Cold Sparkle

I am in the process of mentally preparing for my re-entry into the U.S. Part of this is knowing what to say when someone asks "How was India?" 

How was India. That question is more loaded than the two-wheeler carrying an entire family down Paud Road . I don't even know what to do with that, so my first instinct is to pass it off like a Hot Potato (does anyone remember that game?) and talk about the weather. I have a short version, a long version, a truthful version, and a hesitant you-might-visit-one-day-and-I-don't-want-to-scare-you-so-I'll-fluff it-up-a-little version. There is also the Taj version, which is obviously the most magical and fluffy of all; it's probably more nauseating than the spicy balls of fire that I've been eating for the last three months. 

I'm sure that you will hear something like: it was challenging, but fulfilling.

Here's a small insight into what some of those challenges, and fulfillments, are.

Since internships have started, there are very few people left in the center by lunch time. I use this mid-day opportunity to sneak away to Café Coffee Day, every day, to buy a Cold Sparkle. My body has been amazingly adaptive to this nutritional substitute for real food.  

Yesterday my classes were frustrating and the heat was too much, so I left a little early for my daily dose of blended coconut coffee drink.  

Twenty minutes later, I was able to cross the street with all of my toes intact.

Okay. Cold Sparkle makes everything better. Wait for Cold Sparkle.

I walked up the familiar flight of stairs and opened the glass door to Café Coffee Day.

I love being a regular; even it is for all the wrong reasons.

One Cold Sparkle. Please.

Twenty five minutes and zero additional costumers later, I’m told that there is no Cold Sparkle.

OKAY.

So, I’ll have a Tropical Iceberg (there is nothing tropical about my life right now, but I can feel the iceberg approaching pretty quickly). It’s twenty rupees cheaper, so can I have twenty rupees back?

No.

Oh. Kay.

Ten minutes. One Cold Sparkle. The Titanic is still afloat. I. Will. Make it!

 Walking down the steps, feeling victorious over this poor unsuspecting coffee beverage, the bag breaks.

And twenty-five minutes later, I crossed the street. 

But at the end of the very hot, very congested day, Starbucks doesn't ever have a Cold Sparkle. And Pune (sometimes) does.