Tuesday, March 22, 2011

A deal that took my breath away…


The year was 2004 and Gachibowli was a very sleepy place then. The AP Housing Board Colony at Gachibowli was built on a set of low hills around a lake. It was a very beautiful place with the famous Hyderabad hanging rocks all around. I really loved the semi forest like feel of the place but I must confess that I was afraid of the eerie feeling at nights. While most of my colleagues and friends felt this was a place for a fugitive, I chose this as my abode. Little did I know that I was going to live here for the next five years!

Singled in life I was trying to find my feet in a new city. As a single child this did not come naturally to me. Born, brought up, produced and developed in a super metro like Bombay I had never been tortured or subjected to household chores of any kind. Leave aside cooking, sweeping or cleaning, I had not much experience in even locking my room. There was always someone to take care of these duties at home.

In a suburb like Gachibowli what was most difficult to find in those days was a servant. I did not know any Telugu and thus could only practice dumb charades with the women who came to negotiate with me. Even after engaging with a few my life was a nightmare. These women would refuse to understand any instructions and keep to timings of their own. They would go unannounced on long leave and demand cash advances in the middle of the month. I also knew that I was paying at least 40% more than the market rate. My middle class neighbors who helped me communicate with my servants often took advantage of this and negotiated package deals with them to get the benefit of the higher premium I was paying.

Among all this walked in Shaheen. She was frail, lived far, did not impress with her work at first but spoke Hindi. The language barrier broken I managed to negotiate much better and soon we were in a deal. Shaheen as the name suggest was also a Muslim and with firm secularism celebrated every festival on earth. She would thus want leave every now and then. Also since she stayed a little far she found it difficult to keep timings. As I had hardly anything of value in my house I was open to the idea of sharing the keys to my place with her.

One day I found my TV on when I returned in the evening. I realized that my assets were being used without my knowledge. Since I would meet her only over weekends and on pay days the communication gap this time was of a different type. I also knew that confrontation would not help as she would just chuck the job. So that weekend I decided to very politely ask her about this.

While she dismissed the allegations, soon she started demanding some more privileges. She had inspected my refrigerator and candidly told me that since there are only water bottles in the fridge she should be allowed to use it to store some stuff occasionally. At first I was reluctant but she showed me the logic in terms of equal power consumption in both cases. I was amazed by her ability to analyze the situation and negotiate. I had no option but to give in to her demand.

I soon forgot about this arrangement as Shaheen would seldom keep anything in the fridge and I would rarely visit my refrigerator thanks to the Hyderabadi winter.

It should have been a night in early April as I remember clearly I was back from the ISB Graduation Day Celebrations. Hyderabad had just begun to get hot and I decided to walk into my fridge and pull out a bottle of cold water to drink. When I opened the door I saw two large goat heads wrapped in a transparent plastic bag staring right at me. I almost let out a scream and dropped the bottle in my hand before running for cover. Was this a scene from a horror show?

After collecting my breath and gathering my courage I decided to approach my fridge door again. The packets were still there so that was nothing paranormal about this. Now I started thinking and inspecting the stuff. The heads in my fridge were like the ones you would see at a butcher’s shop. While thinking I also realized that it was bakri eid a day before and thus finally I concluded that the culprit was Shaheen. I did not have to be Sherlock Homes for that.

I mustered up the courage to speak to Shaheen the next day but my aggression went for a toss when we both had a good laugh about the incident. When my neighbor’s kid inquired about my scream the previous night, I taught him to play this practical joke on his folks at home. Alas they did not have a fridge nor did we have a spare goat head so he found some other carcass from the garbage nearby and tried the trick by putting it in his dad’s trunk. The foul smell was a giveaway and the beating he got actually made me feel sorry for him.

On a ten point scale this blog would only score a Five. To read some of my higher rated blogs click on http://tbgfl.blogspot.com/



To read my views on the news click on http://llewellyn-desouza.blogspot.com/



To read about my adventures in my Yellow WagonR click on http://adventureswiththeyellowwagonr.blogspot.com/



















The Convertible.

