Hi. Do you know the number to call the police in Delhi? It was my wife at the other end.
I wondered if someone had got away with my Dad's car, that we are borrowing currently. Or maybe broke into our house.
It was something more serious. My wife and the little one were locked in the park near our house. Three Iranian kids were also trapped inside the park.
The park is owned by the Municipal Corporation of Delhi (MCD) and they generally don't lock up their parks. In fact, they have never locked their parks - for years, allowing ready access to men, women, children, cats, dogs, cows, buffaloes.....some of them even choosing to s**t on the not-so-green lawns!!
The park is surrounded by spike-grills, so climbing over and escaping was not an option. With darkness setting in, spending the night seemed a realistic possibility unless someone could open or break the lock.
But no one around seemed to know who had the lock - and, more importantly, the key - to the park. They could only smile at the predicament of the five individuals trapped in the park.
An old man, passing through, suddenly remembered. Mr Kapoor.....in Number 51.....he has the key to the park. Mr Kapoor happened to live several houses away from the park and had taken ownership of the park. If someone wanted to use the park, he held the key.......But Mr Kapoor wouldn't respond to the ringing bell. In fact, he let loose his dogs fearing he was under attack.
That is something so interesting about Delhi and India. Almost everyone accepts things on face-value. If someone challenges this thinking, they smile or laugh at his/her idiocy. Worse still, they advise him/her against turning a non-issue into an issue. But if this challenge is successful in changing things, they applaud and lament why more people don't stand up more often and fight.
When my wife raised her voice, one of guards - smiling all this while - remembered where the key was. He had borrowed it from Mr Kapoor for his employer's kids to play in the park. He went inside the house and got the key.
Why did you lock the park? my wife thundered. Ignoring the question, he said: I am now opening the park, aren't I? Do you want to come out or stay inside? My wife said the police were on their way and maybe he should wait until then. The guard laughed at what he saw as an empty threat and turned around.
Suddenly, as it happens in films, the cops arrived with the siren blazing. The guard's face went white. His employer suddenly found the time to come out as well.
Mr Kapoor was still safely inside the house. His dogs were still barking at the top of their voice.
Who locked the park? one of the cops demanded to know. The employer said: Sir, the park is locked to make sure that no unsavoury characters come into the park. The cops seemed satisfied with the answer......Until my wife asked: Isn't this a public park? How can someone own it and put it under a lock and key?
Yes, you must at least put a notice - the cop helpfully suggested. My wife clarified that that wasn't the point. The point was that there were five people in the park and the person locking the park hadn't bothered to inform them. If those kids weren't trying to get out, we wouldn't even have found out that we haven't been locked.
The three Iranian kids were in the 7-10 year range and probably belonged to family working at the Iranian Embassy. When the cops were reminded that this such things would not only damage the country's reputation but could blow into something bigger, they were a bit more serious.
Mr Kapoor would still not come out of his house to explain the situation. And his dogs were barking harder.
The cop worked out what the solution was. I am taking away this lock. He then suggested that my wife forget and forgive the incident.
My wife was in no mood to forgive. And rightly so. The aged/retired owners of the houses in Anand Niketan love the money/prestige that the young foreign tenants bring - but would like them to be restricted to just the house. The parks are for older folk to soak in the sunshine and socialise. After all, what need does a kid have for a park?
The little one was excited by the action around her. Mum, we must teach them a lesson. She had heard her Mum saying she'll teach the perpetrators a lesson.
The employer explained the situation. The local residents have only recently invested 40,000 INR (£550) in the swings and the rides. We don't want these destroyed by older kids.
My wife wondered whether this was a serious comment or a comment made in jest, as a much older maid - accompanying the kids of the employer - was enjoying the swing without posing any risk to its stability.
The employer opened up a bit further. Those kids have come here before and had to be discouraged from using the park. So, the guard locked the gate and walked away.
Then, as if he was doing a big favour, said: What can I do for the time you spent trapped? I have already said sorry.
My wife blew a fuse: What do you mean by sorry? First you say this was done on purpose. Then, your guard sat here acting as if he didn't know who locked the park or had the key. You yourself only come out when the police arrived. This is a public park, and if only to prove a point, I will bring my child to play here all this week. Just try locking the gate again.
The little one beamed seeing her Mum shut up a "naughty uncle". And related the entire story to whoever she spoke to - in the evening - and to me when I got home.
She was certainly proud of her Mum. And I am too.
Mr Kapoor? Well, he was still shielded by those barking dogs and the main door.
23 February 2010
22 February 2010
Delhi's dash of red and Mughal Gardens
The swelling has gone but the little one seems addicted to the nasal drops.
The recommended dose was a couple of drops three times a day, but she insists on a top-up every couple of hours. Daddy, can you please put the drops in my nose? After a week of convincing how big girls are not scared of nasal drops, Daddy has to now dissuade her from using the nasal drops too often.
Thankfully, the antibiotics were neither administered nor needed. The nasal drops cleared out the blood clots and the pain was gone within a few days.
Eager to make the most of a weekend that didn't involve a birthday party or a visit to the hospital, we paid the Andhra Bhawan another visit on Saturday.
Yes, the same Andhra Bhawan that serves yummy thali and biryani. But this time, on a friend's recommendation, we went upstairs. What's so special about it? You don't have to buy coupons and queue up here.
