Hehe John... cool one. We named it Jai-Kishan Haat a few days after we got here. And has been almost home ever since. I do hate, with an unexplanable intensity, the incosiderate pushy bhaiyas, the fact that you wont get your chaya (if you wanted one, I don't) without forcing your way to the cash register. A pound of karela means having to plough your way to the cash counter through the mass of sweating, keo-karpin donning mausijis who won't give a whit about standing in line like any decent perosn would do. Innumerable times, I have dumped my bag of fresh vegetables before I have been pushed out of way by those for whom buying some 'bengan' before me meant the end of the world. Having moved to New York from a relatively laid back north west, and being pushed right into a "Vidhan Market" was a little disconcerting. Paan spits all over the street, being shoved around on the sidewalks by freshly-arrived proud shoulders and elbows, and having to negotiate my way around the voluptous behinds of desi aunties took siometime getting used to. The only respite from Jai Kishan Haat is to get away from it, but one can't help going back. Thanks for bringing it up in a piece of great writing, as always!