You just came down from New York for an afternoon or something?” You-May-Have-Contacted-Me asks. “Or something like that,” I reply. I am not going to tell a possible date that I was on a date with Dr. Froggy.
“Do you like grass?” he asks. “It’s okay. I am certainly not going to mow it,” I say. He laughs. “No I can’t imagine you pushing a lawn mower,” he says. “No. Growing up Dad never allowed me to mow the grass or shovel snow; these household tasks were reserved for my brother. Just like my brother was not allowed to vacuum, clean dishes, laundry, that was my job - the girl job,” I reply. “Really? But you grew up in America, that sounds a little conservative," he says. “I don't think so at all. Dad still has some traditional ideals, nothing wrong with that," I reply.
“So you don’t miss grass? My brother and I share an apartment and we have great lawn space. It is great complex,” he says. “I have the park,” I reply. “Oh Central Park?” he asks. “No Fort Tryon Park,” I reply. “You don’t miss open spaces?” he asks. “No,” I reply. “Nice people? You don’t miss them either?” he asks. “People in New York are nice. I see New Yorkers giving directions to tourists all the time. And when my mom comes to New York people give up their subway seats to her,” I share. “Well, maybe you bring it out in people. I don’t find people from New York or the New York pace very nice at all. Small apartments, expensive City, what's the point? Where do you park your car?” he asks. “I don’t have a car. I love public transportation,” I reply.
“Fascinating. You’re fascinating. I’m from India, so I don’t understand how someone from Minnesota can like it there,” he says. “I guess I'm not your average Minnesotan,” I reply. “That’s for sure!” he says and laughs.