I was unable to write this past week, as my brother-in-law was visiting us with his family.
The visit had been long overdue, and - despite the searing heat - we wanted to make the most of it.
There were the usual Delhi attractions - Qutb Minar, Red Fort, India Gate, Shankar's International Dolls Museum, Dilli Haat and Akshardham Temple. There was the customary night-time drive through Lutyen's Delhi........And there was the visit to doctors and hospital.
No, nothing to worry about. My brother-in-law had some swelling in his feet and wanted a general medical check-up done.
Now, Preventive Health Checks are quite popular in this city. Apart from companies that sign up their employees to make sure they don't konk off one fine morning, the average man/woman also get themselves checked reasonably regularly.
There are quite a few diagnostics centres close to our house, but they aren't much use unless you know which tests to get done. So, we opted for general Preventive Health Checks offered by Apollo Hospital or Max Panchsheel.
Both of these conduct tests on all vital organs and are offer reasonably-priced packages. The trouble is they always book more people for the tests than they have capacity for.
I wasn't too pleased with my Preventive Health Check experience at Apollo, three years ago. The place was crawling with well-dressed Customer Service people, with no clue how to manage the tests. I and my parents were rushed from one room to the other.
The only two people reasonably free, back then, were the General Practitioner and the Health & Lifestyle Consultant. Both of them asked the same set of questions - Smoke/Don't Smoke, Drink/Don't Drink, Exercise/Don't Exercise etc etc - before handing over advice on how to lead a healthy life.
Max was untested, had slightly better reputation and is close to our house - so the decision wasn't too difficult. And in this heat, the "centrally air-conditioned facility providing in-house diagnostic service facilities" pitch was quite appealing.
Quite why the in-house diagnostic facilities would need four days to generate a report was beyond me, but the place was worth a try.
When my better half and her brother landed at the MedCentre, they were impressed. A token was quickly handed for "billing purposes". They were signed in and the process was soon underway.
The first few tests went fine and then the confidence started crumbling. After one of the tests, my brother-in-law found himself holding another patient's document. It seemed the doctor had seen the right guy but made observations in the wrong guy's document.
By mid-day, all the tests were done. Please come on Saturday for the report, my brother-in-law was told. Some nudging and strong words from my better half, and they could do the report for Friday.
On Thursday, that commitment ended as Dr Kalra isn't in on Friday. Dr Kalra is the General Practitioner who would have made sense of all those graphs, numbers and strange notations. Please come at 8.30 am on Saturday for your report and consultation with Dr Kalra.
At 6 in the morning on Saturday, they probably sent an SMS to say Dr Kalra won't be in that day either.
Since my brother-in-law was leaving on Sunday, there was no time to wait for Dr Kalra to come into work. Would you like to see a gynaecologist?, asked the Duty Manager helpfully. After a moment of gender-confusion, my brother-in-law refused the offer.
Our local doctor said the report did not explain the swelling in the feet. Why don't you get Thyroid and Colour Doppler Test?
The Thyroid test was quite straight-forward, but the Colour Doppler was fun. It was conducted at a Diagnostics Centre in south Delhi and involved a technician and a doctor.
The technician followed the doctor's instructions as moved the ultrasound sensor on a pregnant woman's tummy. When he was quiet, the technician quickly opened the internet browser and got about finishing her profile on jeevansathi.com - a matrimonial website.
The pregnant woman may have wanted to focus on her baby, but the technician had other things on her mind.
Thankfully, the details of the Colour Doppler and the matrimonial question didn't mix up. After an eventful day - in which my brother-in-law was offered an appointment with the gynaecologist - he was still Male, 35 and with swelling in his feet.
31 May 2010
21 May 2010
Papa ji's statement of account
Papa ji wanted to speak with you, the landlady said I walked in to hand over the monthly rent.
It was almost 10 in the night and I wasn't expecting the old man to be awake at this hour.
He wakes up early to run the local shakha of Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh. With a flag-pole in one hand and a milk-container in the other, I have seen Papa ji go to the local park every morning. There, he is joined by other old men in khaki shorts and white shirts. They do light exercises before the old man goes to the local dairy to pick up milk.
Papa ji was saying his prayers in a shoe-cupboard-turned-temple, just by the dining table. I have prepared a statement of account, he said pointing towards the table. Please have a look.
The file reflect a lifetime spent creating and pushing files in a government department. On one side was stapled an A4 sheet detailing expenditure related to our floor, with a summary of Advance Paid, Expenditure, Money Owed and a request for Further Advance. On the other side, were bills to illustrate the statement of account.
The last line of the statement caught my attention. Almost three grand for maintenance and refilling of gas for the air-conditioners.
That work had happened earlier in the evening. When I returned home, two guys were busy washing the air-conditioners in the house. The bathroom was covered in black soot and they were asking for more water. Looks like these air-conditioners haven't been serviced for a while, one of them said. The AC in living room was was nearly out of gas and the ones in the bedrooms are so dirty.
We had suspected a problem with the living room AC. Even hours after being switched on, it would hardly cool the room.
Purely by chance, the landlady called in some guys to service her air-conditioners this week. The ACs haven't been cooling the room so we are getting them serviced, she told my better-half. On being asked if the upstairs ACs could be looked at too, the landlady reluctantly agreed.
Now the old man wanted me to pick up the tab for that. And for the electrician's effort at mending a fan that wasn't working and had sparked off following his intervention. And for the door-bell that sparked off with the malfunctioning fan. And for the new fan that replaced the old one.
Can you please explain why should I pay for the servicing of air-conditioners? Because it has run out of gas due to your use. You must be joking. An AC doesn't run out of gas after just 20-odd days of use. Since you are using the AC, you must pay for any work on it. Sorry, I am only responsible for running costs like water, gas and electricity and for mending things which malfunction because of our misuse. Then, you must talk to Krishan.
Krishan? Who the hell was Krishan? And why should I talk to him? But before I could blurt these questions out, I realised it must be Mr Raina - the pudgy son of Papa ji. The landlady always refers to him as "Mr Raina, who works out of Jammu & Kashmir".
In my eight months in this house, I have rarely interacted with Mr Raina (Krishan). Whenever he is in town, he keeps to the house - watching religious programmes on TV channels or listening to religious songs.
He may be employed with the Indian government, as his name doesn't appear on any of the leases we have signed. The rent goes in the name of Papa ji, the landlady and her college-going son. I reckon none of them have any income apart from the rent, and are extremely unlikely to be paying tax.
But back to the statement of account. As I have mentioned in earlier posts, Papa ji is a hard of hearing - more so, when questioned about his financial demands.
Take the file with you as I have the photocopies, he said. When Krishan comes, you can discuss the payments with him.
