Mandakini's wet saree and my screaming cockatiels

It is now about quarter to ten on a fine Sunday morning and an hour since the cockatiels stopped screaming their heads off.  For about 15 minutes before that this morning felt like a screeching match between my girlfriend and my ex-wife (not that I have had the luck of either)
O:-)

A few minutes into the screaming, I could not bear it and tried to cajole, plead, shout, pet, play and what not in an attempt to stop them.  I adjusted the curtains just so, moved around the sliding windows of the (their) balcony, scratched around their food, all to no avail.

It finally hit me.  The maid servant has been held up today - she normally turns up just after seven in the morning, sweeps the apartment, mops the floor and puts up the washed clothes to dry by quarter past eight.

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BTW, I (and most of us in Chennai and India) still use the natural dryer - the Sun - for the purpose.  As an aside, I don’t understand why the idiot of the Government is not claiming such practices for carbon credits at the UN Climate Talks. 

I mean, when

• the West wants to implicate Climate Change  as a matter of concern UN Security Council,
• the Aussies
• themselves admit Australia is the worst polluter  per capita,
• keep accusing India and China of aiming to be big polluters overall, and
• consistently refuse supply  of Uranium to India preventing our access to Clean, Green Nuclear Power instead of relying on coal fired plants.

Why isn’t the GoI insisting that our (Indians) resort to such natural, green practices for everyday chores (in contrast to developed countries) be taken into account?

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BTP, as I mentioned the maid was delayed and in the bargain, my mothers sari, which she insists be sun dried only in the balcony, the same balcony which is the home of the cockatiels, was not hung.

That was the point of the piercing calls - that the sari has not yet been put out to dry, though it is almost half past eight.  Once it hit me, I picked up an old, disused sari lying around (waiting to be torn up and used as rags - is that another carbon trading point?) and put it out on the clothes line.
And the screaming stopped.

Thank God that they have not yet learned to spot the difference between a wet and a dry sari.

Speaking of wet sari, I think this is the most inspiring scene of a wet sari ever, in Indian cinema.  Mandakini in the 1985 movie ‘Ram Teri Ganga Maili’


Divine, is she not?

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