Janpath opens out at Godin!

My Quest for the Elusive Curio is under way. Meanwhile, I spy a softie guy just outside Regal. 5 bucks. It says 'Strawberry' and 'Vanilla'. So I ask for one, saying 'vanilla'. The guy takes out a cone and has it poised under the orifice (why that word, blech!), then suddenly says, "Madam, Vanilla Strawberry mixed hai, chalega?" To which I nod. It tastes only of ice anyway, so I don't mind. I nearly run into a bunch of very Italian(bodylanguage)-sounding although I am too short and too preoccupied to notice their faces. Accha, then am walkingwalkingwalking and spot an SBI atm, the numbers of which you can really never have enough of. And when I stop there I realise I am at Godin! I go in, with trepidation and look around (read "I yearn for you tragically".)There is one firang there having a sitar looked at by two people. Then there is a (very Bengali) Gentleman at the counter. I ask, rueing it even as I do, "Do you mind if I try out some of the pianos?" The Gentleman looks at me with a mixture of pity, disdain and pure astonishment (now this is some look!) and says something to the effect of "Yes! As a matter of fact, I do!" (which should be accompanied by a large dose of le aire d'indignation*) But of course, I don't remmber verbatim, as I was distracted by that expression. Priceless. And shame, the feeling of feeling two foot small. Anyway, it was a No. Then I tried saying my school was interested in ordering a piano, etc. etc. Spiel. He said if I waited fifteen minutes I could speak to the Manager. I slunk off. Meanwhile, I exit and see some two un.kal jis walking down, and engaged in some apparently highly riveting discussion. I ask, "Excuse me, Scindia House ke liye kidhar se jaana hai?" (And make mental note that 'kidhar' is a Bombay word, not a Delhi word. Khair,) One asks, "Bus se jaana hai ki paidal?" Funny question. As it happens, I have to go there on foot and catch a bus at Scindia House. I explain this confusedly. "Kyun?" (Kyun, what? I wonder. It seems show the same on face, since reply comes,) "Kaunsi bus pakadni hai?" "M-13." "Accha, accha, tab theek hai." The other one takes charge. Busily says I can go from (and points back to where would retrace my steps. The route I would have taken too). But then adds that it is better to go from (and points to straight ahead, into what dawns on me, is Janpath's right angled offshoot: it's back end). Says I will run into charsis on the other route. (Inexplicably, I smile to myself at his squirmishness when he lets that slip). Then he paraphrases with difficulty, substituting some words equivalent to 'bad men'. I go down Janpath. Do not make a pitstop this time at one of my favourite places in the city, that little cubbyhole book-shack which is sometimes camouflaged by clothes. ( Had asked the old guy there last time where the books all came from; he was vague. Continue to find weird stuff there. And histories in the fly-leafs **. I like him. ) As it were, the Quest for the Elusive Curio is still on. (* no, this is NOT real French, for godssake! ** yaar, sometimes '-leaves' is just plain WRONG) // This Godin page i've linked to just makes me feel strange. Elitists! I exclaim. But I also stand in reverence. And understand why Appa didn't let me even ask last time we were there. Yes, sometimes parents do know. I also make mental note to find excuse to go to GeGe's place soon, and play her piano.