Bangalore started out far from the bang one might expect with a name like that. But things happen, right? The cab arrived at the airport, and we had quite the journey--90 minutes, the same amount of time it took the flight to get here!--to the service apartment where Id be staying for what Id thought--and later feared--would be quite an ungodly long time. It wasnt that things werent going to happen here in Bangalore, it was the place where I landed! Obviously, I had no idea what was coming, how large *any* of these cities were, or what and whom to expect next! I had a consultation scheduled for the 28th, but that was one of those half-dozen of one, six of the other things since I had promised what felt like everyone and his/her mother that I wouldnt venture out on my own on the ground during my stay in India. Now understand, I braved the areas in the Bandra section of Mumbai because it was a very short distance, the area was very pleasant, and I had seen it in the daylight and knew which way--more or less--I had to go. It was about a block and a half from where Id been staying at Davids, so I was fine. But in Bangalore, the area was so commercial, and all I saw were things like business buildings, a cement company next door, a Bharat Petroleum station at the fork in the road across the street, and that street felt like a VERY wide one to me. In fact, every time Ive crossed the street, Ive felt like a five-yo trying to cross amidst cars and trucks, rickshaws and motorbikes, other pedestrians and bicycles, and how DID they DO this??? MG! They have no rules here! Well no, thats not entirely true. As Ajai (Ill explain about Ajai and Sukanya shortly) told me this morning, Its not that we dont have rules here. We do. Its that nobody pays attention to them. (Thats really not a verbatim quote, but Im still putting it in quotes because thats the gist of what he was saying.) The entrance to the service apartment was set in away from the street with what appeared to be a pleasant but little walkway. And believe me, little definitely describes it. For me, if Im tiny already, this was Lilliputian! But it was okay. I am not fat anymore, and it wasnt a problem as long as I was walking single file. I entered the building via 3 or 4 steps (Were they tiled? I dont remember.) There was a foyer with some doors, and beyond that, there was a small room with a reception kind of area with a couch and a chair and the desk with the high separator between the person at the desk and the visitor. The manager asked for a deposit. I gave 8000 Rs. Two other males were there in the reception area with the manager. One immediately picked up the paperwork the manager had photocopied and began to read it. If *ever* I felt the urge to show someone s/he had a sudden death wish, that may have been it! This person didnt know me, had no need to know my business, and I really had wanted to show him a solid right cross! Somehow, I kept my cool--and then lit into the manager that what was on my paperwork was *none* of that individuals business. Thankfully, the manager learned quickly. The two males grabbed my bags, and the three took me upstairs to Room 101, or was it 102? Ive thankfully forgotten. The one who had looked at my paperwork, I later learned, barely even knew English. That really was fortunate for him. On the second floor (to Westerners in North America, its the second floor; to everyone else, we moved from the ground floor to the first floor) were three doors. The other two doors were painted black. I wondered why mine was a dull, dirty white instead of the more pleasant shiny black. I said nothing. We entered the room. It was spacious, I suppose, at least for a traveler: To the left was a black cupboard area--a series of 5 cupboards, as I recall--set on the floor, standing about 4 feet high. On top of the area in shiny black there was a small cream-colored microwave that looked like it might be 20 or so years old because it resembled more like a toaster oven with no minutes to be seen, just a ballpark guesstimate of how long youd need. On the other hand, come to think of it, it was about the same size as one of those Easy Bake ovens you buy kids just starting to learn to cook. But at least it would be hot food by the time I reheated it! Next to the microwave was a tiny, tiny refrigerator. Or at least thats what its called, I guess. One shelf for cold food or drinks. One shelf for tiny, tiny, TINY ice cubes. Thats IT! lol I guess it might have been about 2 cu. ft, if that! To the right as we stood at the door, there was a large wardrobe painted in black. There were drawers or cabinets underneath. In front of the wardrobe, there was a table and the bathroom door. Between the area with the microwave/teeny fridge area and the huge bed beyond, there was a chair and a table where I realized Id be eating. Beyond the bed, there was a desk and chair--but Id later realize I couldnt actually use the desk because there werent enough outlets for me to plug in the computer. I put the computer on the bed. There was a television on a kind of credenza at the foot of the bed, but other than the news in English and MTV or VH1, 99% of what I was seeing, of course, was in