Sweet Bitter-sweets

There was still a week until my departure for Tokyo, but already every outing, every encounter, every little ritual had taken on the bittersweet patina of parting. Even an unprecedented, novel occurrence - a First - was also, potentially, a Last. My last bouquet of purple balloon-flowers, I would think. My last mound of jade-green sugar beans. My last trip to the library, my last visit to the marketplace, my last lunch here, my last supper there ...



from A Zen Romance, p. 236
Deborah Boliver Boehm, 1996.

:::

My second-last weekend in Welly, but my last Bollywood Dance competition and Diwali melā.

Last night's Bollywood Dance Competition saw two groups doing the bhangra - which nearly caused the Town Hall's collapse. There was one boorish Punjab da muNDā a couple of rows in front of me who, very fucking inconsiderately, kept yelling to his friends seated in the next section, despite his poor, embarrassed girlfriend's shushing. (Getting into the spirit is one thing, but you do not yell to friends seated far away in the middle of the performance: show some bloody respect, you asswipe.) Thank Goddess for my determination to not let anything - or anyone - spoil my night.

Today's melā was great. The best bit had been the guest Rajasthani musicians and dancers. The dances, the music, and the trinkets they brought over (I unfortunately missed the puppet show) only strengthened the resolve to one day visit Rajasthan.

I didn't buy any CDs or DVDs (though I had been very sorely tempted), but I couldn't not buy my sweets - especially my beloved fig burfi (no laDDū for me this year though).

Last summer, I'd been unsuccessful in (and very disappointed with) my search for fig burfi in Singapore - is there none at all on the island? Searching for the sweets you like is an almost-nightmarish uphill schlep when you have no idea what they're called. Just for the laDDū alone, I've no freaking idea which of the dozens types I like (although I suspect it's the one called motichur laDDū).



I don't know what the name of the stall is (they operate in suburban Johnsonville), but their sweets are the most expensive - and, unfortunately, my favorite. I bought two fig burfi, one cashew burfi, one almond bufi (fuck, I've forgotten to get pista burfi!), and three other pieces of which names have escaped me for the past two years. This small box costs NZD 10.50 - worth, prolly, their weight in silver.



This is your last box of sweets, sweetie - your very last box of sweet bitter-sweets. Hope you've enjoyed them.