The friend said it is meant for residents, politicians, government functionaries or other important people. We didn't fit any of these categories, but the manager was maybe fooled by our confidence in walking in while many people waited downstairs.
The food wasn't as exciting as our previous outing to this place. On offer were fried potatoes, curried okra and mashed bottle-gourd, apart from the usual fare of pooris, rice, rasam, sambar, daal and yogurt. But it was fresh and hot and offered a nice break from the usual fare one gets eating out in Delhi.
The plan was to follow this up with a visit to Children's Park (the same drill as last time). But the circle around India Gate was choc-a-bloc with buses ferrying kids on a day out. Winter is almost on its way out and everyone is eager to make the most of the sun while it is bearable. The rides were teeming with kids and there is no way our little one would have got a go.
So, we headed out to my wife's alma mater, Jamia Millia Islamia. It is our friend's alma mater too and he stays just behind the university. He has recently acquired two doves - Martha and Lead - and the little one wanted to play with them.
In the five or so months that we have been in Delhi, we had never passed through Jamia during the day. My wife remarked that the place was looking different. The area has benefited from all the work being carried out for the Commonwealth Games, explained the friend. That Sports Centre will be a practice venue for the athletes and obviously if they come here, the surrounding buildings need to look nice too.
Like the rest of central and south Delhi, Jamia also has a liberal dash of red. The reason? Key historical structures in Delhi are made of red stone and it seems the municipal authorities want to bring all the structures in sync with the red stone structures.
Once we got to the friend's place, I chose to take a quick nap while my little one terrorised the two doves. They hid themselves wherever they could until they were found.
Sunday was spent at Mughal Gardens in the President's House. Developed by Sir Edwin Lutyens, it is spread over 15 acres and includes all kinds of herbs and flowers.
Every year, it is opened to public for a month. As probably the only free public attractions in Delhi, it brings in thousands of people. Bus-loads of school-children and tourists come from Delhi and neighbouring states to visit the garden - especially over the weekend.
I had visited the Mughal Garden many times as a kid, but Delhi has changed dramatically since. There is lot more security and the construction of Delhi Metro means getting to Gate 35 of the President's Estate - which has the main entry to the Mughal Garden - takes a while.
As we were parking the car, we could hear the loudspeakers warning against taking bags, mobile phones, cameras, water bottles and eatables inside. For some reason, there were more men visiting the garden than women. So, my better half and little one were inside within minutes.
I was at the back of long queue which took its time moving as the policeman felt up each visitor at leisure to ensure that no flower was put to risk. Either side of the queue were a lot of discarded pens, tobacco sachets, medicines and toffees. When my turn came, the policeman raised an objection. Your car-key has a remote. It is not allowed inside.
It was time to queue up in a different place. The policemen looked at me with disdain as I held out my car and home keys. After a few minutes of ignoring me and taking stuff from other people, he said: Wait for your turn. I told him that was precisely what I was doing as he entertained those jumping the queue. So, you have to stop people from jumping the queue. Isn't that your responsibility? No, my responsibility is to take stuff and store it.
Before I could say anything more, the other cop said: Why don't you shut up or else Sir won't even take your key. That was enough to make me fall in line.
That said, the Mughal Garden is beautiful. It has many varieties of roses - red, white, orange and pink - dahlias, tulips, marigolds and other colourful flowers. The flowers are in full bloom around this time and a sight to be enjoyed.
However, with hundreds of people - young and old - jostling for the narrow walkway, the tour was over within an hour.
Just outside the Garden, the President's Estate has put up a stall to exhibit its vegetable produce. Sab rang ke laga diya hai (They have coloured before putting it on display), a visitor standing next to me remarked.
Another one remarked to his friend, "Itne saare phool dekhein hain. Inmein se ek ka bhi naam yaad rahega tujhe? (You have seen so many flowers. Will you remember the name if even one?)".
Amidst all this, one person was happy. She was hopping about and trying to balance herself on the edge of the footpath. Careful, I said. You remember what happened last........She was flat on her face before I could complete my sentence.
Thankfully, there were no injuries or bruises this time.
The recommended dose was a couple of drops three times a day, but she insists on a top-up every couple of hours. Daddy, can you please put the drops in my nose? After a week of convincing how big girls are not scared of nasal drops, Daddy has to now dissuade her from using the nasal drops too often.
Thankfully, the antibiotics were neither administered nor needed. The nasal drops cleared out the blood clots and the pain was gone within a few days.
Eager to make the most of a weekend that didn't involve a birthday party or a visit to the hospital, we paid the Andhra Bhawan another visit on Saturday.
Yes, the same Andhra Bhawan that serves yummy thali and biryani. But this time, on a friend's recommendation, we went upstairs. What's so special about it? You don't have to buy coupons and queue up here.
The friend said it is meant for residents, politicians, government functionaries or other important people. We didn't fit any of these categories, but the manager was maybe fooled by our confidence in walking in while many people waited downstairs.
The food wasn't as exciting as our previous outing to this place. On offer were fried potatoes, curried okra and mashed bottle-gourd, apart from the usual fare of pooris, rice, rasam, sambar, daal and yogurt. But it was fresh and hot and offered a nice break from the usual fare one gets eating out in Delhi.
