You've been boxed up!

As mentioned in the previous post, the first week of September turned out to be a rather short one.

Apart from public holidays, it also involved some time off to prepare for the journey back to the United Kingdom.

Packing and removal of our personal effects was the first step. This happened on Tuesday when - after six weeks of chasing, assessing, bidding and finalising - representatives of the removals company turned up at my doorstep. Nearly half-a-dozen of them. Some were in the removals company's red t-shirts. Some in plain clothes.

They brought along enough packing material - boxes, packing paper, bubble-wrap, thermocol sheets - to pack the entire house. Quite different from those who came to remove our stuff in the UK. They had to eventually borrow boxes, cello tape, newspaper and old bubble wraps from us.

But then again, there were just two of them to do everything.

In Delhi, we had a supervisor, five packers, three helpers and a driver of the removal van.

The work started at about 9.30 in the morning. Mr Supervisor could that I was nervous about the quality of their packing. "We are FIAM and FIDI certified, and have been doing this for years", he said as I kept an eye on the old man packing the fragile stuff. "In fact, our boss is based out of the United Kingdom".

We have regular work from embassies and multinational companies like P&G. Please don't worry about your stuff. It will reach UK safely."

The old man most definitely knew his stuff. He not only handled the fragile stuff well, but used the packing material liberally to cushion it. Mindful of the ongoing monsoon in Delhi, his colleague put in plastic sheets to water-proof the packed stuff.

Their work didn't betray any sense of urgency. It seemed like this was the only job for the day. Quietly and carefully, they wrapped our life in Delhi - bundle after bundle, box after box. Whenever one of them tried to cut a corner, the supervisor would gently wrap the guilt person's knuckles.

Mr Supervisor was professional, someone who seemed to have rised up the ranks. He most certainly knew packing and was quite methodical with his labelling. Each box was labelled with a summary of its contents, before being stacked up in a corner of the living room.

We had chosen a weekday so that the little one was at school while the packing was happening. But the relaxed pace of work meant she was back before the packers could finish off with the delicate stuff.

The day hadn't begun all that well. Our domestic help had managed to break a couple of glasses before the packers arrived. The packers, though, handled these well and carefully packaged and boxed it.

Like in the UK, the initial assessment turned out to be conservative. The supervisor thought all the stuff would be packed in about 60-65 boxes. In the end, it was nearly 70-odd boxes that our personal effects occupied.

It was nearly 6 in the evening when the packing got over. The driver was instructed to bring the removal van to our gate and, one by one, they started taking the boxes away.

That was when they committed their only mistake. In the rush to finish off the job, a removal guy manage to break a flowerpot of the Landlady. To be honest, I didn't feel too bad. Served her right for what she done to the little one for Janmasthami cultural function!!

After they left, the house felt like it did before our stuff arrived from UK last December. Bare walls. Bare minimum utensils. Bare minimum clothes. No TV. No music. No computer. No toys for the little one.

A sense of deja vu

Just over a month to return to the United Kingdom, and it seems like yesterday once more.

Smarter from my experience of moving from to Delhi, I kicked off the process at the beginning of July 2010 - allowing an additional month more than the last time.

The process was the same. Me to the Manager. The Manager to the HR Person. The HR Person to the Outsourced Arm. The Outsourced Arm to their Shortlisted Removal Firms. The only additional step this time were the Indian contractors of the Shortlisted Removal Firms.

Maybe it's the time of the year or just how the process works, but the experience was exactly the same as in 2009. Nudge, nudge. No response. Nudge, nudge. We are working on it. Nudge, nudge. A lull in the process. Nudge, nudge. Yes, we are working on it. Nudge, nudge. Panic. More nudge, nudge. More panic. Finally, the packer/mover calls less than a week before the due date to confirm the job will be done.

Fortunately, this time we don't have a flight to catch the day after our stuff leaves. Unfortunately, the collision of MSC Chitra and MV Khalijia may have caused a backlog at Mumbai's Jawaharlal Nehru Port. You should allow six-to-eight weeks for it to reach destination, the removal firm's representative has told us.

Given that a similar timescale for our stuff to reach India turned into nearly 12 weeks, we are keeping our fingers crossed and hoping for the best.

With the clock ticking, we are trying to make the most of our time. On Monday evening, we drove across town to Noida for dinner and pre-Rakhi celebrations at a friend's.

It was a rare weekday evening foray, but we could only brave it as the next day was a public holiday.

Rakhi isn't a festival that registers on your radar in the UK. It is very difficult to miss it here, though. The shops start selling all kinds of rakhis, the newspapers and TV are full of commercials promising lucrative Rakhi Offers. At the school too, they tell the student about the festival.

To the little one, we tie rakhis so that brothers can protect their sisters, if someone bothers them. Right? She had even picked up a song for the occasion - rakhi ka pyara yeh bandhan, rakhi ka pyara yeh bandhan.....

At the friend's place, she was excited to see the girls tying to tie rakhi to the boys. After carefully monitoring the ritual, she choose the friend's son to be her brother - tying the rakhi first, then stuffing his mouth with sweets.

The evening was a nice, spontaneous do - just like the ones we used to have. Good company. Good food. Good booze.

I missed the music though. Our earlier do's would be incomplete without songs, but I guess all of us have toned down with the arrival of kids.

On the way back, I lost the way and found myself on the Greater Noida Expressway. This speedster's paradise doesn't allow any u-turns (through underpasses or overhead bridges) and added 50 kilometres (30 miles) and 45 minutes to our journey.

It was nearly 1 in the morning, but I couldn't help wonder how do people working or staying on the other side of road, commute. I mean isn't it idiotic to expect them to cover the entire expressway twice to get to their destination.

Tuesday was Rakhi, the first time in 11 years that I was home for the festival. My sisters were really happy and looking forward to the day. And given the joys of the previous evening, the little one was pretty excited about tying the rakhi to her cousin brother.

Two of my three sisters are in town, and it was great to have rakhis tied by them.

The little one too tied rakhi to her cousin. The cousin presented her with a box of Cadbury's Celebrations chocolates (I told you about TV commercials). It didn't take long for the two of them to finish off the entire box.