Deja vu?

Ever flown with a budget airline in India? Ever been hungry and willing to pay crazy amounts for crappy food on board a flight? Ever gone hungry (or thirsty) for one of the following reasons on board a flight: no vegetarian meal available/no non-vegetarian meal available/no more food (or drink) available?

If your answer to any of the above is a yes then read on for ideas on how to react to this shameless and brazen abdication of all responsibility and accountability on the part of several budget airlines towards paying customers!

Idea 1: Icy politeness.
Situation:
The stewardess asks her practised "What would you like to eat Sir?"
You reply, "What do you have?"
She says (shamelessly), "Cheese sandwich".
You say (icily), "Then I don't really have a choice, do I, my dear?"
She says (very shamelessly), "No sir."
End result: You eat a lousy cheese sandwich.

Idea 2: Play the religion card.
Situation:
Stewardess - Would you like a cheese or vegetable puff Sir?
You - No I want a chicken puff. It's on your menu.
Stewardess - Sir we are out of chicken puffs. We only have the vegetarian puffs. Can I get  you one?
You - No it is against my religion to eat vegetables and cheese. I must have a chicken puff.
Stewardess (stumped) - Oh!
End result: You get your chicken puff and eat it piously as you wonder how the stewardess produced it........reached out of the window and plucked it out of a puffy fluffy cloud maybe!

Idea 3: Depend on a good Samaritan!
Situation:
Myself (knowing from the dialogues between the stewardess and the passengers before me that what I want to eat is not available, and resigned to the situation): I'd like a cup of tea please. How much is that? (fishing around in my handbag for money to pay)
Stewardess (believe it or nuts): I'm sorry Ma'am, we don't have any tea bags.
Myself: WHAT? I DON'T BELIEVE THIS. ARE YOU KIDDING OR WHAT?
Veteran Passenger from two rows in front of me (sympathetically): Here Ma'am use this three -in- one tea bag. Just ask for a cup of hot water.
End result: I make myself some much needed tea in about half a cup of lukewarm water which is brought to me extremely grudgingly, but placed on my tray table with a flourish and a hoity toity, " Here you are Ma'am. Enjoy".

Idea 4: Shame the shameless! (maybe this one's only for bold women passengers).
Situation:
Stewardess - What can I get you to eat Ma'am?
My girlfriend - A chicken kathi roll please.
Stewardess - I only have a paneer kathi roll Ma'am.
My girlfriend (sullenly) - Ok, I'll have to take it then won't I?
My girlfriend eats her rock-hard paneer kathi roll, then takes a walk to the lavatory which is at the pantry end of the fuselage. As she waits for the lavatory to become vacant she spots the entire cabin crew chomping on kathi rolls. She makes idle conversation with them until a chunk of succulently tender chicken falls onto the floor from one of the culprit rolls. Her mouth falls open for a moment before sheer and loud indignation takes over. "You said there were no chicken kathi rolls!" she shouts accusingly at the lying stewardess whose mouth has fallen open and remained open through this entire surreal episode!
End result: My girlfriend is applauded by the rest of the passengers as she walks back to her seat.

Idea 5: Drop names.
Situation:
 Hungry, starving, but very polished looking passenger ( who's just been told there is no more food available) on a Kingfisher flight for instance: Hmmm.........(scratching his distinguished beard) ......must talk to Vijay about this when I meet him next week...........
End result: Not known but certainly worth a try!
  
   

Yin, Yang, Yosemite

If there is a Yin and Yang in Nature, and I know there is, then I felt its perfect balance in Yosemite. Where the Grand Canyon was pure testosterone, the tranquil meadows, the wild flowers, and the sometimes placid Merced found their perfect jigsaw fit in the crashing falls and the treacherous rock faces of Yosemite Valley, in much the same way the Yin and Yang spoon into each other so seamlessly.


Bridalveil Waterfall


Where I cowered away from the edge of the Canyon's South Rim, I stood and gazed and drank in both the awesome and the awe inspiring in Yosemite, the one always making me thirsty for the other, so I never felt I had got too much or even enough of either....