The plan was to follow this up with a visit to Children's Park (the same drill as last time). But the circle around India Gate was choc-a-bloc with buses ferrying kids on a day out. Winter is almost on its way out and everyone is eager to make the most of the sun while it is bearable. The rides were teeming with kids and there is no way our little one would have got a go.
So, we headed out to my wife's alma mater, Jamia Millia Islamia. It is our friend's alma mater too and he stays just behind the university. He has recently acquired two doves - Martha and Lead - and the little one wanted to play with them.
In the five or so months that we have been in Delhi, we had never passed through Jamia during the day. My wife remarked that the place was looking different. The area has benefited from all the work being carried out for the Commonwealth Games, explained the friend. That Sports Centre will be a practice venue for the athletes and obviously if they come here, the surrounding buildings need to look nice too.
Like the rest of central and south Delhi, Jamia also has a liberal dash of red. The reason? Key historical structures in Delhi are made of red stone and it seems the municipal authorities want to bring all the structures in sync with the red stone structures.
Once we got to the friend's place, I chose to take a quick nap while my little one terrorised the two doves. They hid themselves wherever they could until they were found.
Sunday was spent at Mughal Gardens in the President's House. Developed by Sir Edwin Lutyens, it is spread over 15 acres and includes all kinds of herbs and flowers.
Every year, it is opened to public for a month. As probably the only free public attractions in Delhi, it brings in thousands of people. Bus-loads of school-children and tourists come from Delhi and neighbouring states to visit the garden - especially over the weekend.
I had visited the Mughal Garden many times as a kid, but Delhi has changed dramatically since. There is lot more security and the construction of Delhi Metro means getting to Gate 35 of the President's Estate - which has the main entry to the Mughal Garden - takes a while.
As we were parking the car, we could hear the loudspeakers warning against taking bags, mobile phones, cameras, water bottles and eatables inside. For some reason, there were more men visiting the garden than women. So, my better half and little one were inside within minutes.
I was at the back of long queue which took its time moving as the policeman felt up each visitor at leisure to ensure that no flower was put to risk. Either side of the queue were a lot of discarded pens, tobacco sachets, medicines and toffees. When my turn came, the policeman raised an objection. Your car-key has a remote. It is not allowed inside.
It was time to queue up in a different place. The policemen looked at me with disdain as I held out my car and home keys. After a few minutes of ignoring me and taking stuff from other people, he said: Wait for your turn. I told him that was precisely what I was doing as he entertained those jumping the queue. So, you have to stop people from jumping the queue. Isn't that your responsibility? No, my responsibility is to take stuff and store it.
Before I could say anything more, the other cop said: Why don't you shut up or else Sir won't even take your key. That was enough to make me fall in line.
That said, the Mughal Garden is beautiful. It has many varieties of roses - red, white, orange and pink - dahlias, tulips, marigolds and other colourful flowers. The flowers are in full bloom around this time and a sight to be enjoyed.
However, with hundreds of people - young and old - jostling for the narrow walkway, the tour was over within an hour.
Just outside the Garden, the President's Estate has put up a stall to exhibit its vegetable produce. Sab rang ke laga diya hai (They have coloured before putting it on display), a visitor standing next to me remarked.
Another one remarked to his friend, "Itne saare phool dekhein hain. Inmein se ek ka bhi naam yaad rahega tujhe? (You have seen so many flowers. Will you remember the name if even one?)".
Amidst all this, one person was happy. She was hopping about and trying to balance herself on the edge of the footpath. Careful, I said. You remember what happened last........She was flat on her face before I could complete my sentence.
Thankfully, there were no injuries or bruises this time.
17 February 2010
She's feeling better now
The little one is on the mend, though the swelling will take some time to heal.
Had to take her to Moolchand on Tuesday evening, as the swelling had gotten worse. There were blue marks under the eye and on the nose.
The doctor said this wasn't an emergency, so we should come to the regular Outpatients Department.
Moolchand is a very different hospital to what it used to be. Plush interiors, shiny floors, leather chairs, well-equipped clinics and smartly-dressed staff. And yes, Khairatiram sounds too old-fashioned for a modern hospital - so the hospital is officially Moolchand rather than the Moolchand Khairatiram Hospital that we knew it as.
The one thing still missing is politeness. The male receptionist was busy playing 'Park Your Car' (or some such game), and couldn't be bothered with the patients or their kins. So, it was down to his female counterpart who was obviously feeling the pressure.
"Patient's name? 450 rupees." were the two phrases she uttered while checking us in.
The doctor hadn't arrived yet, so we were asked to occupy the seats in front of his room. One things that has definitely changed since we have been here is forcing our way through a queue. After spending months being polite, we have realised what a waste of time and effort it is.
So, the moment my better half spotted the doctor, we rushed into his room. He hadn't switched on the light or put his bag on the desk when we occupied the chairs.
Looks OK to me. The swelling will take a few more days to go. He wrote another cocktail of antibiotics, pain-killer and nasal drops. But she had antibiotics just a few months back, my wife said. How does that matter? This is to make sure that any blood clots inside the nasal passage don't turn into an infection.
The appointment was over within 10 minutes. It took considerably more time to get to the hospital and back than the doctor spent on the little girl.
Had to take her to Moolchand on Tuesday evening, as the swelling had gotten worse. There were blue marks under the eye and on the nose.
The doctor said this wasn't an emergency, so we should come to the regular Outpatients Department.
