Friday night, heading back from Pune, flight is late because of torrential rains in Pune. Plane doors finally open at 11:15pm to another hot Delhi evening.
Mukesh has decided to take advantage of my long absences from Delhi to moonlight at Hertz - he did not make it back in time to pick me up from the airport. So there is another Hertz car waiting to pick me up.
We head out onto the still under construction but usable National Highway 8 for the short ride to Gurgaon. We pass an accident - a brand new car - looks like a Honda Accord - does not even have a pukka license plate - the front part wedged under a truck all the way to the wind screen. Parked on the other side of the road is a Qualis with a loose fender, packed with what appear to be call center employees. Hard to tell if this is all part of the same accident or not. We do our share of pointless rubber necking and continue.
Make the left turn off IFFCO chowk. In the little space between the NH8 and MG Road (Meherauli Gurgaon, not Mahatma Gandhi which I mistook it for initially) between the ditch and the road on a small triangle covered with dirt, sit some 30-40 cycle rickshaws. They are crammed in tightly together slightly away from the road. The drivers are all asleep - crouched in various positions on the 24x9 inch seat. I wonder what they would do if it rains. The driver says they would just raise the little shades - but this is Delhi it hardly ever rains. .... Right - just sandstorms and hailstones and buckets and buckets of rain - but that is only 3-4 times a year.. so maybe they can just grin and bear it... worse things can happen here than being caught in a little rain. I think about it for a minute - yeah that is quite true.
As we round the corner - I see the traffic cop making a valiant effort to contain the traffic mess - he has got to be the bravest, most optimistic fellow in the world. Armed with nothing more than a uniform and a whistle he is hoping to control the big truck drivers, unruly cars, bicycles, scooters, motorbikes, pedestrians, cows and dogs. Even the mildest, sweetest people turn into the wildest people when armed with a steering wheel and a form of automation.
We pass the 3 construction sites on MG Road near Privat Hospital. These had been mere pits 8 months ago. At midnight work is in full swing - the facades are going up - in another 3 months these will be opening for business. Another inexplicable contradiction in a state and business known for dragging things out on the slightest pretext.
The road outside MGF Mall - the center of major activity and traffic jams during the day is littered and empty - its energy spent - humanity has retreated for the night. A couple of people asleep on a ledge around a tree, on a pushcart - but mostly just dogs - even they are tired.
At the gates of BPII I ask the driver to slow down so the guard can complete his visual identification test - if I was a bad guy - we could crash through the barrier, I could get out of the car, stomp my feet wield a knife or other weapon and coerce him to open the door - but I am a law abiding resident of the complex - he waves us through.
We pass what must be an NRI (non-resident Indian) or FRI - (foreign returned Indian) cos ou have to have travelled outside the country to acquire so much self confidence - dressed in full gym gear wearing the noise reducing Bose headsets (the big heavy ones)- briskly walking around the complex - I know what Bana would say... "only in BPII.."
We continue over the speed bumps past the now abandoned tennis courts and basketball court to the entrance to my building. After an interminable 10 minutes in which the driver makes up my bill - I open the gate using my electronic access card and ferry myself up.
Salyani is wide awake - "Do you know what happened today ?" What happened ? Some NRI in the other tower he was shooting at the police. Huh ? Why ? Don't know - then the police went in and took all his stuff out and arrested him and the media were all here - Media - how do you know the word media - oh the guard called them the media - they had cameras and all......... I found out the next morning - some landlord got fed up of his tenant refusing to vacate his expensive apartment had finally forcibly evicted him. I had missed all the drama. Thank God !
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Kishore Bhuvan
Kishore Bhuvan - literally Kishore's World.. I don't know who Kishore was - perhaps he was the son of the owner from whom my maternal ancestors rented an apartment in Bhuleshwar since the mid 1920s - Kishore himself is irrelevant to this story .....
For to all of us cousins, Kishore Bhuvan constitutes a world of a large family. A world with lots of uncles and aunts, lots of cousins coming together to celebrate raksha bandhan, chopda poojan and bestu varas and spending the summer holidays together.