It seemed sensible as I didn't wanted to spend the night talking to an almost-deaf man.
On returning upstairs, I noticed other gems in the statement. We are supposed to pick up the water costs of the entire property, and contribute towards the costs of plumber who comes in primarily to do the landlord's work!!
It was almost 10 in the night and I wasn't expecting the old man to be awake at this hour.
He wakes up early to run the local shakha of Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh. With a flag-pole in one hand and a milk-container in the other, I have seen Papa ji go to the local park every morning. There, he is joined by other old men in khaki shorts and white shirts. They do light exercises before the old man goes to the local dairy to pick up milk.
Papa ji was saying his prayers in a shoe-cupboard-turned-temple, just by the dining table. I have prepared a statement of account, he said pointing towards the table. Please have a look.
The file reflect a lifetime spent creating and pushing files in a government department. On one side was stapled an A4 sheet detailing expenditure related to our floor, with a summary of Advance Paid, Expenditure, Money Owed and a request for Further Advance. On the other side, were bills to illustrate the statement of account.
The last line of the statement caught my attention. Almost three grand for maintenance and refilling of gas for the air-conditioners.
That work had happened earlier in the evening. When I returned home, two guys were busy washing the air-conditioners in the house. The bathroom was covered in black soot and they were asking for more water. Looks like these air-conditioners haven't been serviced for a while, one of them said. The AC in living room was was nearly out of gas and the ones in the bedrooms are so dirty.
We had suspected a problem with the living room AC. Even hours after being switched on, it would hardly cool the room.
Purely by chance, the landlady called in some guys to service her air-conditioners this week. The ACs haven't been cooling the room so we are getting them serviced, she told my better-half. On being asked if the upstairs ACs could be looked at too, the landlady reluctantly agreed.
Now the old man wanted me to pick up the tab for that. And for the electrician's effort at mending a fan that wasn't working and had sparked off following his intervention. And for the door-bell that sparked off with the malfunctioning fan. And for the new fan that replaced the old one.
Can you please explain why should I pay for the servicing of air-conditioners? Because it has run out of gas due to your use. You must be joking. An AC doesn't run out of gas after just 20-odd days of use. Since you are using the AC, you must pay for any work on it. Sorry, I am only responsible for running costs like water, gas and electricity and for mending things which malfunction because of our misuse. Then, you must talk to Krishan.
Krishan? Who the hell was Krishan? And why should I talk to him? But before I could blurt these questions out, I realised it must be Mr Raina - the pudgy son of Papa ji. The landlady always refers to him as "Mr Raina, who works out of Jammu & Kashmir".
In my eight months in this house, I have rarely interacted with Mr Raina (Krishan). Whenever he is in town, he keeps to the house - watching religious programmes on TV channels or listening to religious songs.
He may be employed with the Indian government, as his name doesn't appear on any of the leases we have signed. The rent goes in the name of Papa ji, the landlady and her college-going son. I reckon none of them have any income apart from the rent, and are extremely unlikely to be paying tax.
But back to the statement of account. As I have mentioned in earlier posts, Papa ji is a hard of hearing - more so, when questioned about his financial demands.
Take the file with you as I have the photocopies, he said. When Krishan comes, you can discuss the payments with him.
It seemed sensible as I didn't wanted to spend the night talking to an almost-deaf man.
On returning upstairs, I noticed other gems in the statement. We are supposed to pick up the water costs of the entire property, and contribute towards the costs of plumber who comes in primarily to do the landlord's work!!
19 May 2010
That was quite rude, Mister!
I was told off by my better-half over the weekend. That was quite rude.
The remark related to my phone conversation with an old friend. I had called her up on Friday evening to ask if she would like to come over for lunch. She was at a work party and promised to get back to me later in the evening.
Prior to this, I had spoken with her husband - also a good friend - who said it was fine with him, but that he would need to consult with the wife. Don't worry, I will call her myself to check, I said.
The lunch was over by the time she called up late afternoon on Saturday. My guests were still around, so I didn't pick up the phone. A part of me was also miffed.
On Sunday, my better-half's phone rang. It was my friend and she wanted to speak to me. You didn't pick up your phone on Saturday? Well, the lunch was over and I was with my guests. Yes, but you could have picked up the phone and told me you'll call later. I could have, but understood it to be a routine chat which could wait. But you didn't call me. You called me up before I could. Yes, but it is nearly a day after my call. I know, but your call also came a day after it was promised.
My friend said that I had become "combative" of late, and my better half seemed to agree. That was quite rude of you. You shouldn't have said some of the things you did.
No excuses, but the anger seem to emanate from yet another effort gone waste. This was my third or fourth attempt at inviting our friend over, and like all previous attempts this one ended in disappointment too.
Life seems to be very hectic in Delhi. The weeks go by in a flash and planning the weekend is difficult. Give people too much notice and they will commit and forget. Give them reasonable notice and they will commit and have other commitments too. Give them short notice and they will take forever to refuse or confirm the invite.
Let's get together seems to be an oft-heard resolve. But the resolve to get together seems battered by distances, traffic chaos and - in summer months - extremely warm days.
Quite different from how weekends in UK were. There was always a plan and we knew the when, where, how and for how long at least a week in advance. Spontaneous get-together happened too as we had a reasonably good idea of our spare time.
My friend did mention that she may need to go somewhere, but it would have been helpful to hear either YES or NO. In the absence of either, we were left wondering if they were on or not.
Which is what probably blew my fuse. Should have exercised restraint, but the heat eventually gets to you.
The remark related to my phone conversation with an old friend. I had called her up on Friday evening to ask if she would like to come over for lunch. She was at a work party and promised to get back to me later in the evening.
Prior to this, I had spoken with her husband - also a good friend - who said it was fine with him, but that he would need to consult with the wife. Don't worry, I will call her myself to check, I said.
The lunch was over by the time she called up late afternoon on Saturday. My guests were still around, so I didn't pick up the phone. A part of me was also miffed.
On Sunday, my better-half's phone rang. It was my friend and she wanted to speak to me. You didn't pick up your phone on Saturday? Well, the lunch was over and I was with my guests. Yes, but you could have picked up the phone and told me you'll call later. I could have, but understood it to be a routine chat which could wait. But you didn't call me. You called me up before I could. Yes, but it is nearly a day after my call. I know, but your call also came a day after it was promised.
My friend said that I had become "combative" of late, and my better half seemed to agree. That was quite rude of you. You shouldn't have said some of the things you did.
No excuses, but the anger seem to emanate from yet another effort gone waste. This was my third or fourth attempt at inviting our friend over, and like all previous attempts this one ended in disappointment too.