Moolchand is a very different hospital to what it used to be. Plush interiors, shiny floors, leather chairs, well-equipped clinics and smartly-dressed staff. And yes, Khairatiram sounds too old-fashioned for a modern hospital - so the hospital is officially Moolchand rather than the Moolchand Khairatiram Hospital that we knew it as.
The one thing still missing is politeness. The male receptionist was busy playing 'Park Your Car' (or some such game), and couldn't be bothered with the patients or their kins. So, it was down to his female counterpart who was obviously feeling the pressure.
"Patient's name? 450 rupees." were the two phrases she uttered while checking us in.
The doctor hadn't arrived yet, so we were asked to occupy the seats in front of his room. One things that has definitely changed since we have been here is forcing our way through a queue. After spending months being polite, we have realised what a waste of time and effort it is.
So, the moment my better half spotted the doctor, we rushed into his room. He hadn't switched on the light or put his bag on the desk when we occupied the chairs.
Looks OK to me. The swelling will take a few more days to go. He wrote another cocktail of antibiotics, pain-killer and nasal drops. But she had antibiotics just a few months back, my wife said. How does that matter? This is to make sure that any blood clots inside the nasal passage don't turn into an infection.
The appointment was over within 10 minutes. It took considerably more time to get to the hospital and back than the doctor spent on the little girl.
15 February 2010
An eventful week!
Been missing from this blog for almost a week now.
No, it isn't about flagging interest or lack of things to write on.
The school admission process has been tiring. The proof of residence. The certificates. The affidavits. Dealing with the guards, who are the new front-office of various schools. Dealing with semi-literate clerks, if you get through the gates. Dealing with more questions regarding our status - settled or newly-moved? Dealing with a process whereby schools offer and charge for a Prospectus only after admission has been secured.
During the last few months, friends have often asked "If you have to go in September, why endure all this hassle?" They have a point. Up until July, the little one will only have a month in the school. After that, another three months before it is time to pack up and leave.
But the dilemma for us has been - what if something changes in that time? Six months is a long time and she will lose a year, if something does change. And if nothing changes, four months in a Delhi school will set her on the path to GCSEs in four years' time!!
The school admissions process is also an effort to test ourselves. How do we rate as parents in India? Can we secure admission in a good school for our little one?
The final score stood thus. Four Successes. Four failures. The little one got through in No.1 (Shri Ram School) and No. 2 (Springdales School) schools of South-West Delhi. Carmel Convent and Tagore International were the other successes. After completing the formalities, which includes a 45,000 INR (£620) fee, the No. 1 school has taken her in.
In the meantime, her playschool has started the drill for a proper school. Parents have to leave their ward at the gate and the little one then works his/her way to the classroom. Teachers are around to lend a helping hand, but it's a big step in the journey to self-reliance for these young individuals.
The admissions process has been tough on the little one too. She hasn't got the attention and time she is used to. So, once the admission was sorted out, we planned to spend the entire weekend with her.
On Saturday, we took her to the The Garden of Five Senses in Saket. More familiar to locals as the Said-ul-Ajaib, the 20-acre park "was conceptualised to answer the city's need for leisure space for the public, for people to socialise and unwind" (Delhi Tourism website).
Inaugurated in 2003, it has become an important part of the greenery that defines Delhi. The park brings together people of different ages and backgrounds. Senior citizens meet each other for a game of Bingo and lunch. Young families meet here for picnic with friends. And those younger and single meet up for canoodling.
Call it the dilemma of being a parent, but I spent most of my time wondering which areas to avoid. Not with much success, though. Almost every route took us past couples wanting to avoid prying eyes. Thankfully, the look wasn't one of contempt but more of "what is this idiot thinking walking around with his wife and little kid?"
The visit was over with 30 minutes, and we made our way to Select City Walk mall in Saket - probably the kind of place where people with young families are seen more these days.
On Sunday, the little one was invited to a birthday party. After Saturday's misadventure, she was quite excited about being in company of other kids. Too much excitement, perhaps. One moment, she was dancing. The next moment, her nose was bleeding. She had jumped and fallen on the concrete floor.
The nose and the lips swelled up soon and she was in considerable pain. So, we took her to the Moolchand Hospital in Lajpat Nagar in south Delhi. After looking at her, the doctor concluded that it just a bad fall and not a fracture. He recommended the familiar cocktail of pain-killer, antibiotics and nose-drops.
This certainly wasn't how we wanted the weekend to end. But it was a better situation than the parents whose girl had put beads and thermocol balls in her ears. Or the girl who had put something up her nose and was having trouble breathing.
No, it isn't about flagging interest or lack of things to write on.
The school admission process has been tiring. The proof of residence. The certificates. The affidavits. Dealing with the guards, who are the new front-office of various schools. Dealing with semi-literate clerks, if you get through the gates. Dealing with more questions regarding our status - settled or newly-moved? Dealing with a process whereby schools offer and charge for a Prospectus only after admission has been secured.
During the last few months, friends have often asked "If you have to go in September, why endure all this hassle?" They have a point. Up until July, the little one will only have a month in the school. After that, another three months before it is time to pack up and leave.
But the dilemma for us has been - what if something changes in that time? Six months is a long time and she will lose a year, if something does change. And if nothing changes, four months in a Delhi school will set her on the path to GCSEs in four years' time!!