A world in which 1 person could surreptitiously consume more chicken in a single afternoon than a family of 4 could consume; summer holidays spent at my paternal grandfather's farm with a horde of cousins from both sides of the family........... a safe cocoon, a special experience that we will treasure for the rest of our lives.
A world in which your business was every one else's business - whether you liked it or not. And where the older people lorded it over the younger ones (atleast that is what we who werent the oldest always maintained).
Yes Kishore Bhuvan is a world of family, familiarity, warmth and safety. It is a world of the family misunderstanding, and many kid fights. A world of tradition, and a word that immediately transports you to a special place where whether you like the rules or not, whether you think they are fair or otherwise, you know for a fact that the rules will always remain the same.
It is a memory that is hard to recreate in this world of nuclear 2-children families. It is a concept that is hard to explain to the new generation - the one that never had cousins and aunts and uncles and an extended family, that expanded and contracted at a drop of a hat.
Or so I thought. Until an uncle and cousin had the brilliant idea of putting together this family reunion. Now the people of Kishore Bhuvan are all very clear on what they want and how things should be done. They are great leaders, very good at planning, defining, commanding. Their ability to execute, especially details, takes a long second to these abilities. Thank God for the in-laws. A cousin's wife took charge of the logistics - the brothers-in-law took charge of the menu. And we had a wonderful time - full of happy moments, drama, tension, intrigue and laughter.
Will there be another ? Who knows - I think the cousins in-law are still recovering from the last one.
For to all of us cousins, Kishore Bhuvan constitutes a world of a large family. A world with lots of uncles and aunts, lots of cousins coming together to celebrate raksha bandhan, chopda poojan and bestu varas and spending the summer holidays together.
A world in which 1 person could surreptitiously consume more chicken in a single afternoon than a family of 4 could consume; summer holidays spent at my paternal grandfather's farm with a horde of cousins from both sides of the family........... a safe cocoon, a special experience that we will treasure for the rest of our lives.
A world in which your business was every one else's business - whether you liked it or not. And where the older people lorded it over the younger ones (atleast that is what we who werent the oldest always maintained).
Yes Kishore Bhuvan is a world of family, familiarity, warmth and safety. It is a world of the family misunderstanding, and many kid fights. A world of tradition, and a word that immediately transports you to a special place where whether you like the rules or not, whether you think they are fair or otherwise, you know for a fact that the rules will always remain the same.
My maternal grandparents raised their 11 children there and lived there for over 50 years. Like Grand Central, it was also the launching pad for most cousins coming to Mumbai to make their fortunes.
We had our own pecking order and power structure - and yet we were all secure in knowing that we belonged, that we had our own place and that we would never want for friendship and camraderie.
But time moved on. We all grew up, several of us left the city and country, today the ancestral home has been sold, we no longer have any family in Kishore Bhuvan, indeed none of the family lives in Bhuleshwar.
It is a memory that is hard to recreate in this world of nuclear 2-children families. It is a concept that is hard to explain to the new generation - the one that never had cousins and aunts and uncles and an extended family, that expanded and contracted at a drop of a hat.
Or so I thought. Until an uncle and cousin had the brilliant idea of putting together this family reunion. Now the people of Kishore Bhuvan are all very clear on what they want and how things should be done. They are great leaders, very good at planning, defining, commanding. Their ability to execute, especially details, takes a long second to these abilities. Thank God for the in-laws. A cousin's wife took charge of the logistics - the brothers-in-law took charge of the menu. And we had a wonderful time - full of happy moments, drama, tension, intrigue and laughter.
Will there be another ? Who knows - I think the cousins in-law are still recovering from the last one.
Planning to Retire
Ever since I found out what it is I want to be when I grow up, I've switched to thinking about what I want to do wihen I retire. Somewhere along the way I realized, that when I'm grown up, all I want to be is young again... but since I haven't figured out how to get off this train where I am growing old, I keep thinking about what I will do when I retire.
It seems to me the biggest problem with retiring which in my mind equates to discontinuing traditional employment is what am I to do with all my free time.
