Saby, a day or two after we arrived in Kerala, went with his dad to get some allergy meds from the local pharmacy, which happens to be run by some distant family member and thus carries the family name. I ask my dear husband for, simply, some vitamins. "What kind?" he asks, to which I reply, "I dunno... women's? Would they have that here?" He refuses, saying he's already been made fun of by "that medical shop fellow" for how much he sweats, so there's just no way that he's going to go now and also ask (while still sweating) for a WOMEN'S vitamin.
With my basic requirements in hand, he heads off, returning some 40 minutes later with an old fashioned looking, dark brown glass bottle with a slightly sun-faded yellow label declaring "Devitamixotin" - or something like that. It looks like something you'd find in your great aunt's medicine cabinet. Or in an abandoned house.
Saby relates the story. "I asked for vitamins and he handed me this. 'Illa, I said, in Malayalam and then English, "do you have one that is not opened?" (with me noticing only now the broken metal seal on it's cap, like the old fashioned Faygo bottles). Saby continues, "That medical shop fellow takes the bottle, opens it, dumps all the vitamin capsules out on the counter and quickly counts them. "Aday, twen-ty." Scoops them back into the bottle and hands it back to me. Says, in Malayalam, "see... no need for new one. They're all there!"
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