Have to say that I loved the Indian Embassy in NYC (right across the street from the Central Park Zoo) with the Pakistani Embassy just two streets away ‘cos despite our spats we’re all bhai-bhai, right? The first five minutes inside I sat on my plastic chair and beamed--it had an Indian-kitchen smell to it and I could hear at least seven conversations in five different languages--four of which I grew up speaking.
And also, it came to me why Indians are all affronted when there are security searches or rules against carrying food inside administrative buildings--I guess it’s because as a people we tend to be easy-going about things like that--there certainly was no metal detector when I carried my dripping strawberry popsicle into the passport renewal room… the best part was that after I was through with that, I had five offers to share snacks brought from home (masala chips, Krackjack [it's not what you're thinking], Hide n’Seek, idlis, and those Lays potato crisps). Ek dum sweet.
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