I have an uncanny knack of spending money like it is going out of style - working actually helps me keep my retail habit in check. So this retirement thing could really work out to be prohibitively expensive. Besides I have this ambition to finish seeing the world, and with all the elite frequent flyer status I've been qualifying for, I am getting used to the good life.. travelling coach will be a major hardship.
Retirement was starting to seem like a nuisance until I met the Sheths. The Sheths had just retired from AT&T after some 30 years of service. They were both in relatively good health, and wanted to experience different cultures.
So here they were on a 1 year contract with my company living and working in New Delhi. They went to new employee orientation with 22 year olds. And then came to work with gusto - Absent of any political affiliations or career ambitions, the Sheths had loyalty only to the integrity of their deliverables. And man, did they have a great time. They turned out some of the best work on the project, they saw every play in the city, attended every musical recital they were interested in and accompanied me to the Ananda spa. They made more friends in 12 months then i think I have in the last 5 years.
Every one of their friends in the US leveraged their presence in Delhi to complete a tour of the Golden Triangle, using the Sheths home as headquarters. 12 months later, after having sampled all that the city had to offer, the Sheths packed their bags and returned to their home in NJ to reconnect with family and friends. 3 months ago they did a stint in Australia, and now they are on their way to Denmark.
I now know what i want to do when I grow up (or retire) - I want to live like the Sheths - picking the country I want to visit - and going there to live and work like a local for a full 6-12 months rather than being a tourist.
Of course there are a few things I still need to learn from the Sheths. Though I've been living in Delhi for a full 2 years and speaking like a local, shopping at the usual malls and local markets - I have yet to see a play or go to a music recital. But I have many years to learn that.
It seems to me the biggest problem with retiring which in my mind equates to discontinuing traditional employment is what am I to do with all my free time.
I have an uncanny knack of spending money like it is going out of style - working actually helps me keep my retail habit in check. So this retirement thing could really work out to be prohibitively expensive. Besides I have this ambition to finish seeing the world, and with all the elite frequent flyer status I've been qualifying for, I am getting used to the good life.. travelling coach will be a major hardship.
Retirement was starting to seem like a nuisance until I met the Sheths. The Sheths had just retired from AT&T after some 30 years of service. They were both in relatively good health, and wanted to experience different cultures.
So here they were on a 1 year contract with my company living and working in New Delhi. They went to new employee orientation with 22 year olds. And then came to work with gusto - Absent of any political affiliations or career ambitions, the Sheths had loyalty only to the integrity of their deliverables. And man, did they have a great time. They turned out some of the best work on the project, they saw every play in the city, attended every musical recital they were interested in and accompanied me to the Ananda spa. They made more friends in 12 months then i think I have in the last 5 years.
Every one of their friends in the US leveraged their presence in Delhi to complete a tour of the Golden Triangle, using the Sheths home as headquarters. 12 months later, after having sampled all that the city had to offer, the Sheths packed their bags and returned to their home in NJ to reconnect with family and friends. 3 months ago they did a stint in Australia, and now they are on their way to Denmark.
I now know what i want to do when I grow up (or retire) - I want to live like the Sheths - picking the country I want to visit - and going there to live and work like a local for a full 6-12 months rather than being a tourist.
Of course there are a few things I still need to learn from the Sheths. Though I've been living in Delhi for a full 2 years and speaking like a local, shopping at the usual malls and local markets - I have yet to see a play or go to a music recital. But I have many years to learn that.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
The Dream Degenerates (Read Living the Dream, then The Dream Gone Sour and then this one)
Living and working in Inda - albeit for 2 years already, and perhaps for several more months is very much like dreaming.. sometimes it is more nightmare than dream..but definitely a transitory break from reality.
Now here's where I cannot tell whether the dream has crossed over into being a nightmare.......... its definitely not the same dream......
The alarm goes off at 4:45am . I step out of bed, hop into the shower, get dressed, pick up my "light briefcase" and head downstairs. Mukesh is waiting with the "commuter car" he uses to ferry himself from his home near the airport to work - which in his case is my home in Gurgaon.