And then there was the Merced, moody as hell....unable to make up its mind between Yin and Yang, mercurial and manic, mellow and meandering.....If the river was fickle, the meadows and their wild flowers were dependable in their soothing, calming ways..... And what can I say about the giant Sequoia trees ....that they are an infinitely patient woman, or that they are tall hunky men? Check out for yourself the true Spirit of Yosemite......




                                                                               



Good old Half Dome                                                

                                                                          

                

Kaun Banega Crorepati? Agrawal Banega Crorepati!

The last time I was in Lucknow to work, I was accompanied by two other colleagues. As always, not being alone in a strange town meant we could stay out till late at night, and that's exactly what we did! After dinner on the first night we set out in search of a much fantasized about and romanticized Lucknowi paan (think tawaifs, kothas, mujras and lovingly crafted paans), but came back to the hotel disappointed. The next night was our last night and we were determined to find that elusive paan. We found it not far from our hotel, within the premises of a lowrise office block, at a paan stall that appeared to be famous, going by the number of people who stopped by to indulge in the treats served up there. And treats they were! Take a look at this paan menu! I'm sure you'll agree that Katrina Kaif is the least exotic thing on it if you are a paan lover.

If we were impressed by the menu, then we were nothing short of floored by the paanwallah! Shining out of his eyes and in fact his entire person was a great pride in what he did for a living. Every paan he served up was a labour of love, love for each of his concoctions and for each customer, love that rang out with the tolling of the bell he struck every time he handed over a carefully folded paan, like it was a work of art or a precious object! Customers came and customers went, and not once did he forget to strike that bell. The day before, when we had had lunch at a nearby Pizza Hut, we had rung a bell on our way out to show that we were satisfied. Here was a paanseller who rang a bell to thank every customer for coming to his stall and giving him the pleasure and privilege of making a paan! Amazing humility, don't you think? So sold were we on this man's professional ethos that, chomping contentedly on our respective paans we began jokingly to discuss writing for the boss a brilliant new joint venture business proposal with Shri Agrawal the paanwallah as partner! Or maybe we would just strike out on our own! Why share our brainwave   with the boss?! On our second round of paans, and chatting with him between customers, we asked Agrawalji if we could contact him from Delhi to order paan for a special occasion. We were promptly handed a business card with a phone number on it, and very confidently informed that in six months time there would also be an email id. The man had a vision for himself and his business! He had dreams but he was not a dreamer. He had dreams and he had plans. The neon sign over his stall advertised him as Agrawal Nawabi Paanseller (Ghantawala). Hmm....smart......nice way to set himself apart from others in the business. He was growing steadily in our esteem. We now wanted his postal address so we could refer other colleagues to him, and when he said in Hindi "meri gol building hai" the three of us turned in unison to look at the building in whose shadow the paan stall stood. It never occurred to us to doubt that he owned a building; in our minds he was already a paan tycoon! Our only confusion was with regard to the shape of the building, for it did not look round from any angle. Pointing to the building one of us asked, "Bhaiyya yeh building? Par yeh to gol nahi hai." To which he repeated "Meri gol building, madam, meri gol building". Still no sign of enlightenment on the faces of the three dumb Delhi women! Exasperated he pointed to the bottom of the business card he had given us earlier. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh......ok..... that's fine, the Marigold Building compound is your stall's address, and you don't own a building, but what the hell, we are still impressed with you Agrawalji! As if sensing that he had made an impression on us, he beckoned us closer to the bell and tracked the roughly engraved writing with his forefinger. It went "A. B. C. Agrawal Banega Crorepati. Signed Manoj Agrawal"! So be it Mr. Agrawal, you can do it!

Jai Ho Major Domo!