Life seems to be very hectic in Delhi. The weeks go by in a flash and planning the weekend is difficult. Give people too much notice and they will commit and forget. Give them reasonable notice and they will commit and have other commitments too. Give them short notice and they will take forever to refuse or confirm the invite.
Let's get together seems to be an oft-heard resolve. But the resolve to get together seems battered by distances, traffic chaos and - in summer months - extremely warm days.
Quite different from how weekends in UK were. There was always a plan and we knew the when, where, how and for how long at least a week in advance. Spontaneous get-together happened too as we had a reasonably good idea of our spare time.
My friend did mention that she may need to go somewhere, but it would have been helpful to hear either YES or NO. In the absence of either, we were left wondering if they were on or not.
Which is what probably blew my fuse. Should have exercised restraint, but the heat eventually gets to you.
13 May 2010
Bye Bye TV, Welcome Music
We have been thinking a long time about buying a music system.
Our last music system died before we packed up from Hounslow to move to Reading, three years ago. Since then, the DVD Player/PC doubled up as music players while we decided which music system to buy.
Bose had always been a clear favourite. We visited its various showrooms in London, Oxford and Delhi to look at the models available. The trend is digital, so it was always the iPod dock that appealed to us. But the Bose guys would always create a doubt with their sound and theatre systems.
We had almost made up our mind to go in for an iPod dock when the India thing happened. So, we decided to pick one up when we got to Delhi. Seven months on, we were still researching - wondering what happens when/if we return to the UK? Surely, 50,000 INR is a sizable expense considering we would have to buy an iPod as well.
What made our decision easier was the television in India. At best, it is vaguely interesting. At worst, it is idiotic. Despite the hundreds of news channels, there is hardly anything worth watching as they are either itching for a war with Pakistan or China or are busy pushing a news agenda that is more about crime, sports, films and godmen than about anything of substance.
Of course, the little one is glued to kids' channel, Pogo - with its local superhits like Chhota Bheem and New Adventures of Hanuman and international superhits like Tom & Jerry, Pink Panther and Animated Mr Bean. Summer months have meant that she had been watching more TV than she used to. And watching more TV means watching more commercials - Coke, Maggi, Cadburys, McDonalds, KFC etc etc.
On Friday, I went and picked up a Sony Micro Hi-Fi. It is very much like our old music system and is just the right size for our lounge/dining area. It plays CD, cassettes (you never know when you need it) and even music from a USB device
Life has been very different since then. The little one keeps listening to her perennial favourites - Rock On, Delhi 6, Ishqiya and 3 Idiots - while I and my better half are rediscovering western music. The best of Snow Patrol, Madonna, Michael Jackson, Rod Stewart, Robbie Williams and the recent albums of Alicia Keys, Amy Winehouse and Lady Gaga are occupying about 1.2GB on the 4GB USB device at the moment.
The TV hasn't been switched on all of this week. The little one did use it to watch Pogo over the weekend, but it is nice to hear her say "Can you play my music, Dad" as against "Can you switch the TV on, Dad" that she used to say before.
That reminds me. I still need to get her the soundtrack of the film, Kites.
Our last music system died before we packed up from Hounslow to move to Reading, three years ago. Since then, the DVD Player/PC doubled up as music players while we decided which music system to buy.
Bose had always been a clear favourite. We visited its various showrooms in London, Oxford and Delhi to look at the models available. The trend is digital, so it was always the iPod dock that appealed to us. But the Bose guys would always create a doubt with their sound and theatre systems.
We had almost made up our mind to go in for an iPod dock when the India thing happened. So, we decided to pick one up when we got to Delhi. Seven months on, we were still researching - wondering what happens when/if we return to the UK? Surely, 50,000 INR is a sizable expense considering we would have to buy an iPod as well.
What made our decision easier was the television in India. At best, it is vaguely interesting. At worst, it is idiotic. Despite the hundreds of news channels, there is hardly anything worth watching as they are either itching for a war with Pakistan or China or are busy pushing a news agenda that is more about crime, sports, films and godmen than about anything of substance.
Of course, the little one is glued to kids' channel, Pogo - with its local superhits like Chhota Bheem and New Adventures of Hanuman and international superhits like Tom & Jerry, Pink Panther and Animated Mr Bean. Summer months have meant that she had been watching more TV than she used to. And watching more TV means watching more commercials - Coke, Maggi, Cadburys, McDonalds, KFC etc etc.
On Friday, I went and picked up a Sony Micro Hi-Fi. It is very much like our old music system and is just the right size for our lounge/dining area. It plays CD, cassettes (you never know when you need it) and even music from a USB device
Life has been very different since then. The little one keeps listening to her perennial favourites - Rock On, Delhi 6, Ishqiya and 3 Idiots - while I and my better half are rediscovering western music. The best of Snow Patrol, Madonna, Michael Jackson, Rod Stewart, Robbie Williams and the recent albums of Alicia Keys, Amy Winehouse and Lady Gaga are occupying about 1.2GB on the 4GB USB device at the moment.
The TV hasn't been switched on all of this week. The little one did use it to watch Pogo over the weekend, but it is nice to hear her say "Can you play my music, Dad" as against "Can you switch the TV on, Dad" that she used to say before.
That reminds me. I still need to get her the soundtrack of the film, Kites.
12 May 2010
A birthday party
It was my better half's birthday over the weekend.
Had been planning for quite a while for a surprise birthday party. Before you ask, NO, she hasn't reached a milestone age. It was just an effort to mark the day a bit differently.
After years of entering the day with just a Birthday Card in hand and no concrete plan, it was time to make amends. A leisurely afternoon in the company of close friends seemed like a good idea, so I set about planning one.
Delhi has many north Indian restaurants selling Chinese cuisine, and many Chinese restaurants selling north Indian cuisine. In fact, those are the main cuisines you will find wherever you go - around the country, in your city, in your neighbourhood and in people's home. You can't miss that Gobhi Manchurian and Chilli Paneer sit comfortably with Mutter Paneer and Chicken Curry on offer.
A quick search on the internet brought up restaurants in south Delhi offering other international cuisines - Japanese, Russian, Italian, Mediterranean and even Korean. The menus of Japanese and Korean restaurants looked frighteningly like that of a Chinese restaurant. Unless one was willing to shell out the dollars for an authentic experience in one of the five-star hotels. The Russian cuisine didn't look too appetising and the Italian lacked imagination.
So, it was Mediterranean cuisine that I settled on. Shalom had a nice website and declared proudly that it had won the Best Lebanese Restaurant in Delhi award for four years running. The photographs indicated an informal decor and the menu was interesting. Though the prices were on the high side, it was the most important day in the life of one of the most important people in my life.