My suitcase, packed the previous night by Salyani, for an overnight trip, is already sitting in the front seat (the trunk is too small for the suitcase). We make it to the airport in about 15-20 mins, and I battle my way in to catch my flight to Mumbai, Pune or Bangalore as the case may be for that particular day.
Thankfully, Lekhni has telechecked me in the previous night.. so I am assured of an aisle seat. You are only allowed one bag in the cabin. However, I had the foresight to acquire a dainty briefcase (yes a dainty briefcase, imagine me with a dainty briefcase) that could pass off for a large, ostentatious purse. So I stick my regular purse into the suitcase, and avoid the baggage check-in process. I wrestle my way through getting a boarding pass, and through security and onto the coach that takes me to the airplane.
I settle into my aisle seat, convert my versatile dupatta into a blanket and go back to sleep. I arrive at my destination, find my driver, and get to wherever I am supposed to work that day. Some places are good, others so-so. Arrive back at the hotel - quake at the ransom the company pays for you to sleep in a good hotel, go to sleep, hit the snooze bar a few times and wish you could sleep several more hours.
You return to work in another, not so strange anymore, city, fondly thinking of Gurgaon as home, and of the days when you actually excercised, rode a bike and pretended to be learning how to swim.. whatever happened to all that ?
Now here's where I cannot tell whether the dream has crossed over into being a nightmare.......... its definitely not the same dream......
The alarm goes off at 4:45am . I step out of bed, hop into the shower, get dressed, pick up my "light briefcase" and head downstairs. Mukesh is waiting with the "commuter car" he uses to ferry himself from his home near the airport to work - which in his case is my home in Gurgaon.
My suitcase, packed the previous night by Salyani, for an overnight trip, is already sitting in the front seat (the trunk is too small for the suitcase). We make it to the airport in about 15-20 mins, and I battle my way in to catch my flight to Mumbai, Pune or Bangalore as the case may be for that particular day.
Thankfully, Lekhni has telechecked me in the previous night.. so I am assured of an aisle seat. You are only allowed one bag in the cabin. However, I had the foresight to acquire a dainty briefcase (yes a dainty briefcase, imagine me with a dainty briefcase) that could pass off for a large, ostentatious purse. So I stick my regular purse into the suitcase, and avoid the baggage check-in process. I wrestle my way through getting a boarding pass, and through security and onto the coach that takes me to the airplane.
I settle into my aisle seat, convert my versatile dupatta into a blanket and go back to sleep. I arrive at my destination, find my driver, and get to wherever I am supposed to work that day. Some places are good, others so-so. Arrive back at the hotel - quake at the ransom the company pays for you to sleep in a good hotel, go to sleep, hit the snooze bar a few times and wish you could sleep several more hours.
You return to work in another, not so strange anymore, city, fondly thinking of Gurgaon as home, and of the days when you actually excercised, rode a bike and pretended to be learning how to swim.. whatever happened to all that ?
When the Dream Goes Sour! (Read after you've read "Living the Dream")
Living and working in Gurgaon - albeit for 2 years already, and perhaps for several more months is very much like dreaming.. sometimes it is more nightmare than dream..but definitely a transitory break from reality.
Now for the same dream - gone sour!
The alarm goes off at 5:30am every morning. I hit the snooze bar, turn over and sleep some more..several times. Doorbell rings, persistently at 6;30 (Archana's been struggling with waking up too) and a sleepy Salyani opens the door for Archana, as I hastily change into my workout clothes. I moan and groan my way through an increasingly less taxing workout, and tell myself it is better than not working out at all.. When Archana leaves, I lay on the floor in Shava Asana and tell myself this is so I can wake up fully refreshed.
I scare Salyani who comes in with my cup of tea - cos she can't tell whether this is a really shava(corpse) that she is looking at, or me doing an asana. I attempt to revive myself, have some dysfunctional chats with my colleagues overseas, get engrossed in mail and before I know it it is 9am.
I rush through the shower and find that the 1 outfit out of about 30 that I wanted to wear, is in the wash... so I wear something else, scramble thru breakfast and rush downstairs. I have to carry my own briefcase (it wasnt packed when mukesh came for it), and my own lunch box (cos I've developed a contrary streak and want to carry it myself)
Mukesh the chauffeur comes after I call him on his cell phone - guard told him he couldnt idle that long outside the front door, so he had to go back to the car park.
