After working on a paper at the most impressive coffee shop I had come upon thus far in the city, I arrived to find light-skinned adults with blue-eyed babies and groups of American colleagues. It was the one time I had been in the presence of more whiteys than Indian (even the last Harry Potter screening was majority Indian).
Opting out of the turkey add-on suited me fine, since my friends gave me some of their stuffing. And we had bakery-style wheat bread, not the Indian chapati which has gained such prominence in my diet. I welcomed the simply-cooked veggies, mashed potatoes, and Diet Coke (it's difficult to come by here, despite the proliferation of heart disease and diabetes among the populace). As we each savored a slice of pumpkin pie (arguably the best part of the meal), we went around the table talking about what we were thankful for (a provoking mix of material and non-material). Soon the discussion splintered, and I became a part of the "what I'll bring back from India to the U.S." huddle; we weren't talking about tactile things, but discoveries of the interior and exterior.
This evening, I had a mini Thanksgiving with my two flatmates, though tonight's menu was Indian-style. While every night can be full of thanks, friendship, and camaraderie, it's nearly futile to expect an American Thanksgiving on any day besides the last Thursday of November.
Pardon the simplified Thanksgiving report. I gotta jump in the shower because I'm leaving in a half-hour to catch an overnight train to Hyderabad, where Ren and I will run in a 10K race on Sunday morning; I can't wait!
The race will take place around Hussain Sagar lake