A piece in the Sunday Express Magazine a few weeks ago struck a chord with me. Titled "Maid to Order" , it contained some good, commonsense advice on HR management tips for your home. Tip number 7 said: As for power struggles between household help, let the bossy one hire the other one... ." While I would not do exactly that, I have for sometime believed in what the writer termed as "Job Enrichment" for household staff, especially staff with above average intelligence, loads of inititiative, a sense of responsibility and more than a touch of bossiness! I must confess it has worked for me to put the bossy one in charge and allow her to lord it over her underling/s!

If it weren't for this bossy one in your household staff, think how you would handle a crazy, cantankerous and grumpy cook who always said that the menu you wanted her to turn out took too long to cook, and who invariably wanted to put off cooking at least one thing on that menu to the next day?!! Well, my advice to you would be, "Don't handle her. Leave her to Major Domo Uma."  Uma who cracks the whip, cajoles the crazy cook, bullies her, and coaxes her. Uma, who gets the cook to turn out the complete menu I have planned for the day, so I not only get to eat what I want (as against what the cook wants to cook), but I also get to keep my temper and my sanity!

What Uma extracts out of the crazy cook with a little wile and guile and loads of patience, Shi Ayi, my dear major domo in Beijing extracted out of not one but two young maids with sheer intimidation!

Not that she even tried to intimidate them...... her status as a retired Public Service Bureau (the eyes and ears of the Government of the PRC in the homes of foreign diplomats) employee of the old, Maoist China  was enough to make these two young things quake and shake in their shoes and toe the line she laid down! They were certainly not fooled by her beaming, good natured, grandmotherly look. Years of training had made her sharp and canny and politically savvy. She looked down unabashedly on the two young migrant maids from the impoverished province of Anhui, and used all of her Beijing sophistication to keep them in line. Incidentally, Shi Ayi's underlings included my kids as well. She hustled them into taking off their shoes, washing their hands, and eating her delicious pork dumplings when they returned from school, albeit in a less stern voice than she used with the Anhui girls!

What would I do without my Uma and my Shi Ayi, who although they most definitely are unaware of this strange sounding term, have been my almost indispensable major domos!

And though our erstwhile Man Friday or Mr. D as I affectionately called him was not a major domo with any minions to boss around, I cannot not mention him here and I could not not thank him in my little speech at my graduation party some years ago. For without him would I have had the courage to go back to school after a quarter of a century, leaving home for work at 7 am, proceeding to school to attend classes until 10 pm, and returning to find the family fed and happy, and Mr. D himself waiting for me with a hot dinner?

If I was able to do three different and exciting part time jobs at a time, or simultaneously work and study, and all without being stressed out, it is thanks to these  individuals, who though they will never read this blog deserve my profuse thanks - not only for making it possible for me to follow my dreams because they did such a good job of  looking after my home, but also because I believe that I have been a much better and happier employer since the day I began to acknowledge their immense contribution to my life as it is today!





      

Who is Mandodari?

Who is Mandodari? I can't believe I spent about two full hours scratching my head trying to answer that question! And in case you think I'm stupid and should have known Mandodari was the wife of Ravana or that I should have googled it if I didn't know this, let me tell you it was not that easy and googling it was not how I was going to find out!

Okay, let me make this easier. As the Secretary of the Indian Embassy Spouses' Association (IESA) when my husband and I were posted in Washington DC, I was required to arrange various events, outings, festival celebrations, and also to send out emails to the association members informing them about transport arrangements, time, date, the event venue, the programme and other important details. Occasionally the programme scheduled for a certain month required the members to confirm their presence due to the limited availability of seats, or for the purpose of  making transport arrangements.

Our visit to the Mormon Temple that month was one such event. The Mormons are a secretive and mysterious sect, and visits to the Mormon Temple tend to be highly organized affairs in order to keep visitors under control. So it was imperative that we give the temple authorities an exact number. And so I sent out the usual emails to our members asking them to confirm by a certain date, giving them a phone number they could call, and informing them that a confirmation was compulsory.