The school admissions process is also an effort to test ourselves. How do we rate as parents in India? Can we secure admission in a good school for our little one?
The final score stood thus. Four Successes. Four failures. The little one got through in No.1 (Shri Ram School) and No. 2 (Springdales School) schools of South-West Delhi. Carmel Convent and Tagore International were the other successes. After completing the formalities, which includes a 45,000 INR (£620) fee, the No. 1 school has taken her in.
In the meantime, her playschool has started the drill for a proper school. Parents have to leave their ward at the gate and the little one then works his/her way to the classroom. Teachers are around to lend a helping hand, but it's a big step in the journey to self-reliance for these young individuals.
The admissions process has been tough on the little one too. She hasn't got the attention and time she is used to. So, once the admission was sorted out, we planned to spend the entire weekend with her.
On Saturday, we took her to the The Garden of Five Senses in Saket. More familiar to locals as the Said-ul-Ajaib, the 20-acre park "was conceptualised to answer the city's need for leisure space for the public, for people to socialise and unwind" (Delhi Tourism website).
Inaugurated in 2003, it has become an important part of the greenery that defines Delhi. The park brings together people of different ages and backgrounds. Senior citizens meet each other for a game of Bingo and lunch. Young families meet here for picnic with friends. And those younger and single meet up for canoodling.
Call it the dilemma of being a parent, but I spent most of my time wondering which areas to avoid. Not with much success, though. Almost every route took us past couples wanting to avoid prying eyes. Thankfully, the look wasn't one of contempt but more of "what is this idiot thinking walking around with his wife and little kid?"
The visit was over with 30 minutes, and we made our way to Select City Walk mall in Saket - probably the kind of place where people with young families are seen more these days.
On Sunday, the little one was invited to a birthday party. After Saturday's misadventure, she was quite excited about being in company of other kids. Too much excitement, perhaps. One moment, she was dancing. The next moment, her nose was bleeding. She had jumped and fallen on the concrete floor.
The nose and the lips swelled up soon and she was in considerable pain. So, we took her to the Moolchand Hospital in Lajpat Nagar in south Delhi. After looking at her, the doctor concluded that it just a bad fall and not a fracture. He recommended the familiar cocktail of pain-killer, antibiotics and nose-drops.
This certainly wasn't how we wanted the weekend to end. But it was a better situation than the parents whose girl had put beads and thermocol balls in her ears. Or the girl who had put something up her nose and was having trouble breathing.
4 February 2010
Another day, another affidavit
Looks like the need for the affidavits isn't over yet.
Among the documents requested by Shri Ram School is an affidavit stating my address, the name of my daughter, that she is my first and only child and the date we moved to India.
Thankfully, they have provided a set proforma for the same - which I took to the Patiala House district courts on Wednesday.
My usual lawyer wasn't there, but his typist and office boy were.
The office boy recognised me straightaway. You did take four or five of these recently, didn't you? I nodded. No problems, we can do this for you. It'll cost you 300 rupees. I reminded him that this wasn't a Magistrate's Affidavit and in any case had paid 200 rupees the last time. Don't worry about the price, Sir. Tell me what needs to be done.
I didn't want to wait and asked when the lawyer would come. You don't need him for the affidavit, the typist said. So who will notarise the affidavit? There are many others around who can do it. And he will charge you much more than I would.
And what exactly would the standard affidavit cost me? 100 rupees. I asked him if the word IDIOT was writ large on my face. Why? I reminded him that the lawyer had charged me 80 rupees only. OK, just give me 70 rupees, he said as he started typing the affidavit.
Even though I had seen the set-up before, it impressed me. The main machine was a laptop with Windows Vista on it. This was wirelessly connected to a keyboard and a printer. Months (probably, years) of practice meant the words were flowing quickly.
Unfortunately, the language wasn't as effortless. The typos I could live with, but seeing "for the 2010-2011 academic session" into "for the 2010-2011 academic secession" frightened me a bit. I am not a revolutionary, sir, and have no intentions of breaking up the school. They are the only school to have offered a seat to my daughter.
Thankfully, I read and understand what those words meant. Imagine the plight of an uneducated individual, who is already struggling to make sense of charges against him/her, putting their signature (or more probably, their thumb impression) to:
"I am ____ s/0, d/o, w/o _________ r/o ________ do hereby solemnly affirm and state as follows:
*That I will make myself available at the next secession of the court.
I have read and understood the contents of this Affidavit, which
has been drafted by me / under my instructions and I say that the
contents thereof are true and correct to my knowledge."
Among the documents requested by Shri Ram School is an affidavit stating my address, the name of my daughter, that she is my first and only child and the date we moved to India.
Thankfully, they have provided a set proforma for the same - which I took to the Patiala House district courts on Wednesday.
My usual lawyer wasn't there, but his typist and office boy were.
The office boy recognised me straightaway. You did take four or five of these recently, didn't you? I nodded. No problems, we can do this for you. It'll cost you 300 rupees. I reminded him that this wasn't a Magistrate's Affidavit and in any case had paid 200 rupees the last time. Don't worry about the price, Sir. Tell me what needs to be done.
I didn't want to wait and asked when the lawyer would come. You don't need him for the affidavit, the typist said. So who will notarise the affidavit? There are many others around who can do it. And he will charge you much more than I would.
