Delhi. Mera ghar. This week's blog is coming atcha in three vignettes.
Shiv Kumar
At Haryana Bhawan, my place of residence, there are many, varied workers. Abhay Singh and Harish for example, my first acquaintances, work in the canteen. A number of other workers are floormen. Residents can ring a bell and the workers for that particular floor come to fetch water, clean the floors, fix the air conditioning, change the sheets, collect laundry etc. The sweeper that works on floor four in Haryana Bhawan B is Shiv Kumar. Because of my poor Hindi skills, when Shiv first told me his name I thought he said "Shikmar" so I proceeded to call him so until my massi Kavita corrected me. Shiv Kumar is a great part of humanity. The man literally can not be found without a smile on his face. He has taught me a number of Hindi phrases and always greets me when I go for my morning run (generally with comments such as "Kaat-ee, how do I say, YOU are so beautiful," or "Kaat-ee, I miss you" or "Kaat-ee, YOU call my son!"). Before Angela left he came (upon hearing according to Abhay that "the madame was returning to the motherland") and gave us each outfits, as presents. Now I'm not one to turn down presents and I have to say, these outfits are going to make for a great story. A long navy blue straight wool skirt and a button up heavy cotton orange polo with the word "COTY" stitched on the upper left make up each pair. Stellar! He showed us pictures of his family and then proceeded to call his wife on our room phone, requesting that we talk to her in our bits of known Hindi. So, of course I naturally felt so honored that this man who works as a sweeper and has three children and a wife to provide for is spending his money on outfits for American girls in the guest house he works at. So I told him that I would make sure to get something from America for him, anything he wanted, and then Angela and I both gave him a thank you card written (albeit poorly) in Hindi. So I thought, that was that, Angela left, I am now staying in room 406 solo and I figured Shiv would keep smiling and coming by randomly to see if needed anything. And that was pretty much the case. Except for today. Today I stayed home from work because I was feeling quite sick (no doubt to my complete lack of regard for what eating virtually anything new I can find will do to my digestive system) and Shiv came to ask if he could sweep the floor. Upon learning I was sick, he felt my forehead and asked if he could get me anything. I said no and that I just wanted to get some rest. Long story short I now have a GIANT flower arrangement in my room and am quite sure I might just be engaged to Shiv's son...
S. Ram
This story is much shorter. So every morning I catch a cabby outside of Haryana Bhawan which takes me approximately 9 km to work. One morning, an autowala picked me up, was very reasonable in allowing me to use the meter for payment (95% of autowalas will insist their meter is broken and try and charge upwards of Rs. 50-60 over the meter). His auto was clean, red pleather seats, and he had a red patterned scarf hanging from his right side mirror. What I remembered more was the cap he wore. It was a baseball cap which read "A Well-Built Beer" on the back. All in all I liked this guy. But, as I emerged from his auto at WPC, I bid him farewell assuming I would never see him again. A few days later, he was heading down Copernicus Marg at the same time I was heading to catch my cabby and he again provided my ride. Now, he comes every morning, 9am sharp. Another absolutely terrific addition to humanity.
Monsoon
The monsoon season in India is supposed to last from late June to early September. This summer, mid-July in Delhi I hadn't seen a drop of rain. Everyone was saying it was likely not to show it's face this year and that the monsoons sometimes will skip a year every four or five. Fine by me, though probably not so nice for the rice paddy farmers in the rural areas north of here. Regardless, this week, it started raining. And we're not just talking rain, we're talking downpour. Monday the streets were completely flooded outside of the office. But by the time I got home, it had stopped raining and I saw no harm in grabbing a cup of coffee in CP and grabbing some dinner to bring home. As I exited the coffee shop however around 8:30 it was pouring again. I had an umbrella but it was little use. I was up to my ankles in water just on the sidewalk. I took the metro to the closest stop to HB but it still required about a 500m walk. So just picture it: dark, down-pouring, I have my food in my purse and my little dinky umbrella over my head, trudging through the water. There was a man walking next to me without an umbrella and I was going to offer to share, but a) it seemed a little silly considering he was already completely drenched and b) I was quickly by-passing him as my speed reflected my desire to get home. Now, Copernicus Marg (the street where I live) is undergoing quite a bit of construction, repairing the side walks. Up ahead in my path I say that there were a few piles of dirt emerging from the river that was slowly encompassing more and more of the street. Attempting to skirt the construction and looking for a way back to the sidewalk I took one misstep and found myself waist deep in water. I couldn't help but just burst out laughing as I quickly swam to the sidewalk and crawled out. The man who had been walking next to me had caught up and was laughing nearly as hard as me. At this point I found it completely appropriate to offer him a share in my umbrella.
Every ounce of love I have - to you - from Delhi. :)