Further searches revealed positive experience of those who had visited the restaurant. Friends too had good things to say about Shalom. It may be sensible to book a table as it is a popular restaurant.
I followed the advice and booked a table for 10. Friends had confirmed they would reach the restaurant by 12.30 and one even volunteered to pick up the birthday cake on her way in.
Call it my fear or the fear of getting bugged by me, they did actually start early from their homes. By the time we reached Shalom, it was almost 1 pm. The little one accompanied us too, and was quite excited about the party.
The place did have an informal feel too it. Our friends had occupied a nice little corner, with thick mattresses for seating and colourful cushions to support the back. Low-lying tables provided space to put glasses and plate.
The thing about Delhi that I had forgotten in the past decade is that the day starts late and ends late. So, quite a few had skipped breakfast to reach the venue in time. We ordered some beers and starters immediately.
The Veg Mezze Platter had nice and warm Falafel, Spinach Stick, Cheese Samosas and Pitta Bread, but the Babaganoush, Hummus and Tabbouleh were slightly thickset. The Shish Kebabs were better and sat on a combination of spicy pastes. Shalom definitely isn't the Sofra's of Covent Garden, but it is most definitely different.
For main course, a combination of Vegetable Moussaka, Grilled Fish With Orange Chilli Sauce, Chicken With Paprika and Morrocan Lamb Stew With Wild Rice. Paprika Chicken was the best dish of the lot, with some nice grilled vegetables with it.
The one big disappointment was the Service at the restaurant. It seemed to have borrowed the informality of the place. As we ordered beers and food, the tiny tables became clogged - but the staff wouldn't clear them unless asked specifically to do so.
When it was time for the cake, the staff brought the box out, took out the cake from it, opened the box of candles and started putting the candles one by one. All in the full view of my better half. No effort at even pretending to surprise the birthday girl.
Before the cake could reach our table, the little one had extinguished all the candles and was ready to slice the cake. Dad. On your birthday, we will get a different cake. Right?
Some friends had other commitments, so they excused themselves. By about 2.15 or so, everyone had left and the lunch was over. There was no point sitting by ourselves, so I asked for the bill.
Conscious that the birthday party had ended before it started, we hatched another plan. After putting the little one to sleep in the evening, we went off to Greater Kailash-2 in south Delhi. A friend suggested had Chungwa, an old and established Chinese Restaurant. They offer booze at reasonable prices and since you have already had dinner, it is a much better option.
Pakistan were playing New Zealand in T20 Cricket Match and all the tables around the bar were occupied. Well-fed Punjabi uncles, aunties and enjoying Chinese food and the cricket match. There was still some time to go before the match would end, and they were in no hurry to leave.
So, we ordered a couple of Mojitos and parked ourselves a cosy little table. Soon we were joined by some of our other friends.
We stayed at Chungwa until well past midnight and even managed to work our way through Chilli Chicken Dry. Needless to add, the dish was well prepared and was delicious.
I guess it is always a better idea to stick to north Indian and Chinese cuisine when in Delhi.
Had been planning for quite a while for a surprise birthday party. Before you ask, NO, she hasn't reached a milestone age. It was just an effort to mark the day a bit differently.
After years of entering the day with just a Birthday Card in hand and no concrete plan, it was time to make amends. A leisurely afternoon in the company of close friends seemed like a good idea, so I set about planning one.
Delhi has many north Indian restaurants selling Chinese cuisine, and many Chinese restaurants selling north Indian cuisine. In fact, those are the main cuisines you will find wherever you go - around the country, in your city, in your neighbourhood and in people's home. You can't miss that Gobhi Manchurian and Chilli Paneer sit comfortably with Mutter Paneer and Chicken Curry on offer.
A quick search on the internet brought up restaurants in south Delhi offering other international cuisines - Japanese, Russian, Italian, Mediterranean and even Korean. The menus of Japanese and Korean restaurants looked frighteningly like that of a Chinese restaurant. Unless one was willing to shell out the dollars for an authentic experience in one of the five-star hotels. The Russian cuisine didn't look too appetising and the Italian lacked imagination.
So, it was Mediterranean cuisine that I settled on. Shalom had a nice website and declared proudly that it had won the Best Lebanese Restaurant in Delhi award for four years running. The photographs indicated an informal decor and the menu was interesting. Though the prices were on the high side, it was the most important day in the life of one of the most important people in my life.
Further searches revealed positive experience of those who had visited the restaurant. Friends too had good things to say about Shalom. It may be sensible to book a table as it is a popular restaurant.
I followed the advice and booked a table for 10. Friends had confirmed they would reach the restaurant by 12.30 and one even volunteered to pick up the birthday cake on her way in.
Call it my fear or the fear of getting bugged by me, they did actually start early from their homes. By the time we reached Shalom, it was almost 1 pm. The little one accompanied us too, and was quite excited about the party.
The place did have an informal feel too it. Our friends had occupied a nice little corner, with thick mattresses for seating and colourful cushions to support the back. Low-lying tables provided space to put glasses and plate.
The thing about Delhi that I had forgotten in the past decade is that the day starts late and ends late. So, quite a few had skipped breakfast to reach the venue in time. We ordered some beers and starters immediately.
The Veg Mezze Platter had nice and warm Falafel, Spinach Stick, Cheese Samosas and Pitta Bread, but the Babaganoush, Hummus and Tabbouleh were slightly thickset. The Shish Kebabs were better and sat on a combination of spicy pastes. Shalom definitely isn't the Sofra's of Covent Garden, but it is most definitely different.
For main course, a combination of Vegetable Moussaka, Grilled Fish With Orange Chilli Sauce, Chicken With Paprika and Morrocan Lamb Stew With Wild Rice. Paprika Chicken was the best dish of the lot, with some nice grilled vegetables with it.
The one big disappointment was the Service at the restaurant. It seemed to have borrowed the informality of the place. As we ordered beers and food, the tiny tables became clogged - but the staff wouldn't clear them unless asked specifically to do so.
When it was time for the cake, the staff brought the box out, took out the cake from it, opened the box of candles and started putting the candles one by one. All in the full view of my better half. No effort at even pretending to surprise the birthday girl.
Before the cake could reach our table, the little one had extinguished all the candles and was ready to slice the cake. Dad. On your birthday, we will get a different cake. Right?
Some friends had other commitments, so they excused themselves. By about 2.15 or so, everyone had left and the lunch was over. There was no point sitting by ourselves, so I asked for the bill.
Conscious that the birthday party had ended before it started, we hatched another plan. After putting the little one to sleep in the evening, we went off to Greater Kailash-2 in south Delhi. A friend suggested had Chungwa, an old and established Chinese Restaurant. They offer booze at reasonable prices and since you have already had dinner, it is a much better option.
