Y Tu Mamá También

As the days get hotter, I find myself walking more and more slowly. I may be burning fewer calories, but now I have time to read the numerous handwritten signs taped to shop doors and windows. This evening, as Adeet and I crept along Roosevelt Avenue, I stopped in front of a graphic "Before" and "After" photo display. And then I read the copy:

Why, Mother has the skin of a schoolgirl, thank you very much. If I did look older than Mom, I might pass for sixteen. I can only imagine how haggard you must appear, Miss Flawless Program, since your mother's complexion surely resembles a pair of rattlesnake cowboy boots.

When this heat wave breaks, I'll pick up my pace again. But I'll be sure to look out for any particularly impertinent signs. You don't expect me to let them talk about my mother that way, do you?

No Kulfi Allowed

On one of my daily walks down 37th Avenue, I noticed a sign on a shop window at JMD Mall declaring: No Food, No Drinks, No Kulfi.

Kulfi is a frozen Indian dessert, denser than Western ice cream and often flavored with saffron or cardamom. I wondered why it didn't fall under the broad "Food" category. And why had it been singled out among all other frozen treats? A Mister Softee truck often parked down the street, but no one had specifically banned his cones. Would salespeople overlook Popsicles? Perhaps I could saunter into a sari shop and slurp a snow cone with impunity, while my kulfi-licking neighbors were escorted off the premises.

Today I saw another sign with an anti-kulfi bias. Khan Electronics has taken the additional step of prohibiting gum chewing, but kulfi is at the top of their "No" list. Shopkeepers might soon lobby the mayor, and we'll find groups of kulfi eaters huddled outside storefronts, furtively lapping up their dessert before running errands. We'll sigh as we recall a New York that wasn't afraid of people dripping on the carpet and reminisce about the days when you could have your kulfi and eat it too.

photo by Adeet Deshmukh