And what exactly would the standard affidavit cost me? 100 rupees. I asked him if the word IDIOT was writ large on my face. Why? I reminded him that the lawyer had charged me 80 rupees only. OK, just give me 70 rupees, he said as he started typing the affidavit.
Even though I had seen the set-up before, it impressed me. The main machine was a laptop with Windows Vista on it. This was wirelessly connected to a keyboard and a printer. Months (probably, years) of practice meant the words were flowing quickly.
Unfortunately, the language wasn't as effortless. The typos I could live with, but seeing "for the 2010-2011 academic session" into "for the 2010-2011 academic secession" frightened me a bit. I am not a revolutionary, sir, and have no intentions of breaking up the school. They are the only school to have offered a seat to my daughter.
Thankfully, I read and understand what those words meant. Imagine the plight of an uneducated individual, who is already struggling to make sense of charges against him/her, putting their signature (or more probably, their thumb impression) to:
"I am ____ s/0, d/o, w/o _________ r/o ________ do hereby solemnly affirm and state as follows:
*That I will make myself available at the next secession of the court.
I have read and understood the contents of this Affidavit, which
has been drafted by me / under my instructions and I say that the
contents thereof are true and correct to my knowledge."
2 February 2010
Is Shri Ram School the new Harvard?
One of the talking points at work on Monday was Bad of luck, parents - an article written by Kate Darnton.
"It is just a rant from a woman unable to get her kids into Shri Ram School," someone said. "What exactly is she trying to say? That the guards at Shri Ram School didn't let her past the gate and that her emails to the school were ignored," someone else remarked.
Some were aghast that the article had found a place of prominence on the Op-Ed page of The Hindustan Times - one of the biggest newspapers in Delhi. This is not even proper journalism. Some Googled to find out who this woman was. Looks like she works for the Boston Globe.
The reason for all this excitement was the release of shortlist for admission to Delhi schools. Actually, that should be admission to Delhi's private schools.
The process that kicked off nearly six weeks - and involved filling up forms, writing essays, arranging legal documents and engaging in informal interactions about parenting and education - had come to fruition.
Kate Darnton's point was straight-forward. If you live in South Delhi, you constantly hear of just two schools - Vasant Valley and Shri Ram School. Both of these adhere to modern teaching methods, focus on all-round development of children and aren't shy (i.e., dismissive) of taking in special needs children.
There's Sanskriti too, but it is a school run by spouses of top government officials, for the kids of top government officials or those high enough in the echelons of power. And then there are long-standing successes like Delhi Public School and Modern School - whose primary focus is academic success.
Kate's argument was that you had a better chance of getting into Harvard than in Shri Ram School - "Over the past few weeks, the school’s website has listed 1,575 three-year-old candidates competing for 112 spots, including 40 spots reserved for the EWS (‘Economically Weaker Section’), staff, and management. With only 72 remaining seats, that leaves each regular candidate a 4.7 per cent chance of getting in. Last year’s acceptance rate at Harvard College was 7.1 per cent".
It is a day of elation and self-congratulation for a select few. A day of disappointment and self-doubt for many."
I am not sure about the critics of Kate's piece, but I was travelling in the same boat as her.
Soon after getting into work, I started checking the websites of the various schools we had applied to. Vasant Valley? Yippee, I can see a matching name. Hang on, the surname doesn't match. And the mother's name is different too. DPS Vasant Kunj? No matching name there. Banyan Tree School? No matching name there either.
Then the phone rang. It was my better half. I am just outside Modern School. The little one's name isn't there. And Springdales School won't release their list until 6 February.
Suddenly, a glimmer of hope. I can see the right child/mother name combination on the shortlist for Tagore International School. Not our first choice, but it is an established educational institution.
What about Shri Ram School? I was still on the phone with my wife. They will be releasing the list around 4.00 in the evening - as they want to put it out on web at the same time as school's notice-board.
So that is what our six-week effort had come to. Four failures. One Success. Two suspended animations.
It most certainly wasn't a good beginning to the week. Like Kate, we had eavesdropped into numerous conversations on strategies and connections that may be brought to use to secure admission into Vasant Valley or Shri Ram School. Like her, we didn't get past the guards in many places. Like her, we spent considerable effort in making the right impression on the schools we applied to.
Thankfully, the evening brought some cheer to us. When Shri Ram School made its list of successful candidates online, it had our little one's name in it. The list didn't have the parents' name, so we can't be 100% sure - but then one has to be really unlucky to have another child by the same name, applying to the same school and being successful.
A letter from the school should be in the post soon, settling this doubt. After that, the school needs to verify the documents - including an affidavit that the little one is our first and a girl child - and the fee to be paid.
Fingers crossed and hope there are no nasty surprises lurking around the corner!!
"It is just a rant from a woman unable to get her kids into Shri Ram School," someone said. "What exactly is she trying to say? That the guards at Shri Ram School didn't let her past the gate and that her emails to the school were ignored," someone else remarked.
Some were aghast that the article had found a place of prominence on the Op-Ed page of The Hindustan Times - one of the biggest newspapers in Delhi. This is not even proper journalism. Some Googled to find out who this woman was. Looks like she works for the Boston Globe.
The reason for all this excitement was the release of shortlist for admission to Delhi schools. Actually, that should be admission to Delhi's private schools.
The process that kicked off nearly six weeks - and involved filling up forms, writing essays, arranging legal documents and engaging in informal interactions about parenting and education - had come to fruition.