Get to the office - same work, except now my ace resource comes into tell me that he is tired of India and wants to return home. The 2nd guy says that the competitor has offered him 3x the salary I pay him, he loves working for me, but not that much. The next guy comes into tell me that his team lead has called in sick with dengue. Forget about coping with new work, I am struggling to hang onto what I've already committed to do !
At the end of the day, I call my driver Mukesh, who again pulls the car to the door, and we head back home. We arrive at BPII where all I have to do is haul myself out of the car and take the elevator up. Mukesh follows with my briefcase and now empty lunchbox.
Salyani makes me hot rotli and sabji, I watch my favorite soaps while eating dinner, I worry about all the work that did not get done today, try to keep doing it until I fall asleep in the middle of composing an email. I pick myself up, check that the alarm is still set for 5:30 and retire to my bedroom.
At 2pm , I get a message that one of the critical servers has not come back up, and we cannot find a technician to resolve the problem. I wake up, make phone calls, somewhere somehow the server comes back up, I go to sleep.
On weekends, Archana or one of her colleagues, will stop by mid-day and administer what they call an accupressure massage. The rest of the weekend I hurt from the impact of the pressure.
Yes that too can happen!
Now for the same dream - gone sour!
The alarm goes off at 5:30am every morning. I hit the snooze bar, turn over and sleep some more..several times. Doorbell rings, persistently at 6;30 (Archana's been struggling with waking up too) and a sleepy Salyani opens the door for Archana, as I hastily change into my workout clothes. I moan and groan my way through an increasingly less taxing workout, and tell myself it is better than not working out at all.. When Archana leaves, I lay on the floor in Shava Asana and tell myself this is so I can wake up fully refreshed.
I scare Salyani who comes in with my cup of tea - cos she can't tell whether this is a really shava(corpse) that she is looking at, or me doing an asana. I attempt to revive myself, have some dysfunctional chats with my colleagues overseas, get engrossed in mail and before I know it it is 9am.
I rush through the shower and find that the 1 outfit out of about 30 that I wanted to wear, is in the wash... so I wear something else, scramble thru breakfast and rush downstairs. I have to carry my own briefcase (it wasnt packed when mukesh came for it), and my own lunch box (cos I've developed a contrary streak and want to carry it myself)
Mukesh the chauffeur comes after I call him on his cell phone - guard told him he couldnt idle that long outside the front door, so he had to go back to the car park.
Get to the office - same work, except now my ace resource comes into tell me that he is tired of India and wants to return home. The 2nd guy says that the competitor has offered him 3x the salary I pay him, he loves working for me, but not that much. The next guy comes into tell me that his team lead has called in sick with dengue. Forget about coping with new work, I am struggling to hang onto what I've already committed to do !
At the end of the day, I call my driver Mukesh, who again pulls the car to the door, and we head back home. We arrive at BPII where all I have to do is haul myself out of the car and take the elevator up. Mukesh follows with my briefcase and now empty lunchbox.
Salyani makes me hot rotli and sabji, I watch my favorite soaps while eating dinner, I worry about all the work that did not get done today, try to keep doing it until I fall asleep in the middle of composing an email. I pick myself up, check that the alarm is still set for 5:30 and retire to my bedroom.
At 2pm , I get a message that one of the critical servers has not come back up, and we cannot find a technician to resolve the problem. I wake up, make phone calls, somewhere somehow the server comes back up, I go to sleep.
On weekends, Archana or one of her colleagues, will stop by mid-day and administer what they call an accupressure massage. The rest of the weekend I hurt from the impact of the pressure.
Yes that too can happen!
Living the Dream!!!
Living and working in Gurgaon - albeit for 2 years already, and perhaps for several more months is very much like dreaming.. sometimes it is more nightmare than dream..but definitely a transitory break from reality.
So here is how the good dream goes.