Sometime after I had sent out the emails, and maybe a few days before the given deadline, I happened to meet a bunch of our members at an Embassy event. I reminded some of them who had not called to say they were coming, that time was running out, the deadline was soon approaching, and that they should not miss this opportunity to visit the Mormon Temple. That's when sweet and kindly Mrs. Arora piped up and said that she was dying to go but did not know the person she was supposed to call to confirm her presence. "Who is Mandodari, Amita? You said that we have to call Mandodari but I have not met her and I don't know who she is."

Well I was as lost as she was. WHO WAS MANDODARI? I have never been much of a people's person, my PR stinks, and I am not the most sociable person around. But Embassy life is pretty close knit, even in large missions like in the US, and I was the Secretary of the association for God's sake! I was the one with the database of members' phone numbers and addresses, I was the one who probably had the most regular interactions with all the members for some IESA related reason or other, and I was the one that any new additions to the Embassy family were instructed to establish contact with immediately on arrival. So I would have known, should have known Mandodari if there was such a person in our association!

But I didn't. So who was this mysterious lady? And had I really put down her name as the person to call if our members wanted to visit the Mormon Temple? It was impossible. I tortured myself all the way home, only just managing to focus on my driving. Pulling into the garage, I made straight for my room, turned on my laptop, opened my sent folder and pulled up the email I had sent out to all our members. I read it carefully, every single word, every if, and, but, and of, searching desperately for the name Mandodari, but came up empty handed. Starting at the top again I adopted a new strategy. This time I looked carefully at every word in the email that began with an M. I was going crazier by the second and losing hope quickly. And then suddenly I saw it and almost shouted "Eureka"! I had found Mrs. Arora's mysterious Mandodari! There she was in bold font and all upper case letters! See if you can spot her in my email! 

Dear Member,

Our event this month is a visit to the Mormon Temple.

                                                          * Date: February 28 
                                                              * Time: 11 am  
                                     * Meeting Place: Metro Station Dupont Circle 
                                           * RSVP: 3013209556 (MANDATORY)
                                                 I hope you will be able to come.
                                              Looking forward to seeing you soon,
                                                                      Sincerely,
                                                              Amita Bambawale
                                                               Secretary, IESA
I looked again at the word and checked the spelling. I had to make sure I had not gone crazy, that what I had written was Mandatory, and that I had got to the bottom of the mystery of Mandodari!           

A Confession!

I'm going to make a confession today. Every year without fail the Republic Day spectacle on Rajpath makes me a little teary eyed, and this year was no different. I always feel a little foolish at that little lump that invariably forms in my throat, and I always struggle to hide this from whoever it is I'm watching the parade with!

I'm sure there are many others who feel the same way but never acknowledge it even to themselves because it seems stupidly sentimental and unworldly and naive. True, we are surrounded by scamsters, tax evaders, Swiss bank account holders with crores and crores in black money stashed away safely in them. We are bombarded everyday with news that slowly but surely destroys any hopes we might have that these thugs will be brought to justice.

And yet the pomp and pageantry on Rajpath unfailingly remind me about all that is precious, pride worthy, and beautiful about my country. How can I ignore and close my eyes to the fact that despite the discipline, perfection and brilliance of our armed forces, amply on display on this day every year, the military remains staunchly unpoliticised and loyal to our Constitution? This is just one very good reason why we need to keep celebrating the day we adopted our Constitution, the day we committed ourselves to Democracy and the Rule of Law. There are of course a million other reasons including the fact that we are pretty much surrounded by countries that make a mockery of their constitutions, if they have one that is!

On the one hand it saddens me to hear young people sometimes say in despairing, disparaging and cynical  tones, "Yeh India hai, yahan kuch bhi ho sakta hai", but then on the other, I feel better when I remember what a very senior,  sophisticated, brilliant bureaucrat said in the days following the terrorist attacks on Parliament some years ago. She said and I quote "I cried because I was so hurt that our Parliament had been desecrated and attacked and that they had wanted to destroy it."

And now that I have confessed to crying a little as I watch the parade every January 26, let me also confess that it feels wonderful to shed my cynicism about India, if only for a couple of hours every year! I want to say to all those jaded young Indians, "Try it, it feels good!"