Music to My Ears

May 4, 2009


Yesterday, sitting on the floor of a non-air-conditioned room beyond the walled city, I had a lovely chat with my host, a relatively aggressive businessman dealing in textile. His English was approximate but brash and confident. He sounded slightly unhappy to have to argue with a white female. As far as he was concerned, acknowledging my presence as an independant entity was as far as he would go.

He was trying to make me remember a bedcover he had supposedly shown me three months ago. There was some detail I forgot about the piece, and for some reason instead of telling me what I wanted to know, he said I had already asked him this question before. Three months ago.

“So much for me, I said, I can be very forgetful, can you tell me again?”

“But I discussed your face!”

I looked at him, bewildered.

“I’m sorry, you did what?”

“Ma’am, I discussed your face! How can you forget?”

“Indeed, how could I. But. What’s the relation with the bedcover?”

“Discussed it your face, Ma’am, oh yes, I remember too well only.”

“I’m sorry I really don’t understand.”

I was puzzled.

“Ma’am, I discussed! You here!”

Oh. It dawned on me. Right. He discussed it in my face. He talked about it in my presence.

3 Responses to “Music to My Ears”

  1. Sunny Side Says:

    Yaaaaaarrrrr !!!

  2. jasmineandtheelephants Says:

    I know!

  3. Bombay Magic Says:

    Aaaaaahhhhhh … You know, when I moved to India, someone asked me if I was from Japan. To this day, I cannot understand.

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