The alarm goes off at 5:30am every morning. I step out of bed, looking forward to the day. I complete my morning ablutions, change into my workout clothes - the ones that show off my newly emerging muscles - and by 6:15 my trainer Archana arrives. We go through a varied routine every morning - some cardio, some breathing, some crunches, some stretches.. and by the time she leaves an hour later - I am energized and ready to face anything the day will bring forward.
The first thing the day brings forward, is Salyani with my tea. I drink my tea while I scan my mail and chat with colleagues in other countries, perhaps finish up a conference call or 2.
Tea finished, I get ready for the office. I pick out my clothes from the cupboard, where Salyani has hung them after washing, mending and ironing after the last time I wore them. After eating my freshly made wholesome breakfast - roti , sabji and chaash, I go downstairs.
Mukesh the chauffeur is waiting with the car right outside. In the car are my briefcase and lunch box. Lunch box packed with fresh cut fruit in an ice pack, and a water bottle wrapped in another ice pouch.
I go to the office, where my assistant - Tanuja in Okhla, Lekhni in Gurgaon, have my day organized for me - and I work. Work is mostly about figuring out how to cope with the increased business coming our way - staffing, training, streamlining, improving process and so on.
In contrast, my colleagues in other countries are worrying about how to reduce cost, how to protect their staffs from being laid off and find productive work for them, how to do more with less.
At the end of the day, I call my driver Mukesh, who again pulls the car to the door, and we head back home. We arrive at BPII where all I have to do is haul myself out of the car and take the elevator up. Mukesh follows with my briefcase and now empty lunchbox.
Salyani makes me hot rotli and sabji, I watch my favorite soaps while eating dinner and go to sleep.
On weekends, Archana or one of her colleagues, will stop by mid-day and administer what they call an accupressure massage. Occasionally I will visit my cousins, and or take my nephews to the movies.
Such is the stuff that dreams are made of.
So here is how the good dream goes.
The alarm goes off at 5:30am every morning. I step out of bed, looking forward to the day. I complete my morning ablutions, change into my workout clothes - the ones that show off my newly emerging muscles - and by 6:15 my trainer Archana arrives. We go through a varied routine every morning - some cardio, some breathing, some crunches, some stretches.. and by the time she leaves an hour later - I am energized and ready to face anything the day will bring forward.
The first thing the day brings forward, is Salyani with my tea. I drink my tea while I scan my mail and chat with colleagues in other countries, perhaps finish up a conference call or 2.
Tea finished, I get ready for the office. I pick out my clothes from the cupboard, where Salyani has hung them after washing, mending and ironing after the last time I wore them. After eating my freshly made wholesome breakfast - roti , sabji and chaash, I go downstairs.
Mukesh the chauffeur is waiting with the car right outside. In the car are my briefcase and lunch box. Lunch box packed with fresh cut fruit in an ice pack, and a water bottle wrapped in another ice pouch.
I go to the office, where my assistant - Tanuja in Okhla, Lekhni in Gurgaon, have my day organized for me - and I work. Work is mostly about figuring out how to cope with the increased business coming our way - staffing, training, streamlining, improving process and so on.
In contrast, my colleagues in other countries are worrying about how to reduce cost, how to protect their staffs from being laid off and find productive work for them, how to do more with less.
At the end of the day, I call my driver Mukesh, who again pulls the car to the door, and we head back home. We arrive at BPII where all I have to do is haul myself out of the car and take the elevator up. Mukesh follows with my briefcase and now empty lunchbox.
Salyani makes me hot rotli and sabji, I watch my favorite soaps while eating dinner and go to sleep.
On weekends, Archana or one of her colleagues, will stop by mid-day and administer what they call an accupressure massage. Occasionally I will visit my cousins, and or take my nephews to the movies.
Such is the stuff that dreams are made of.
The Heat is On On!!
You may have heard a jubilant singer belt out this song (from the 70s ? 60s ?)... I cannot remember any more of it.. but let me tell you.. these days, in Delhi.. the Heat is definitely On.On.. Oh yes it is!!
And there is nothing to rejoice about it. Unless you are a shredded mango, anxiously awaiting your transformation into chhunda, or cookie dough looking to be saved from certain spoilage by being transformed into a cookie.