Pakistan were playing New Zealand in T20 Cricket Match and all the tables around the bar were occupied. Well-fed Punjabi uncles, aunties and enjoying Chinese food and the cricket match. There was still some time to go before the match would end, and they were in no hurry to leave.
So, we ordered a couple of Mojitos and parked ourselves a cosy little table. Soon we were joined by some of our other friends.
We stayed at Chungwa until well past midnight and even managed to work our way through Chilli Chicken Dry. Needless to add, the dish was well prepared and was delicious.
I guess it is always a better idea to stick to north Indian and Chinese cuisine when in Delhi.
6 May 2010
Missing my Nokia E71
I have been missing my Nokia E71. It allowed me to illustrate my blog with pictures or just to capture those unmissable moments of my little girl's growing years.
For six months, it had been a loyal and able gadget. It allowed me to make calls and send SMSes, take pictures and videos, keep notes and reminders and then go off to sleep around 9.00 or so in the night. At 7.30 or so next morning, it would wake up again.
I suspect it was hearing my conversations with friends. I couldn't get through to you last night? The phone was switched off. Why do you do that? Why do you keep your phone on all the time? What if someone is trying to reach you? People from work can wait until the next morning. What about friends or relatives? They are aware that I have a landline and can reach me anytime on that number.
A week ago, the Nokia E71 it fell out of my hands. When I picked it up, it seemed like a different phone. It would refuse to go to sleep. Whenever the red button on the top was pushed, it would reboot itself. It would take a quick nap when I pulled the battery out. Then it would wake up with a start when the battery went back in.
Serves you right, my closest friend remarked. Now you can't switch the phone off. I panicked like someone would if their phone died suddenly. There is no way it can be switched on always. There is no way I can allow people to intrude on my family time.
It would only take a day or two to set the problem right, said my office IT guy. That seemed like no time at all. Surely I could survive that time without my contact numbers and reminders and notes and camera and sound recorder and.........
It has been a week since and there is no sign of the phone coming back to me.
It would have been wonderful to have it handy on Wednesday evening. The little one wanted to have "pizza" for dinner and made us visit the Pizza Hut in Vasant Vihar. The place looks like any other Pizza Hut around the world, but has its own local touch.
The sour-cream that comes with the Potato Wedges is so diluted that it could technically qualify as sour-sauce. The mustard is neither British nor French. Heck, it isn't even a concoction of the two. The Potato Wedges barely cover the bottom of the bowl it comes in and the Pepperoni Pizza is more like "Cheese Pizza with Sprinkled Pepperoni"!!
But these aren't things that bother the little one. She was just excited being out. Kicking off her Crocs, she perched herself on the cushioned chair. Given the low level of the chairs, this gave her the flexibility to stand up to reach her drink and pizza.
She surveyed the area around her, had a good look at the menu and then set about describing how her day went. She was in a talkative mood and I would have loved to capture some of that on the camera.
I want see a picture now, she said after the meal. Her Mum said the hall wasn't screening a kids' movie, but a grown up one. Don't worry. I can see a grown-up movie tonight. So, what about school tomorrow. Oh, I will see the film and then sleep. Tomorrow I will wake up and go to school.
I so wish the E71 was back with me. It has videos from our Kerala trip, her birthday, when she was locked in a park and her pretending to read a colouring book. Each video shows how much she has grown in our time here. Each video is a reminder how quickly the time is passing.
For six months, it had been a loyal and able gadget. It allowed me to make calls and send SMSes, take pictures and videos, keep notes and reminders and then go off to sleep around 9.00 or so in the night. At 7.30 or so next morning, it would wake up again.
I suspect it was hearing my conversations with friends. I couldn't get through to you last night? The phone was switched off. Why do you do that? Why do you keep your phone on all the time? What if someone is trying to reach you? People from work can wait until the next morning. What about friends or relatives? They are aware that I have a landline and can reach me anytime on that number.
A week ago, the Nokia E71 it fell out of my hands. When I picked it up, it seemed like a different phone. It would refuse to go to sleep. Whenever the red button on the top was pushed, it would reboot itself. It would take a quick nap when I pulled the battery out. Then it would wake up with a start when the battery went back in.
Serves you right, my closest friend remarked. Now you can't switch the phone off. I panicked like someone would if their phone died suddenly. There is no way it can be switched on always. There is no way I can allow people to intrude on my family time.
It would only take a day or two to set the problem right, said my office IT guy. That seemed like no time at all. Surely I could survive that time without my contact numbers and reminders and notes and camera and sound recorder and.........
It has been a week since and there is no sign of the phone coming back to me.
It would have been wonderful to have it handy on Wednesday evening. The little one wanted to have "pizza" for dinner and made us visit the Pizza Hut in Vasant Vihar. The place looks like any other Pizza Hut around the world, but has its own local touch.
The sour-cream that comes with the Potato Wedges is so diluted that it could technically qualify as sour-sauce. The mustard is neither British nor French. Heck, it isn't even a concoction of the two. The Potato Wedges barely cover the bottom of the bowl it comes in and the Pepperoni Pizza is more like "Cheese Pizza with Sprinkled Pepperoni"!!
But these aren't things that bother the little one. She was just excited being out. Kicking off her Crocs, she perched herself on the cushioned chair. Given the low level of the chairs, this gave her the flexibility to stand up to reach her drink and pizza.
She surveyed the area around her, had a good look at the menu and then set about describing how her day went. She was in a talkative mood and I would have loved to capture some of that on the camera.
I want see a picture now, she said after the meal. Her Mum said the hall wasn't screening a kids' movie, but a grown up one. Don't worry. I can see a grown-up movie tonight. So, what about school tomorrow. Oh, I will see the film and then sleep. Tomorrow I will wake up and go to school.
I so wish the E71 was back with me. It has videos from our Kerala trip, her birthday, when she was locked in a park and her pretending to read a colouring book. Each video shows how much she has grown in our time here. Each video is a reminder how quickly the time is passing.
5 May 2010
With friends like these
Had just walked into my house the other day when I heard a little girl crying.
At first, it sound like my own. But when I walked into the room, it was one of the girls of the local ironing lady.
Komal is what her name means, delicate. She is stick-thin with a pale skin, unkempt hair, sad eyes but a lovely smile. Komal and her older sister, Sunaina, have been my little girl's friends since we moved into this accommodation.
At first, a big attraction for the girls was chocolates or sweets or fruits. But over days and weeks, they started enjoyed playing with each other.