The information dissemination drives for the Young Leaders Programme (YLP) at the ISB were quite literally taking me places. BITS Pilani is a 5 hour drive from Delhi and Vikram and I decided to hire a cab from Delhi to Pilani and Back. I had been to Pilani before and thus knew that the road could be a bit of a pain in the wrong place but what we had not bargained for was a Sikh Missionary for a driver.

Joginder was a five foot one inch average looking Sardar with extraordinary driving skills. Well at least that is what made me like him. However he was also a missionary on a zealous undertaking. I wonder what made him think that we would be interested in converting ourselves but I have this strange feeling that the ‘Singh’ in Vikram’s name was giving Joginder ideas.

As soon as we were out of bounds of the FM radio network, my dear Joginder switched on a ‘majlis’ like discourse in Punjabi. Thanks to Hindi films we could decipher what was being rendered but I was a little uncomfortable with what followed. Once the speech on the digital media was finished, Joginder started off with his missionary aggression.

He went on and on describing in graphic detail how Sikh Gurus were sacrificed at the hands of Moghal rulers like Aurangzeb, Humayun, Babur and even Shah Jahan. Wonder why he left Jahangir and Akbar out of the list. He even told us the reason why Sikhs differentiate themselves by using a turban and how when the time comes each Sikh warrior like him would be enough to tackle a militia of millions.

Pilani came to our rescue and since we reached our destination Joginder was forced to stop. However he promised us that he was not finished yet and would give us a sequel on our way back to Delhi.

The students at BITS Pilani rocked and made the entire effort worth it. We almost forgot about the tribulation we had been subjected to until the next day a smiling Joginder was back to drive us crazy.

This time he spared the Moghals and started off with how the Hindu Pundits and other holy men had miss used the sacred premises of Sikh Gurudwaras in the North Western Region of a united India. He went on to describe how authority entrusted in good faith was misused and how the Sikhs had to fight valiantly to recover honour.

At each stage we were being reassured that Sardar Joginder Singh was a man who could all alone take on an army in aggression for us.

The road from Pilani to Delhi passes through a place called Bhiwani. This place in recent times is more known for the Jat agitations and the Rail and Road blockades. The Jats are a hot blooded and more importantly able bodied tribe that lives in this region. They are known for their ability beat people into pulp when in a human combat situation.

As we were driving listening to Joginder we saw a few vehicles damaged by accidents on the way and then suddenly it happened. There was a kind of a traffic hold up most probably due to an accident ahead. Even thought the holdup was more than ½ a kilometer away, Joginder slammed the breaks and did a ‘U’ turn almost skidding off the highway. Then he raced away from the place as though we had just looted a bank. Not responding to our inquiries Joginder kept his foot pressed on the accelerator till we were more than 2 kilometers away from the situation at a Petrol Pump. After almost hiding the car behind a tree at the petrol pump by facing it in the opposite direction, Joginder finally heaved a sigh of relief.

After wiping sweat off his forehead and consuming two bottles of mineral water he told us that he had actually saved our life by scooting from the scene. He then told us another story where the Jats had almost beaten the day lights out of a driver for causing an accident. He went on to say that the Jats would end up beating anyone close by even if they were not involved in the accident.

I found it difficult to believe that anyone in this day and time could be as unreasonable as that. Nevertheless, what I could not digest was how someone who was a little while ago telling us about how much valour he as a Sardar was supposed to display, chickened out so meekly.

Although I was tempted to ask, I decided that discretion was the better part of valour and asked him instead if the FM radio was working.

Special Note: Whatever has been written here is a travel experience only. There is no intention to hurt any religious sentiments and if for any reason I have hurt Sikh sentiments, I would like to apologize in advance.

On a ten point scale this blog would only score a Three. To read some of my higher rated blogs click on http://tbgfl.blogspot.com/

To read my views on the news click on http://llewellyn-desouza.blogspot.com/

To read about my adventures in my Yellow WagonR click on http://adventureswiththeyellowwagonr.blogspot.com/