Kate Darnton's point was straight-forward. If you live in South Delhi, you constantly hear of just two schools - Vasant Valley and Shri Ram School. Both of these adhere to modern teaching methods, focus on all-round development of children and aren't shy (i.e., dismissive) of taking in special needs children.
There's Sanskriti too, but it is a school run by spouses of top government officials, for the kids of top government officials or those high enough in the echelons of power. And then there are long-standing successes like Delhi Public School and Modern School - whose primary focus is academic success.
Kate's argument was that you had a better chance of getting into Harvard than in Shri Ram School - "Over the past few weeks, the school’s website has listed 1,575 three-year-old candidates competing for 112 spots, including 40 spots reserved for the EWS (‘Economically Weaker Section’), staff, and management. With only 72 remaining seats, that leaves each regular candidate a 4.7 per cent chance of getting in. Last year’s acceptance rate at Harvard College was 7.1 per cent".
It is a day of elation and self-congratulation for a select few. A day of disappointment and self-doubt for many."
I am not sure about the critics of Kate's piece, but I was travelling in the same boat as her.
Soon after getting into work, I started checking the websites of the various schools we had applied to. Vasant Valley? Yippee, I can see a matching name. Hang on, the surname doesn't match. And the mother's name is different too. DPS Vasant Kunj? No matching name there. Banyan Tree School? No matching name there either.
Then the phone rang. It was my better half. I am just outside Modern School. The little one's name isn't there. And Springdales School won't release their list until 6 February.
Suddenly, a glimmer of hope. I can see the right child/mother name combination on the shortlist for Tagore International School. Not our first choice, but it is an established educational institution.
What about Shri Ram School? I was still on the phone with my wife. They will be releasing the list around 4.00 in the evening - as they want to put it out on web at the same time as school's notice-board.
So that is what our six-week effort had come to. Four failures. One Success. Two suspended animations.
It most certainly wasn't a good beginning to the week. Like Kate, we had eavesdropped into numerous conversations on strategies and connections that may be brought to use to secure admission into Vasant Valley or Shri Ram School. Like her, we didn't get past the guards in many places. Like her, we spent considerable effort in making the right impression on the schools we applied to.
Thankfully, the evening brought some cheer to us. When Shri Ram School made its list of successful candidates online, it had our little one's name in it. The list didn't have the parents' name, so we can't be 100% sure - but then one has to be really unlucky to have another child by the same name, applying to the same school and being successful.
A letter from the school should be in the post soon, settling this doubt. After that, the school needs to verify the documents - including an affidavit that the little one is our first and a girl child - and the fee to be paid.
Fingers crossed and hope there are no nasty surprises lurking around the corner!!
1 February 2010
Two birthdays and three birthday parties!
Apologies for missing from this blog for almost a week. I had been busy with two birthdays and three birthday parties.
My little one was born three years and a day after one of her cousins. So, the festivities started on Thursday with the cousin's birthday. It was a weekday, so we opted to attend the friends-and-family do on Saturday.
Friday was the little one's birthday. I had planned to take the day off, but she had a party at her play-school. We (actually my wife) decided to have a little dinner for parents in the evening where all of us could get together.
As luck would have it, an interview request I had put in for an IT major came through on Friday evening. Unfortunately, he can only do this time and then he is off for three weeks. Don't worry, we will start at 6.30 pm and wrap up by 7.00 pm. For sure.
Braving the peak-hour traffic between Delhi and Gurgaon (which is one of the Indian home of the big IT majors), we got to the venue on time. He is on an important conference call. Do you want to set up your equipment and he'll join you soon. Soon turned out to be almost an hour late.
The interview jokingly suggested that I make a dart-board with his picture on it. You can tell your daughter that this is the man who delayed your Dad. But his spin-doctor had other ideas. Here is a little something from us. The little something was a USB Storage Device, just the kind of thing you would give a four-year-old.
Thankfully, the little one was still awake when I got in around 8.45 pm. We got to spend some time together and celebrate the occasion.
Saturday was the cousin's birthday party in Gurgaon. It was scheduled for 12.00 pm and we were there 20 or so minutes late. Yet again, we were the first guests to arrive. Most guests started floating in around 1.00-1.30 pm - with one coming around 3.00 pm.
On our way back, I had a unique experience. I was driving on the fastest lane on the NH-8, which connects Gurgaon and Delhi. Suddenly, the red brake lights of the car in front of me flashed. I braked immediately to avoid running into that car.
There were about six or seven cars in front of me, all having braked with a feet or less of each other. Worried that someone had had a bad accident, I inched forward carefully.
It was nothing of the sort. A man had missed one of exits on the 80 km per hour motorway and wanted to reverse 200 hundred yards to get to the exit. You could have killed someone with your stupidity, I told the man. He was totally unperturbed and busy reversing his car.
Sunday was our 'party in the park' for the little one. She wanted a Nemo Cake and Pizzas at her party. Delhi weather has improved in the last few days and it seemed like an idea we could deliver on. After toying with Nehru Park and Lodhi Gardens, we settled on the park in the front of our house.
Notices displayed all over the park warn against gambling, drinking, throwing garbage and ball games but don't say anything about get-together. And it has a lot of benches for people to sit and enjoy the sun on.
