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Tuesday, 19 April 2011


There I was, waiting for my chicken briyani while drowning myself with the smell of massala and tandoori from Calcutta. As I was about to pamper myself with the familiarity of Restoran Nasi Kandar, a row of Sochu, White Horse, Chivas Regal and Peter Scot Whisky greeted and mocked my homesickness. A hanging scroll splashed a picture of Lord Ganesha a colorful mandala, dancing back and forth with a fusion of Hakata wind and Hindi songs. Two Indian men in turbans with Kamal Hasan's mustaches smiled at me as they uttered 'Konichiwa!' while giving a Japanese bow. Pasted on a wall behind them was a map of India and a picture of Taj Mahal. As the doorbell of the tiny Suraj rang, I could see a Shinto shrine across the narrow sidewalk. The street noises of Tenjin woke me, reminded me that I was still in Fukuoka, to enjoy the irony of globalization and the parody of free market capitalism.


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