It is a cold, sunny day here. Trying to fit a quick meeting today before I leave for the US was a bad idea. Especially since I am burning up with fever. In the elevator, I am surrounded by vely large and very blonde men. I feel so terribly insignificant.
An Indian girl walks by, she is wearing a corduroy jacket. She spends the few seconds that we share the same space by trying not to make eye contact. So, I know she is from India and not just someone of Indian origin. This is the simplest test of determining national origin when I see an Indian woman on the street. If she makes eye contact and is polite, she is probably from UK or the US. If she gazes intensely at a fixed invisible point 40 degrees away from you to the third floor of a building, then she is from India. This high art of rudeness is perfected by Indian women and reserved particularly for Indian men. I don't think they mean to be rude, it is instinctive, even in a place like here, where it is highly unlikely that the Indian man will ask her "to make friendship" or make rude comments. I smile inside as I see that.
I feel weak. Need fluids.
