The Mistress of Spices Page #2

on 14th Street...

and someone grabs my shoulder.

Now, I'm praying to Allah as I turn,

but it's only being Mujibar.

Mujibar from my uncle's village!

I didn't even know he was in America.

And he's done good, too.

He's got a couple of taxis already...

...and he's looking for a driver.

Good pay, he's telling me.

Special for a fellow Kashmiri.

And maybe even the chance to buy later on.

Ladyjaan...

there's nothing like being your own master.

So, from tomorrow, I'm driving a cab,

black and yellow like a sunflower.

A cab?

This is all your doings.

Thank you.

Come and have a look at my taxi.

It's just outside. Come.

Haroun...

you know I cannot leave this store.

The store will be fine without you for a minute.

It's only a bus backfiring. Ladyjaan, come.

Touch it for good luck, huh?

Ladyjaan?

Are you OK?

How many times have I told you?

You should put an ad in India West for a helper.

Running this big store by yourself, it's too much.

Haroun, just be careful.

What?

Look. Please display for me.

My number is on the back,

so you can call me any time.

And I will give you a free ride to San Francisco.

The beautiful Golden Gate Bridge,

Alcatraz Island, the wharf of the fisherman.

I'll take you everywhere.

What does Haroun need?

Kalo jire. Black cumin seeds.

Protector against the evil eye.

Thank you, spices.

Hello?

Hi, Dadaji.

Chi, chi, chi.

I need something for my mental peace.

Ever since I came to this America,

I have not got one iota.

And that Satish of mine,

"Come, Baba, come here," he said.

"We are all here. Why do you want to be far

away from your flesh, blood

and a younger granddaughter?"

I'd rather not have anything

with this granddaughter at all.

Dadaji, Geeta's such a nice girl.

She's pretty, well-spoken,

and she loves my mango pickle.

It's all right with these foreign girls.

But you tell me one thing yourself.

Is it all right to work late, late in the night,

in the office with men?

And that also being dropped by these men

in their cars. You tell me!

Who will want to marry her?

Dadaji... this is America.

And even in India, women are working.

I know it is America. But we are Indians still, no?

You would have not done something like that,

I know it!

When oil and lighting um...

- Match.

...match is put together, there's bound to be fire.

And once the fire starts,

it is very difficult to put it out.

I need something for my mental peace.

I'll get you brahmi oil to cool your system.

And one more thing.

Yesterday she was wearing...

- Where are you going looking like this?

- I'm going out.

With so much of make-up?

In our times, only English women and loose

ladies used to wear so much of make-up.

And good Indian girl is not ashamed

of the face that God has given her.

I'm not ashamed of anything.

And why are you wearing something like this?

You want every man to look at your chest?

Gramps, don't wait up.

But I...

Feeling better?

Thanks to you.

Whatever you put under that bandage

worked wonders.

It's almost all healed.

I didn't get a chance to thank you properly

last time.

I was going to have flowers delivered

and I realized I don't even know your name.

I'm Doug.

Tilo.

I will come back for my peace of mind again.

Chi, Dadaji.

Take care, Dadaji.

You take care, my dear.

It smells so beautiful in here.

I must have passed this store hundreds of times

and I've always been scared to come in.

Scared? Why?

I don't know. I wasn't sure if it was OK

for a guy like me to...

Well, you know.

It seems like it's for your community.

No, it's... it's for everyone.

Wow, there must be thousands of spices in here.

How do you keep track of what they're all for?

I can't even cook an egg.

- Everyone has a spice.

- Really?

I got a spice too?

Well, which one's mine?

Um... if you'll wait here a minute,

I'll just go find yours.

Spices, speak to me.

What does he need?

Is it methi seed for strength?

Ajwain for confidence?

Fennel for perseverance?

Why can't I see?

When you begin to weave your desires

into your vision,

the true seeing is taken from you.

You grow confused

and the spices no longer obey.

Asafoetida, the antidote to love.

You can't be his spice.

These chillies look deadly.

They are. You should stay away from them.

What happened to my spice?

It's not something bad, is it?

Some high-carb spice or something?

It's um... It's a special one.

Sorry.

Hey.

Yeah.

I'll be there, like, in like ten minutes.

OK. Bye.

Sorry about that. It's just we've started

a new building down the street.

There's lots of city politics.

You are an architect?

Yeah, but that's just my job.

I got a spice now.

What's my spice supposed to do for me,

anyway?

It depends. What do you need?

You think I need something?

I'm all out of your spice.

But...

I um...

I have something for you.

What is it?

It's... tulsi.

Holy basil.

Mm. What's it for?

Drink it like tea.

And that's on the house.

You know, it's funny.

People look at me

and think that I'm doing OK.

But you look at me like you know something

you're not telling me.

I only know that everyone's welcome here.

There's no need to be scared.

I still can't believe that you can remember what

all these spices are for without getting mixed up.

It's simple.

We all have spices.

Just like we all have traditions.

Yeah.

Well... I'll drink this tonight.

I'd better get back to work.

Thanks.

Tulsi... for remembering.

Remember to come back.

Don't Shake Me Up

It would be so easy just once

to use the spices for myself.

Crushed prishniparni burned with lotus root in

the evening would make him come back to me.

Tulsi... you were right.

Why should he think of me?

He's remembering someone else.

Hello, Beti. You still here?

You still here? I've got a letter from

Janu Barwa, my old army friend.

They are looking for a match

for his grandnephew.

You gotta be joking!

I mean, why would I leave my career, my family,

all my friends here

to go some place I've visited, like, twice?

I mean,

I don't even like going to the bathroom in India.

Mom... Dad...

I have met someone...

and we're in love.

No shame at all.

Making talk of love.

In front of me, her grandfather.

Anthony Garcia?

Satish, she is marrying a white man?

He's not white. He's chicano.

Chicano? What's that?

I know it's nothing good.

He's Mexican-American.

You are losing your caste and putting

the blackest color on our ancestors' faces

to marry a man whose people

are slum criminals and illegals?

You don't understand, Grandpa.

I understand! I understand everything!

Satish is sitting totally quiet.

I want to tell him.

Once you let cow out of the barn...

...you can't stop it

from trampling the paddy fields.

But when I look at his face...

I don't have the heart.

I say, "Satish...

put me on a plane tomorrow to India.

Tomorrow!"

Dad?

- Dad, say something.

- I trusted you.

I don't want to see your face.

How can you say that to me?

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