Sunaina is street-smart and goes to school. Komal spends the day either in the small shack, that her Mum operates out of, or in the park behind it. She is joined by her sister in the park when she returns from school.
On this evening, the two sisters were playing in the park with my little one. As it started getting darker, both sets of Mums asked the girls to come back home. In her rush to come back quickly, Komal tripped on a boy's legs - who, in turn, fell over her.
Her shoulder turned around in an instant and she started wailing. My better half rushed Komal to her Mum, who was busy wrapping up for the day. She looked to her grandma, who said: "Go away. You keep injuring yourself every few days".
The girl was probably just looking for a cuddle. Or a show of concern. But neither Mum nor Grandmum had time for her. You need to take her to a doctor, my better half said. Neither said a word. Where is her Dad? He is still stuck at work and can't come anytime soon.
Do you want to come upstairs? my better half asked. Komal didn't say a word or stop crying, but held her hands and walked up.
She was still in a lot of discomfort. It's hurting quite a bit. It is hurting quite a bit. I don't want the doctor to give me an injection. I don't want the doctor to give me an injection.
To distract her from the pain, my better half asked if Komal wanted milk. Yes. Did she want a toast or biscuit? Biscuit. She was quite obviously hungry and finished off her snack very quickly. Every now and then, she would cry out - It's hurting quite a bit. I don't want the doctor to give me injection.
Sunaina didn't know what to do. You know? When someone moves her hand, it hurts her. She is not careful. She gets hurt very often.
It was a bit sad to see little Komal lying in someone else's house with an injury. Her family works really hard to earn a living. Dad is a driver, but helps out with the ironing when he is not busy. But the little girls spend their time without any adult supervision.
Despite two lovely daughters, Komal's Mum is pregnant with her third child. I so wish it is a boy this time around, Komal's Grandma keeps saying. When asked if Komal could be provided medication, Grandma shot back: What is the point in buying medicines? She will waste our money and hurt herself again. Even her Mum said she wanted Vitamins and hasn't had even one tablet until now.
Once Dad returned from work, he took Komal and Sunaina with him.
The next day I saw Komal, she was quiet and sad. She didn't say a word when I asked how she felt. It was Grandma again: We took her to a wrestler who knows how to adjust bones. He had pulled the shoulder back in the socket and put on a bandage. He feels there might be a fracture in the collar bone but that it might heal.
For days that followed, she kept sitting quietly on one of the benches her Mum uses to keep ironed clothed. Any attempt to talk to her or find out how she was feeling went unresponded.
Until Tuesday evening, that is. Uncle, can we come up to play? she asked me as I returned home.
It was nice to see her smiling again - even though it was a feeble and weak smile.
At first, it sound like my own. But when I walked into the room, it was one of the girls of the local ironing lady.
Komal is what her name means, delicate. She is stick-thin with a pale skin, unkempt hair, sad eyes but a lovely smile. Komal and her older sister, Sunaina, have been my little girl's friends since we moved into this accommodation.
At first, a big attraction for the girls was chocolates or sweets or fruits. But over days and weeks, they started enjoyed playing with each other.
Sunaina is street-smart and goes to school. Komal spends the day either in the small shack, that her Mum operates out of, or in the park behind it. She is joined by her sister in the park when she returns from school.
On this evening, the two sisters were playing in the park with my little one. As it started getting darker, both sets of Mums asked the girls to come back home. In her rush to come back quickly, Komal tripped on a boy's legs - who, in turn, fell over her.
Her shoulder turned around in an instant and she started wailing. My better half rushed Komal to her Mum, who was busy wrapping up for the day. She looked to her grandma, who said: "Go away. You keep injuring yourself every few days".
The girl was probably just looking for a cuddle. Or a show of concern. But neither Mum nor Grandmum had time for her. You need to take her to a doctor, my better half said. Neither said a word. Where is her Dad? He is still stuck at work and can't come anytime soon.
Do you want to come upstairs? my better half asked. Komal didn't say a word or stop crying, but held her hands and walked up.
She was still in a lot of discomfort. It's hurting quite a bit. It is hurting quite a bit. I don't want the doctor to give me an injection. I don't want the doctor to give me an injection.
To distract her from the pain, my better half asked if Komal wanted milk. Yes. Did she want a toast or biscuit? Biscuit. She was quite obviously hungry and finished off her snack very quickly. Every now and then, she would cry out - It's hurting quite a bit. I don't want the doctor to give me injection.
Sunaina didn't know what to do. You know? When someone moves her hand, it hurts her. She is not careful. She gets hurt very often.
It was a bit sad to see little Komal lying in someone else's house with an injury. Her family works really hard to earn a living. Dad is a driver, but helps out with the ironing when he is not busy. But the little girls spend their time without any adult supervision.
Despite two lovely daughters, Komal's Mum is pregnant with her third child. I so wish it is a boy this time around, Komal's Grandma keeps saying. When asked if Komal could be provided medication, Grandma shot back: What is the point in buying medicines? She will waste our money and hurt herself again. Even her Mum said she wanted Vitamins and hasn't had even one tablet until now.
Once Dad returned from work, he took Komal and Sunaina with him.
The next day I saw Komal, she was quiet and sad. She didn't say a word when I asked how she felt. It was Grandma again: We took her to a wrestler who knows how to adjust bones. He had pulled the shoulder back in the socket and put on a bandage. He feels there might be a fracture in the collar bone but that it might heal.
For days that followed, she kept sitting quietly on one of the benches her Mum uses to keep ironed clothed. Any attempt to talk to her or find out how she was feeling went unresponded.
Until Tuesday evening, that is. Uncle, can we come up to play? she asked me as I returned home.
It was nice to see her smiling again - even though it was a feeble and weak smile.
Settling into the Delhi NCR groove
Looks like we are slowly settling into the Delhi (or Delhi NCR) groove.
On Saturday, six of us from college had planned to meet up along with wives and kids. The day started out fine, but thunderstorms in the evening - followed by rain and drizzle in some parts - resulted in the last-minute cancellation of the plan.
So, what is your plan for the evening? a friend called to ask. I told him my only plan had just been cancelled and the evening didn't look too promising. Why don't you come over to Noida? I am going to RP's. I asked if RP knew that we would be coming. Don't worry, I call him up just now. This was nearly six in the evening.
RP is an old and common friend of ours and we have spent many evenings at his house. He used to be a journalist; then got interested in politics; then developed an interest in psephology; then caught the travel bug and visited different parts of India; then tried his hands at journalism again before shacking up with a political party's strategy unit.
He told me and the other friends - at this impromptu dinner - many interesting stories. Like this bunch of Tibetans who have been settled on a a plateau in Chattisgarh which is miles away from anywhere. Or this tribe that lives in the middle of the Gir Lion Sanctuary and is credited by some as playing an important role in the survival of the big beast there.
