House O Havoc

For those of you have lived in India before, one must be well aware of the ridiculously long processes one must go through to get a flat (apartment) set up. Plenty of the other fellows have had horror stories about not being able to obtain a gas cylinder for the stove (as they are distributed by the government), staying up till odd hours only to case the garbage man to get him to pick up the garbage, buying single liter bottles of water for weeks before being able to locate a water man, fungus embedded on ceilings simply to be wiped away by a “professional”, toilets overflowing after use, and much more. Besides finding an apartment (which took me forever) I felt my roommate and I had it easy compared to the other fellows. We live on a small street (that spits up sewage everyday) that happens to have a million small shops on it. We immediately got our water set up, daily newspaper delivered, and the interent guy literally waited 3 hours at our door to ask us if we wanted interent and the watchman’s wife picks up the trash every morning. Not too bad.

Then the problems started. Our landlord ignores us, our geezer broke and leaks so we have no hot water for our showers, the mosquito infestation was ridiculous (but worth our beautiful view of the lake), the sink tap stopped working and once it started working the tap literally broke off. Then as the maid was cleaning the bathroom she decided to knock the tap off in the bathroom and not inform me, thus allowing gallons of water to shoot out all over the bathroom and my roommate’s room. It was the most overwhelming experience having the security guard’s wife and father try to help me while only speaking Telegu. My neighbor trying to help me translate but she only speaks English and Hindi and finally my friend’s driver translating in all three languages to get things across. CRAZY! Finally my favorite part was getting locked in my own bedroom as my door knob was broken.

So Sunday was finally the fix it day, and what a day it was! My house wreaked havoc!! The carpenter and his apprentice came to fix screens to keep the mosquitoes out and do other odd jobs, the plumber came to fix the bathroom, the watch man came to be the pompous ass hole he is and help the plumber, the maid came to clean, the landlord’s son came to bug us, the neighbor came to talk to us, the neighbors two young kids who I love came to scream, run around and dance in our house, and finally my friend stopped by to say hi. I cannot begin to describe the chaos that was our house for those three hours. At one point when the little boy from next door was literally hanging on me screaming in my ear while the carpenter was asking me a question in Hindi and water was shooting out in the bathroom, I looked at my roommate and said every so enthusiastically… I LOVE THIS! What a great day! J

Pani Puri

On a normal Saturday in Hyderabad, after work I was sitting in a small park in front of the lake, just reading and relaxing. I had a huge bag of carrots with me and a good book; I was completely content. For those of you who know me well, you are aware of the fact that I eat stalks of parsley; I truly think it is my favorite food. Unfortunately I am unable to find parsley in the land of India, thus my addiction has transferred to my now infamous “bag o carrots”. As I chomped on my carrots this boy and his little posy of friends decide they want to bug me for some carrots, just being stupid teenage boys. I turned to concentrate on my book and ignore them. A minute later I saw them bugging an obvious tourist, fumbling with his hair and making fun of him to his face. Just as I thought they had finally left I looked up to see these boys throwing rocks towards my direction as well as the man they were hassling. I was frustrated with their actions and had to forced myself to remain calm as boys will always be boys. As the group of little terrors walked away, another boy of the same age walked up to me. He was wearing no shoes, had tattered clothes and was carrying a heavy basket on his head. He asked me if I wanted to buy any Pani Puri (an Indian snack), and as I declined he walked away and continued to the next bench in the park.

There I was reminded of the overwhelmingly obvious difference between socio economic statuses. The gap between rich and poor is already very large in India and is continuing to increase its size. As those little havoc raisers walk around, having nothing better to do but pick on foreigners, this boy has to walk bare foot in the streets of Hyderabad, attempting to sell Pani Puri for a very minute profit. It’s odd to me that I felt such strong sentiments watching this, as I go to the slums everyday and constantly see people in worse conditions than this boy. Maybe it was because I had his opposite right in front of me at the same time. In any case… I wish I had bought some Pani Puri from him.