Hindi, Telugu, Kannada, Tamil, you get the idea. LOADS of stations, and certainly at least 5 times as many as we have at home in Binghamton! I got to know that I could see Hawaii 5-0 and Blue Bloods and Survivor on channel 511. Whatever else, I got accustomed to flipping the stations till there was a power outage and someone had to teach me how to reset the television again. Anyway, there you have the whole room. Someone, I dont remember who, mentioned that there was a cyclone coming through so I knew to expect; but geez, it sounded like someone had turned on the shower outside the window! Its like some of Binghamtons best storms without the winds! I was shown the bathroom. Pretty standard for an Indian bathroom/shower combo which Im quite used to by now, but I saw no towels. Not a washcloth. Not a hand towel. Not a bath towel. Towels? I asked.. One of the two males went to get the towel. BIG bath towel, he said, opening the towel to show me a standard small bath towel. And what do you want for breakfast? someone asked. Dosa, I replied after hearing my choice of dosa, idli or one third thing I couldnt understand from the mumbling voice. I guess they were surprised and thought I would go for toast and eggs. lol I dont really eat toast at home in upstate New York, so why would I travel seven seas to do so in India? :) I asked about a way to get dinner because I just had no strength to leave even if I had dared. They assured me one of the two males would go to get whatever I needed. They brought a menu, and I opted for a favorite of mine, Palak Paneer--Spinach and Cheese, a favorite of mine--with Roti. The menu said 100 Rupees (Rs). I was charged 135. Hmmm...I wasnt so sure I liked getting charged for things I was ordering and getting a higher price than I knew what would be charged; but I had to admit, the idea of having whats now become comfort food in Palak or Saag Paneer in a place I was unsure of was indeed comforting. There was so much food in that order of Palak Paneer, I saved half in the fridge for the next days lunch since India has retrained my diet and Im actually eating three meals a day again. I was so exhausted on Monday night (the 25th), I hadnt realized very much about the room yet before I ate and fell into a sound sleep on the bed. I just had to slip the pillow against the soft headboard (yes, that was soft), bend my knees to avoid the feeling of the princess and the pea that was sure to come with the nearly rock hard bed (although Ive experienced more of those here than not, so Im getting used to it somehow by now), and I fell fast asleep. (Btw, the pea I was feeling was my coccyx, the tailbone, and I most definitely did NOT have 20 mattresses beneath me!). The next morning, I was up early and working on the computer, but trying to work on a bed that was clearly *not* for the princess and the pea, fidgeting, moving every which way to get comfortable. My back hurt from twisting to work on the computer when I wasnt sitting with my feet up, my feet bent, back to the side. Princess and the Pea definitely had her workout planned already. Now you wont believe this, but the *doorbell* rescued me from that discomfort of trying to find a more comfortable way of sitting (there was none). I leaped off the bed and realized that my hips werent very appreciative of the fidgeting either. I *creaked* to the door to answer as this blast of ungodly music didnt merely waft toward me, it came at me more like the brass band from Music Man. Mg, in such an enclosed area with tall ceilings high enough to echo, it blasted me out of my silence quite quickly. Dhanyawad, I said, allowing him to bring in the food. English, came the reply from the one who had made a production of opening the bath towel. I got *A* dosa. One dosa. *Ek* dosa. It was okay. Dosas for me are actually quite filling. they also brought chutney (pretty good) and sambar that was more on the eh side than the good side; but after I heated it in the Suzy Homemaker Oven excuse of a microwave (Yes, seriously! lol Just the name was missing!), it was edible especially on an empty stomach when you desperately wanted to fill your belly. I figured this place would ask me each day about my choice of breakfast. No. First choice was going to be routine in this place that *might* have been barely one step up from The Exotic Marigold Hotel. I struggle to believe that, but okay. Ill go along with the idea. The English, no Hindi guy came to pick up my plate after breakfast. By this time, Id found the cigar package in the cupboard part of the wardrobe. Yah yah, room clean! he replied with pride, his voice rising to show that pride. No, it needs to be clean. I answered. Yah! Yah! Room clean! No, and Ill prove its not clean, I said, showing him the soles of my obviously blackened feet. The manager came at some point. I told him again that I wanted the room clean. The manager suddenly turned into the slave master without the whip. He will clean the room, two times a day! No, I said, once a day is enough, but please clean the room! English, no Hindi ignored what I said. I come two time a day! Not necessary, I told him. Just clean the room once a day. Next, I told the manager about the broken