The stories were as fascinating as the ones I got to hear from my better half recently. She had gone to the border of Andhra Pradesh-Chhattisgarh on a mentoring project. The place is affected by the Maoist insurgency and she got to experience the "other India" from really up close - an India messed about with by those who govern and by those who claim to fight for the people.
Unfortunately, India media doesn't have much time for such stories. Neither the advertisers nor the marketers are interested. If TV News=TRP, News Programme Schedule = Sleaze, Sex, Crime. It is difficult to imagine the plight of those working in 50-plus degrees of temperature from the cool confines of 20-plus degrees TV studio. But then again, India is never in short supply of tantalising stories - Sania-Shoaib Wedding, Trouble At The Indian Premier League and now the Honour Killing Of A Young Journalist.
Anyway, that is a bit of digression. RP's house is undergoing renovation, but he made space wherever possible. The kids took over the only functional bedroom with TV. Some of us took over the functional part of the living. Some went over to the balcony and the rest to the functional part of the roof.
It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening and we left RP's house nearly half past midnight.
Sunday brought another unplanned do. This time, my friend invited us to his house. He is my closest friend and we speak almost every day. We have met quite frequently but, in my seven months in Delhi, I haven't been to his house once. This would have never happened on my annual visit.
So, what are you up to today? he asked me. On hearing something that sounded like nothing much, he invited us over. I will call NR as well. He has a young girl and your little one can play with her.
The little one was excited by another day in the company of a kid. Because of her poor health, most of her last week was spent at home. And that does get really boring after a while.
Unfortunately, the friend could not make it till later in the day. So, the little one had to spend a couple of hours playing Bubble Breaker on my phone or watching kids' television.
As for us, we spoke on a range of things - including including domestic help. We would have four or five people working for us, my friend said. One maid does the cooking and cleaning. One maid dusts and mops up the house. Another maid comes to do the laundry and a guy comes to collect the clothes for ironing. Then there are handymen who I pay something extra to come in at short notice and do a good job.
The multiplicity of domestic help is obvious elsewhere in Delhi too. At any social function or on a trip to a park or a mall, families are always accompanied by maid/maids. At the school one morning, one of the Mums was asking another Mum: Why have you got two maids with you? The Mum replied: Oh, they will come on alternate days to pick up my kid. So, I need them to know the drill."
As more and more people join the workforce in India, time has become scarce and money comes in abundance. Apart from the usual housing and transportation costs, there is still enough left to engage individuals who could take the everyday pressures of life off you.
NR arrived with his wife later in the afternoon. Sorry, I couldn't get my daughter along as she was sleeping. The little one was crestfallen. You lied to me again. It was back to Bubble Breaker and kids TV for her as we got busy talking. Finding kids to play with is a much bigger problem in Delhi than it ever was in London/Reading.
Thankfully, the friend's daughter woke up reasonably quickly and was carted in. She is here, she is here - the little one chirped. There was finally someone to play with her. Helped by the grown-ups, the two girls played hide-and-seek for a little while.
The next day was Monday and we had planned to get back home early. As it turned out, the lunch invitation extended into a dinner invitation as well. My friend ordered some Chinese takeaway as NR got busy making a cocktail of Martini and Scotch.
It was nearly 10 or so in the night when we got back home.
On Saturday, six of us from college had planned to meet up along with wives and kids. The day started out fine, but thunderstorms in the evening - followed by rain and drizzle in some parts - resulted in the last-minute cancellation of the plan.
So, what is your plan for the evening? a friend called to ask. I told him my only plan had just been cancelled and the evening didn't look too promising. Why don't you come over to Noida? I am going to RP's. I asked if RP knew that we would be coming. Don't worry, I call him up just now. This was nearly six in the evening.
RP is an old and common friend of ours and we have spent many evenings at his house. He used to be a journalist; then got interested in politics; then developed an interest in psephology; then caught the travel bug and visited different parts of India; then tried his hands at journalism again before shacking up with a political party's strategy unit.
He told me and the other friends - at this impromptu dinner - many interesting stories. Like this bunch of Tibetans who have been settled on a a plateau in Chattisgarh which is miles away from anywhere. Or this tribe that lives in the middle of the Gir Lion Sanctuary and is credited by some as playing an important role in the survival of the big beast there.
The stories were as fascinating as the ones I got to hear from my better half recently. She had gone to the border of Andhra Pradesh-Chhattisgarh on a mentoring project. The place is affected by the Maoist insurgency and she got to experience the "other India" from really up close - an India messed about with by those who govern and by those who claim to fight for the people.
Unfortunately, India media doesn't have much time for such stories. Neither the advertisers nor the marketers are interested. If TV News=TRP, News Programme Schedule = Sleaze, Sex, Crime. It is difficult to imagine the plight of those working in 50-plus degrees of temperature from the cool confines of 20-plus degrees TV studio. But then again, India is never in short supply of tantalising stories - Sania-Shoaib Wedding, Trouble At The Indian Premier League and now the Honour Killing Of A Young Journalist.
Anyway, that is a bit of digression. RP's house is undergoing renovation, but he made space wherever possible. The kids took over the only functional bedroom with TV. Some of us took over the functional part of the living. Some went over to the balcony and the rest to the functional part of the roof.
It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening and we left RP's house nearly half past midnight.
Sunday brought another unplanned do. This time, my friend invited us to his house. He is my closest friend and we speak almost every day. We have met quite frequently but, in my seven months in Delhi, I haven't been to his house once. This would have never happened on my annual visit.
So, what are you up to today? he asked me. On hearing something that sounded like nothing much, he invited us over. I will call NR as well. He has a young girl and your little one can play with her.
The little one was excited by another day in the company of a kid. Because of her poor health, most of her last week was spent at home. And that does get really boring after a while.
Unfortunately, the friend could not make it till later in the day. So, the little one had to spend a couple of hours playing Bubble Breaker on my phone or watching kids' television.
As for us, we spoke on a range of things - including including domestic help. We would have four or five people working for us, my friend said. One maid does the cooking and cleaning. One maid dusts and mops up the house. Another maid comes to do the laundry and a guy comes to collect the clothes for ironing. Then there are handymen who I pay something extra to come in at short notice and do a good job.
The multiplicity of domestic help is obvious elsewhere in Delhi too. At any social function or on a trip to a park or a mall, families are always accompanied by maid/maids. At the school one morning, one of the Mums was asking another Mum: Why have you got two maids with you? The Mum replied: Oh, they will come on alternate days to pick up my kid. So, I need them to know the drill."
