Gym room 'ones'

Have you seen:

• The one who runs many miles like a maniac but uses his feet to turn off the treadmill power switch located at a horribly low height of 1 inch from the floor?
• The one who stretches himself like elastic for a half hour but wraps up the rest of his tiring workout in 5 min?
• The one who thinks it's cool to let his sweat drip all over the cross trainer and, for greater effect, shake his hair out lest some sweat be left over?
• The one who sings along to his iPod tunes sounding like a siren but thoroughly enjoying himself?
• The one who insists on playing the radio station of his choice (without asking the rest of the gym room gang) but spends his time on the phone talking louder than the music?
• The one who has a conference call while walking at 3.5 km/hour? And still panting?
• The one who insists on carrying on a conversation with the person on the neighboring machine...who is, sort of, gasping for breath?
• The one who is watching and listening to all this and thinking "Now, that will make an interesting post"...all this while working out very hard, naturally!

Not being biased to gender or anything. 'His' just came naturally while typing.

Use 'her' wherever you like.

Same difference.

Apartment Rules - Part Trois

I've written a couple of posts about Apartments before... read them here... 1, 2

It's been almost 2 years since I moved out of Hyderabad to Bangalore. Overall, the apartment 'scene' is far better here. Or maybe I feel that way because I'm more used to the way people function in apartments in India. Or maybe it's because the number of apartments in most complexes around where I live are a lot. But more people would mean more crazies, right? Whatever. Here's what prompted this post.

This morning, after a tiring workout at the gym, I was walking (crawling) back home. All of a sudden, I spotted something strange at a balcony above. Turned out to be a bare-chested lungi-clad neighbor standing outside and brushing his teeth...at nearly 10 a.m! I didn't know whether to be shocked about the outfit (or lack of it) or the lateness of the teeth-brushing! Either way, since I was caught off-guard, I didn't have time to look away and he caught me staring at him with a horrified expression! Thankfully, since I was close to the foyer, I quickly went inside the building.

I wonder if his eyesight is as bad as his apartments manners. What are the chances that he will recognize me when we wait for the lift or something...we are, after all, in the same block.

Yeeeeesh, wait for that post now!

The Fight

It happened on the terrace this time, not the balcony like many times before. Loud and noisy...early in the morning. Another endless arguement. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...until it became physical.

Pushing, shoving, even head-butting. It seemed like it would never end. And there I was, the silent and lone observer, peeking from my balcony, cup of coffee in hand. Suddenly, there was a lot of movement, a sort of dance. Every step that one took, the other followed. Were they going to make up or was the fight intensifying?

And then, one took a step onto the ledge. The other stayed still for a second and then followed suit. One last look he gave her...and then took the plunge.

Oh to be a bird and just fly away when it all becomes too much to take!

Help is help is help...HELP!!!!!!!

In the 5 years that I've had to manage domestic help in India, I've realised a few things:

• They are stubborn
• They pretend to know everything
• They have selective hearing
• They won't change their ways (and I mean using-actual-floor-cleaners-instead-of-RIN-on-the- floors kind of change)
• They love the dishwash bar even though it takes nothing out of the dirty dishes
• They talk too much even if I'm not interested in hearing them
• They won't move a single piece of furniture to clean under it

But they want a raise ever so often. And new clothes. And money for cell phone recharge. And all the other nonsense that goes with being help in this day and age.

Help!

The case of the missing Crocs

Once upon a time, about two years ago actually, a pair of Crocs made its way into a home. The wearer wore it all the time even though Fuschia didn't match many outfits. But, fashionably unconscious as she was, she didn't care. She loved it that much. The crocs went everywhere with her...on the train, in a plane, by car and by foot. Through rain storms, muck, sand and cement. Always left in the same spot by the doorstep, the Crocs went missing one day. The house was turned upside down in an effort to find it. The usual suspects, both around and under 3 feet in height were thoroughly questioned but to no avail. She had most unpleasant thoughts about what might have happened to them especially about who might have taken them.

