Papaji is so charitable

It was at the end of September 2010 that we had agreed to vacated our house in Anand Niketan.

Papaji seemed fine with it as he was with initiating the check-out process a few days before we moved out. But once again, he forgot his promise. "I need to see the house in running condition," he said. "It won't take much time".

"Don't worry about your security deposit," chimed Auntieji. "Papaji is not-money minded. He is always giving money to charities."

As it turned out, Papaji was untraceable even when we were all packed up and ready to leave - on the D-day.

The phone-calls went unanswered as did the knocks on the passageway door. It was only on ringing the door-bell repeatedly that Papaji stepped out. "We could not co-ordinate with you because our phone has died," he said, even before I mentioned making repeated calls to his number.

A little while later, Papaji arrived with his Man Friday. Socket by socket and switch by switch, they started the inspection process. I didn't remember the house being handed over to us this way. "Everything is new and everything works", both Papaji and Auntieji had said in tandem. "Don't worry about the living room. Our sofa is arriving from Kashmir and will be there soon. And yes, the main bedroom will have a bed."

Man Friday kept checking for current in every socket and counted the number of bulbs that were fused in every room.

Until he came to the spare bedroom. The air-conditioner isn't working. Nor is the fan. Or the light. It's the same in the dining area - no fans or lights working here either.

Hang on, I thought. My little girl was playing here just a moment ago and the fan was definitely working.

"Sorry, looks like there is no current, " Man Friday sheepishly admitted.

After nearly an hour of checking if the water-heaters were dispensing hot water, the washing machine was working, the refrigerator was cool and almost putting his hand on the electric hot-plate (God bless him), Papaji went down for his calculations.

About 45 minutes later, I knocked on the door. "Give me some more time," Papaji said. "We are just checking if there has been a major damage to the property".

A major damage to the property? There was no major damage to the property. Didn't we just have an inspection?

Papaji and Man Friday was back in again soon after. Another round of inspections. Are the keys to all the doors there? Can the cupboards be locked up? Is the Water Purifier playing music when switched on? What about that hidden bulb? Does it work? Papaji still couldn't find any major damage.

After nearly three hours, Papaji had his list ready. Lots of plug-points needed replacement. All the bulbs and tube lights needed to change. The Water Purifier and Washing Machine needed mending. And some deductions needed to be made for bills unpaid. That, along with some earlier expenses, would come to 10,000 INR.

This didn't seem like the charitable man Auntieji had reassured me about. Unfortunately, she had suddenly taken ill and couldn't get out of bed on the day.

I told Papaji that the bulbs could not and never did work together. The wiring in the house was so old that an attempt to do this could blow up the house. As for the plug-points, they are exactly as they were when we moved in. In fact, a lot of those had to be changed by us as they posed a risk to our electrical appliances. The Water Purifier and Washing Machine never worked, and all the bills have been paid already.

What? The Water Purifier and Washing Machine were not working? You never told us. By this time Auntieji had come in too. She joined Papaji in expressing shock at the Water Purifier and Washing Machine situation.

My better half, who was patiently until this point, just walked off in a huff. That is blatant lying. Why would we buy water worth hundreds of rupees every month if the Purifier worked? And do I really need to remind you about time spent on Washing Machine?

This was the opportunity Auntieji was looking for. "You are nice man. Papaji always talks highly of you. But your better-half should not have walked away like this".

I reminded her of the kind of things that cause anger. Remember the sofa that had set out from Kashmir? It hasn't reached the house even a year after it allegedly reached Gurgaon (some 20 kilometres from the house). "Oh, that. That will never reach here. We were thinking of knocking down the house and turning it into a multi-storey building".

Needless to add, it was pointless to continue arguing. It had already been four hours since we packed up and day had moved into late-evening.

After some more haggling and digging my heels in, we brought the deduction down by 50%.

Suddenly, I could understand why "the previous tenant all his money back, only for Papaji to discover he had broken a few things in the house". The more plausible explanation seemed to be that the tenant just lost it after Papaji refused to return his money, and got his revenge by breaking a few thing!!

Shall we play Commonwealth Games?

"I enjoy reading your updates," a friend remarked recently. "But there seems to be a tinge of negativism in them".

This is something my better half has said too. No, she doesn't read this blog. Her impression is based on commiserations from common friends about our time in India. "Sorry to hear that you guys are having a tough time," one of them had said.

Call it human nature, but we seem to make more fuss about unfortunate episodes in our lives and tend to ignore the good ones. Why? We are just too busy having a good time.

This isn't an attempt to redress that skew. It is merely an attempt to try and balance the view - if what I hear is indeed the impression readers of this blog carry.

As I mentioned to a friend recently, "I have a love-hate relationship with Delhi, but it is my city - a city I am familiar with and where my family and friends are".

There are many other things I love about Delhi - its green spaces, its long and visible history, the ethnic mix of people, the way it has beaten Mumbai as the preferred destination of those who dream of success.

It is most definitely a city where frustration turns into anger, anger into hope and hope into excitement, rather quickly.

Like with the Commonwealth Games. For months, one only read or saw TV reports of rampant favouritism and corruption in the organisation of the games. Over the last week or so, everyone seems to be pulling together for Delhi's moment of glory.

Even my little one. She declared the Commonwealth Games open on Sunday morning. The first thing she said on waking up was, "Daddy, shall we play Commonwealth Games?"

I am sure you wouldn't blame me for the panic it caused. She is too young to learn about bending the rules, beating the system and making loads of money in the process. I am not even sure if the makers of Monopoly have sought to make an Indian version of their game.

Some of the panic was misplaced. All that the little one had in mind were a few races, covering the length and breadth of our living room.

"Whoever wins, gets a metal", she said. No, darling. The winner gets a medal. No, the winner gets a metal. You are right. The medals are made of metals, but they are still medals. No, it is metal. Fine then. We are in agreement.

First on the agenda was the sprint. Daddy, you have to walk slowly. I can run as fast as I want to. Hang on, wasn't this the kind of rule-bending that organisers of CWG were being accused of? Stop being cynical, I told myself. Go with the flow and enjoy the spirit of the game.

After being presented with a gold metal and waving at the crowds, we moved on to the next event - a hopping race.

The little one had set the rules for this one as well. She could hop or run at will, but I had to stick to hopping. I could suddenly visualise her turning into an able Indian sports administrator. Let me qualify that. A sports administrator in India.

Event by event, I was hammered. "I am the winner. You are the loser," she sang. I tried to reason with her that sports wasn't about winning or losing. It was about participating and enjoying the experience.

But then again, the CWG2010 anthem isn't too kind to losers. It insists that everyone should rise, move forward and win. The chorus goes: "Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't lose. Don't lose. Don't lose."

It does say, however, that victory should be attained by playing with passion and within rules.

And to be honest, though she bent the rules a wee bit, the passion was there. The first day of the games at Anand Niketan ended with the biggest metal haul for one participant. My girl won nearly a hundred of them - all gold, of course.

This morning too, she came, gave me a hug and said: "Daddy, shall we play Commonwealth Games?" Today being a weekday, another day of sporting events was not possible.

However, we don't want this enthusiasm for sports to disappear. So serious thinking is on at our household to buy tickets for events that the little one would like to see.