As more and more people join the workforce in India, time has become scarce and money comes in abundance. Apart from the usual housing and transportation costs, there is still enough left to engage individuals who could take the everyday pressures of life off you.
NR arrived with his wife later in the afternoon. Sorry, I couldn't get my daughter along as she was sleeping. The little one was crestfallen. You lied to me again. It was back to Bubble Breaker and kids TV for her as we got busy talking. Finding kids to play with is a much bigger problem in Delhi than it ever was in London/Reading.
Thankfully, the friend's daughter woke up reasonably quickly and was carted in. She is here, she is here - the little one chirped. There was finally someone to play with her. Helped by the grown-ups, the two girls played hide-and-seek for a little while.
The next day was Monday and we had planned to get back home early. As it turned out, the lunch invitation extended into a dinner invitation as well. My friend ordered some Chinese takeaway as NR got busy making a cocktail of Martini and Scotch.
It was nearly 10 or so in the night when we got back home.
3 May 2010
This account makes no statement!
OK. I admit there hasn't been much activity on this blog. After 7 posts each in January and February, only 3 came through in March and 1 in April.
What is more shocking, though, is not even the most loyal of my readers (and there are quite a few of you) nudged me about it.
So, here is my revenge - a second post of the day. Aw'right, I admit that the first one only contained pictures from the recent trip along the Indian highways....but it is something!
The little one has been going to school for almost two weeks now. It should have been three, but she wasn't well all of last week. A chance visit to a swimming pool resulted in an infection that needed antibiotics.
Before you ask, yes, she is fine now. Dropped her off at school on my way to work.
In case I haven't mentioned already, the little one managed to secure a place in Shri Ram School. It is a good school and quite a few her mates from her Montessori are there as well. It is quite expensive too - 45,000 INR at the time of admission, and another 22,000 INR top-up fee as "school fees may be subject to change". That'll be almost 4000 INR a day, considering the little one will only have 20 days of school in the first term!
Quite pricey, some would say. But remember this is a different Delhi we are talking about. This kind of money doesn't make people break a sweat, definitely not at this school. Heck, some parents thought I was whingeing too much when the topic of top-up fee was brought up.
The notice to pay up had come in an Account Statement. No letter. No explanation. Just a request to pay the said amount by the said date.
It would have been helpful to know the reasons for a hike - considering it was a 50% hike. The inflation rate in India is currently 11%, so surely that wasn't the reason. And as far as I know, good teachers and educational material hasn't seen a sudden surge in prices.
The little one's school diary did mention that we should "let a child's imagination soar", but even she couldn't work up a reasonable explanation for this. Sorry, that was a bad joke!
As I mentioned above, fellow parents didn't an issue being made of just a missing explanation. We were all waiting in a queue outside the school uniform shop. The shop only had socks and t-shirts, but didn't have any shorts. Even the socks and t-shirts were in short supply.
Parents with other kids in the school said this had been happening for years. I wondered if this said something about the school's attitude towards parents' time. Nothing at all, a Mum emphatically told me. They are very good with feedback. They listen to everything you have to say.
I told her that accepting criticism is the best disarming tactic in the book. The key thing is whether something has been done to resolve the problem.
The Mum was startled by my petulance. They do a lot of good stuff. They reach out to less privileged kids. They allow kids from poorer backgrounds to study in the school. They have modern teaching methods and they are very good with kids. I told her this was impressive but it still didn't sort out the supply of uniforms or an explanation for a fee hike.
I got the look that is very familiar to me from my childhood days. You spend too much time asking needless questions. Why don't you spend some of that time studying properly and getting good marks? I hear you, Mum. I hear you.
I still don't know why the fee was raised. The little one, though, is very happy at the school. Every day, she is excited about going to school. Every day, she wants to play a bit longer at the school. Every day, she is reminiscing what she did at the school.
What is more shocking, though, is not even the most loyal of my readers (and there are quite a few of you) nudged me about it.
So, here is my revenge - a second post of the day. Aw'right, I admit that the first one only contained pictures from the recent trip along the Indian highways....but it is something!
The little one has been going to school for almost two weeks now. It should have been three, but she wasn't well all of last week. A chance visit to a swimming pool resulted in an infection that needed antibiotics.
Before you ask, yes, she is fine now. Dropped her off at school on my way to work.
In case I haven't mentioned already, the little one managed to secure a place in Shri Ram School. It is a good school and quite a few her mates from her Montessori are there as well. It is quite expensive too - 45,000 INR at the time of admission, and another 22,000 INR top-up fee as "school fees may be subject to change". That'll be almost 4000 INR a day, considering the little one will only have 20 days of school in the first term!
Quite pricey, some would say. But remember this is a different Delhi we are talking about. This kind of money doesn't make people break a sweat, definitely not at this school. Heck, some parents thought I was whingeing too much when the topic of top-up fee was brought up.
The notice to pay up had come in an Account Statement. No letter. No explanation. Just a request to pay the said amount by the said date.
It would have been helpful to know the reasons for a hike - considering it was a 50% hike. The inflation rate in India is currently 11%, so surely that wasn't the reason. And as far as I know, good teachers and educational material hasn't seen a sudden surge in prices.
The little one's school diary did mention that we should "let a child's imagination soar", but even she couldn't work up a reasonable explanation for this. Sorry, that was a bad joke!
As I mentioned above, fellow parents didn't an issue being made of just a missing explanation. We were all waiting in a queue outside the school uniform shop. The shop only had socks and t-shirts, but didn't have any shorts. Even the socks and t-shirts were in short supply.
Parents with other kids in the school said this had been happening for years. I wondered if this said something about the school's attitude towards parents' time. Nothing at all, a Mum emphatically told me. They are very good with feedback. They listen to everything you have to say.
I told her that accepting criticism is the best disarming tactic in the book. The key thing is whether something has been done to resolve the problem.
The Mum was startled by my petulance. They do a lot of good stuff. They reach out to less privileged kids. They allow kids from poorer backgrounds to study in the school. They have modern teaching methods and they are very good with kids. I told her this was impressive but it still didn't sort out the supply of uniforms or an explanation for a fee hike.
I got the look that is very familiar to me from my childhood days. You spend too much time asking needless questions. Why don't you spend some of that time studying properly and getting good marks? I hear you, Mum. I hear you.
I still don't know why the fee was raised. The little one, though, is very happy at the school. Every day, she is excited about going to school. Every day, she wants to play a bit longer at the school. Every day, she is reminiscing what she did at the school.
Pictures from Indian Highways
As promised, a selection of pictures from my work trip along the Indian highways. Would like to put up some more, but that totally depends on the mood of my internet connection:
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