hose by the toilet. Now, if I had wanted to take a shower with my clothes on, I really would have stepped into the shower with my clothes on. But otherwise, Id prefer to enter the bathroom the same way I would expect to come out: with my clothes fully dry and not looking as if I had my clothes on when I went into the shower! I will call the plumber, the manager said, and I thanked him. Hours later, still no plumber. English, no Hindi exclaimed, PlumBer coming, plumBer coming soon. I tried to correct him. It was useless. Next, I begged him not to use that doorbell with the variety of booming melodies (they were NOT melodious!) to greet my nonexistent visitors except for the manager and his two eager helpers. That lasted about 4 visits. I dont even remember whether it was Tuesday or Wednesday evening when the doorbell had resumed its ability to wake the dead--including me from a sound sleep (thankfully, they didnt try at that hour). At this rate, I suspected I was on the way to the short-fuse circuit... I guess it was Tuesday. During lunch, I decided Id buy a family meal to last for about 5, 6, 7 meals, even if I got sick of it, which I knew would happen. At least I wouldnt have to brace myself for that doorbell and might stand a chance of avoiding these visitors just a bit more. Still, the menu said 235 Rs. The bill was 260. No worries. The quantities were really quite large. (An interjection here: the Indian rupee is *about* 62 to the US dollar.) I hadnt been outside yet in Bangalore because I had promised a few people I wouldnt go anywhere by myself (although--as you know, I did go to Cafe Coffee Day a block from where I was staying in Mumbai). Sometime on Tuesday, depression gave way to tears, tears I hadnt shed in so many years, I cant remember. I used to have problems crying. It felt like I couldnt breathe, but thats when I used to smoke. Something obviously changed when I stopped. The tears flowed. I barely had eaten lunch or dinner. By the time I finally stopped in the evening, the phone rang. It was my friend Ruplekha Choudhurie, and the tears started again. Somehow, a realization struck me...and I found myself suddenly very quiet, and peaceful. I really cant explain what happened to change it, just suffice to say I knew it would be okay and that there was a reason for that peacefulness to have replaced the tears. I had come to India with a few expectations and a lot of eagerness to explore, to search, to find...whatever I wanted to find, I wasnt sure what that was, really. It was okay. It was a process I needed even if I didnt understand all of the pieces as they would eventually come together. But on Tuesday night, there had been some kind of breakthrough, and I realized I was crying not from fear or hurt but from the shedding of the expectation that things dont always have to go my way, that its okay and it doesnt even mean anything has changed. (It hasnt.) And somehow, at the same time I dont know all of the answers to the search, I know the answers I need to have, Theyre reassuring, and the smile has returned. Wednesday blurred into a day Id like to forget. The plumBer came. They took my plate. I had to ask them for another one--and to think I was trying to cocoon till the days passed... Didnt know how long I would survive it. Thursday came into play, and I had reminded them again that I had a client in x number of minutes, and they really needed to finish because it was important. 10:45, and English, no Hindi wandered in. (rolling the eyes) On the dot, Ajai and Sukanya called and they werent sure where I was. I said Id meet them downstairs. Ive described myself, although I guess I dont need to if the stares of so many so far are any indication. Im still a Martian. :D I locked the door after sending English, no Hindi downstairs, and I headed outside to try to see them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something running past me. Grey, fat, furry, and omg am I glad I didnt see him when he was heading in my direction!! Of course, if Ganesha were sitting astride him and the two were prancing along, Id have felt a lot better than I did at the moment; but at least he kept running past, thankfully without a squeak or whatever big fat rats do. The three of us went upstairs, and I could see Sukanyas and Ajais faces fall when we entered the room. By the time the session had ended, the two told me I was checking out and they were taking me home with them. What could I say, no? lol I dont think so! Such kindnesses are received with open arms! Ajai was incredible. Before I could say another word, he promptly vanished downstairs and said I was checking out. Thankfully, he got a refund of the unused portion of the deposit. A blessing! Wow. Thats just from the 25th to the 28th of November. I have a *lot* more to do so I think Ill post this and head into catch up mode with the rest before I *really* fall out of sync with this. Stay tuned for more. Forgive the lack of pics in this one. Consider it a blessing. More pics coming. I need to edit them to size and then write more but I dont want to delay this any further.
Posted on: Thu, 05 Dec 2013 02:28:41 +0000
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