To my surprise, the guests started arriving well before the schedule start time of 12.00. After taking them to the corner we had identified for the party, I headed off to pick up the Nemo cake. While I was away, my wife got summoned by an elderly neighbour - Organising parties in the park is not allowed. Ever since some foreigners did it, the environment has been spoiled.
No, the foreigners didn't leave any toxic waste in the park. They had a get-together with friends for a kid's birthday. They left the park in the same condition they found it, didn't talk loudly, didn't organise loud music that blared late into the night and didn't take up parking lots allocated to the residents.
Isn't that what parks are meant for? For use by residents who pay for and care for the park and aren't fond of putting up tents and offer matar-paneer, daal makhani, pulao and naan to celebrate something?
Luckily, my better half took the more sensible route out of this - by playing the we are new to this locality card.
The elderly lady chose not to take the matter any further. It was a lovely sunny day and my better half had organised face-painting, pass the parcel, bubble-makers and a balloon-seller for the party. The first three were a hit but the last one didn't attract too much interest.
The pizzas arrived at 1.30, as did a couple of small bottles of Coke - to mess up our no-fizzy-drinks resolve. The little one soon discovered it, as did some grown-ups. I had to give in and get a big bottle to allow some refills.
Some considerate guests and the eager gardener helped us return the park to its original self within minutes. The remaining guests moved upstairs to our house to continue the party.
I haven't bumped into the elderly lady yet, but am sure stories are going around about the foreigners who are spoiling the environment!!
My little one was born three years and a day after one of her cousins. So, the festivities started on Thursday with the cousin's birthday. It was a weekday, so we opted to attend the friends-and-family do on Saturday.
Friday was the little one's birthday. I had planned to take the day off, but she had a party at her play-school. We (actually my wife) decided to have a little dinner for parents in the evening where all of us could get together.
As luck would have it, an interview request I had put in for an IT major came through on Friday evening. Unfortunately, he can only do this time and then he is off for three weeks. Don't worry, we will start at 6.30 pm and wrap up by 7.00 pm. For sure.
Braving the peak-hour traffic between Delhi and Gurgaon (which is one of the Indian home of the big IT majors), we got to the venue on time. He is on an important conference call. Do you want to set up your equipment and he'll join you soon. Soon turned out to be almost an hour late.
The interview jokingly suggested that I make a dart-board with his picture on it. You can tell your daughter that this is the man who delayed your Dad. But his spin-doctor had other ideas. Here is a little something from us. The little something was a USB Storage Device, just the kind of thing you would give a four-year-old.
Thankfully, the little one was still awake when I got in around 8.45 pm. We got to spend some time together and celebrate the occasion.
Saturday was the cousin's birthday party in Gurgaon. It was scheduled for 12.00 pm and we were there 20 or so minutes late. Yet again, we were the first guests to arrive. Most guests started floating in around 1.00-1.30 pm - with one coming around 3.00 pm.
On our way back, I had a unique experience. I was driving on the fastest lane on the NH-8, which connects Gurgaon and Delhi. Suddenly, the red brake lights of the car in front of me flashed. I braked immediately to avoid running into that car.
There were about six or seven cars in front of me, all having braked with a feet or less of each other. Worried that someone had had a bad accident, I inched forward carefully.
It was nothing of the sort. A man had missed one of exits on the 80 km per hour motorway and wanted to reverse 200 hundred yards to get to the exit. You could have killed someone with your stupidity, I told the man. He was totally unperturbed and busy reversing his car.
Sunday was our 'party in the park' for the little one. She wanted a Nemo Cake and Pizzas at her party. Delhi weather has improved in the last few days and it seemed like an idea we could deliver on. After toying with Nehru Park and Lodhi Gardens, we settled on the park in the front of our house.
Notices displayed all over the park warn against gambling, drinking, throwing garbage and ball games but don't say anything about get-together. And it has a lot of benches for people to sit and enjoy the sun on.
To my surprise, the guests started arriving well before the schedule start time of 12.00. After taking them to the corner we had identified for the party, I headed off to pick up the Nemo cake. While I was away, my wife got summoned by an elderly neighbour - Organising parties in the park is not allowed. Ever since some foreigners did it, the environment has been spoiled.
No, the foreigners didn't leave any toxic waste in the park. They had a get-together with friends for a kid's birthday. They left the park in the same condition they found it, didn't talk loudly, didn't organise loud music that blared late into the night and didn't take up parking lots allocated to the residents.
Isn't that what parks are meant for? For use by residents who pay for and care for the park and aren't fond of putting up tents and offer matar-paneer, daal makhani, pulao and naan to celebrate something?
Luckily, my better half took the more sensible route out of this - by playing the we are new to this locality card.
The elderly lady chose not to take the matter any further. It was a lovely sunny day and my better half had organised face-painting, pass the parcel, bubble-makers and a balloon-seller for the party. The first three were a hit but the last one didn't attract too much interest.
The pizzas arrived at 1.30, as did a couple of small bottles of Coke - to mess up our no-fizzy-drinks resolve. The little one soon discovered it, as did some grown-ups. I had to give in and get a big bottle to allow some refills.
Some considerate guests and the eager gardener helped us return the park to its original self within minutes. The remaining guests moved upstairs to our house to continue the party.
I haven't bumped into the elderly lady yet, but am sure stories are going around about the foreigners who are spoiling the environment!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)