Last night I returned to Delhi after a multi-city business trip. As on most business trips - the city was irrelevant - you go from plane to ac car to office to hotel etc. I was really looking forward to returning to my Delhi lifestyle (another blog).
As we prepared for landing they announced that the weather in Delhi was 44 degrees Celsius.....this was at 10pm at night. I have never lived in a place that gets this hot. 44 degrees Celsius - 111F - is the low setting in my oven in Poughkeepsie when I want to toast almonds and poha. !
The hot wind hit me as I stepped off the plane and onto the air stairs to the even more heat exuding coach that was waiting to ferry us into the terminal. Good thing I have a little more substance than poha or an almond, else I would surely be toast.
Fortunately the ac in the car works very well... and Mukesh remembers to spray the car for mosquitoes and cool the car down while he is waiting to pick me up.. so it is a relatively blissful journey home, until I step out of the car to enter the building and ferry myself up to the apartment. All of this takes less than the requisite 10-15 mins - so no cookie.. just irritated cookie dough.
I step into the apartment - had called ahead to ask Salyani to turn on the ac, the living room is like a blazing furnace, especially with the fan going full speed... the loose cable from which the AC switch has been dangling ever since I moved in - by the way this is typical in Delhi - why screw the thing in when you might need to unscrew it again in a few days - had decided to pop out this evening. So living room completely out of commission.
It is late so I decide to just retire to the bedroom with the nice split AC and go to sleep. Amazing - I step out of the bedroom about 30 mins later - what a difference between the cooled room and the rest of the apartment!
Thankfully, I turn in for the night......in my not stifling hot bedroom, then we lose power. Thankfully, even as I scream in frustration, the genset kicks in.. and the AC comes back on. Somewhere in the middle of the night power is restored.
And I wonder - how the folks who have no gensets, no ACs, no fans, no roofs - the ones that live on the kerb - how they must make it through each hot summer in Delhi, when I with my heavily pampered lifestyle am barely making it.
And there is nothing to rejoice about it. Unless you are a shredded mango, anxiously awaiting your transformation into chhunda, or cookie dough looking to be saved from certain spoilage by being transformed into a cookie.
Last night I returned to Delhi after a multi-city business trip. As on most business trips - the city was irrelevant - you go from plane to ac car to office to hotel etc. I was really looking forward to returning to my Delhi lifestyle (another blog).
As we prepared for landing they announced that the weather in Delhi was 44 degrees Celsius.....this was at 10pm at night. I have never lived in a place that gets this hot. 44 degrees Celsius - 111F - is the low setting in my oven in Poughkeepsie when I want to toast almonds and poha. !
The hot wind hit me as I stepped off the plane and onto the air stairs to the even more heat exuding coach that was waiting to ferry us into the terminal. Good thing I have a little more substance than poha or an almond, else I would surely be toast.
Fortunately the ac in the car works very well... and Mukesh remembers to spray the car for mosquitoes and cool the car down while he is waiting to pick me up.. so it is a relatively blissful journey home, until I step out of the car to enter the building and ferry myself up to the apartment. All of this takes less than the requisite 10-15 mins - so no cookie.. just irritated cookie dough.
I step into the apartment - had called ahead to ask Salyani to turn on the ac, the living room is like a blazing furnace, especially with the fan going full speed... the loose cable from which the AC switch has been dangling ever since I moved in - by the way this is typical in Delhi - why screw the thing in when you might need to unscrew it again in a few days - had decided to pop out this evening. So living room completely out of commission.
It is late so I decide to just retire to the bedroom with the nice split AC and go to sleep. Amazing - I step out of the bedroom about 30 mins later - what a difference between the cooled room and the rest of the apartment!
Thankfully, I turn in for the night......in my not stifling hot bedroom, then we lose power. Thankfully, even as I scream in frustration, the genset kicks in.. and the AC comes back on. Somewhere in the middle of the night power is restored.
And I wonder - how the folks who have no gensets, no ACs, no fans, no roofs - the ones that live on the kerb - how they must make it through each hot summer in Delhi, when I with my heavily pampered lifestyle am barely making it.
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