After a restless night, she decided to put the word out in the building about the missing Crocs. The first person to be told itself knew of its whereabouts! It was located by the main gate, the entrance to the building! Did she mistake the main gate to be her doorstep? How else did it end up there? Ah! The paper boy!! He came to collect the bill but left with the Crocs instead. And the next day walked up barefoot leaving the Crocs by the gate. Amateur.

Now the very clean Fuschia (it has been scrubbed silly) is back where it belongs. Inside the house and not by the doorstep. It takes too long to get a shoe to age gracefully. She will sleep in peace tonight.


****All characters and objects in this story are fictional. Resemblance to any individual or object dead or alive is purely coincidental.****

Plumbing 101

There was a strange smell in the kids loo this morning. After thorough investigation I ruled out the possibility of stale food, dead reptile or a forgotten diaper. Drain issue, I thought. So I asked the plumber to check when he popped in for his weekly visit. After a very thorough 2 second examination he told me with much confidence that if I left the bathroom door open all the time there would be more ventilation and the odour would go away!

He's paid a monthly retainer, btw.

Multi-lingual message

'Please close the door, daivacheydi gateue vayyandi' goes a voice everytime I get into the elevator in my building. Stating the obvious, at least to me. But what is interesting is how many times I hear this message through the day because someone has not shut the door properly.

Really, how many more languages must this message be played in? I guess we must do Hindi being the National Language and all. But in the India that we live in now, every city is a potpourri of languages with everyone speaking all and nothing at the same time. So the next best thing is pictures, because a picture says a thousand words, right? Step by step illustrations of what must be done to close the door properly.

And if even that doesn't work, hire a lift operator to open and close the door. All day long. There are enough people that would want to do that.

Going up in life might never be as easy.

Apartment Rules - Part Deux

The doorbell rings, a random person walks inside the already opened door and says she's here to have a look around my apartment because she is renting the one 2 floors down below. No introductions, nothing. She just waltzes around while I stand there speechless (stupid of me for sure). She then goes on to complain about the silly size of the bedrooms (her exact words), praises the fact that there is a room and bathroom for live-in help and then walks out the door. Comes back a second later and says, "I didn't get your name"!

WOW! Dare I say only in Hyderabad?

In absentia

It's funny how one gets addicted to writing a blog (or is it writing in a blog?). The mind goes crazy with all these thoughts without having a place to express them. Especially when there are situations that are irritating, stressful, mind-boggling, just truly unbelievable and the like...all one goes through when moving houses, especially here in India. The funniest part of this move is that it was just from 302 to 301! I'm not going to elaborate on it but maybe just some highlights...

Phone line is disconnected on Friday to be reconnected 4 days later. (Disconnection and reconnection are done at the same spot by the same people).
Broadband connection still not moved thirteen days after request has been initiated. (Call center says they need to determine feasibility and also asked for a landmark to techie can come to right address). It's NEXT DOOR for God's sakes!
Duplicate key for apartment looks nothing like the original but surprisingly opens the door, after which the original stops working! (HUH??!!)

I think that's enough said. Moving is a nightmare anywhere in the world. When you add to it service providers that don't care and domestic help that's a little lacking, its enough to make you want to never ever move again. In today's world, a seemingly impossible task.

Mind off to sleep...tired from the drama of the last few days. More thoughts later.

Apartment Rules

1. Do you have to know all your neighbours?
2. Do you have to say hi and make polite conversation with whomever you bump into at the lift?
3. Do you have to listen to the numerous stories your house help will tell you (whether you are interested or not) about your neighbour (whose house she works at also)?
4. Do you have to request someone, at 9 pm no less, to stop drilling holes and fix their air conditioner in the morning (like normal people would do)?
5. Do you have to answer your door at 10 pm because your neighbour is out of potatoes????