It is Never as Easy as it Seems, A Day in Delhi

After church today, I decided to drop in on Amit's photography exhibit at the Convention Foyer of the Indian Habitat Center. That should be easy, I've been to the Habitat Center countless times. But wait, where is the Convention Foyer? I walk around the expansive Habitat Center mercifully shaded by the blue open tile-work that is the signature of the grounds. I consult two men with Habitat IDs but they could not give me directions. It wasn't just the language gap, mind you, they honestly did not know where the Convention Foyer was! I came upon two elderly American ladies looking as lost as I was. I couldn't help them, they couldn't help me. We shook our heads in unison and wondered why there was no map. Wouldn't life be easier with a map? I am not looking for a map to life, just a map to the Center; it shouldn't be that difficult! After 10 minutes under 38 degree heat, I find the Convention Foyer at the exact place of Amit's last exhibit. In the absence of a map, why don't they just call it the usual place?

Our weekends always include an afternoon at the club. Rachel does her thing at the gym while David and I are at the squash court. On the way home, Rachel had a hankering for a smoothie. I finagled our schedule for the evening so that she and I could sneak away to Choco La for a smoothie. I made her a solemn promise that she will definitely have her smoothie.

David volunteered to cook dinner and after a trip to the vegetable wallah and the grocery store, we still needed the last few ingredients to get the meal together: red bell peppers, tomato sauce, olives, pickles, liver paste (I know this sounds like a horrid combination but trust me when I tell you that these things make for a sumptuous caldereta!). Before Rachel and I can sneak away, I must get those ingredients so that David can put dinner together.

Ambrose dropped David off at home.

Ambrose took us to Modern Bazaar at Basant Lok.

I got all the ingredients and sent Ambrose back home.

Ambrose came back to Basant Lok.

Finally, Rachel and I can sneak off for her smoothie. I ordered a mango passion fruit granita. Rachel ordered a kiwi and banana smoothie. "Sorry mam, but we have no bananas." So she settled for a mango and orange smoothie. In a few minutes the waiter returns. "Sorry mam, we only had one portion of mango and it was used in the granita. What about a strawberry smoothie?" Rachel hates strawberries. A smoothie was such a simple wish and yet, it wasn't simple after all. I suggested we make a smoothie at home. We'll need mangoes, orange juice, a banana, and yogurt. I assign Rachel to gather the ingredients at Modern Bazaar while I go to the chemist.

After a quick detour to the fruit wallah, we have all the makings of our mango smoothie plus a pineapple for the next day's juice. Home, Ambrose!

David was busily preparing dinner. I love to hear stories of how husbands prepare dinner. Imagine a kitchen with all the counters covered with something--a towel, a pot, a pan, a bowl, knives, plates, plastic bags, etc. And any counter that has nothing on it was splattered with either grease or salt or pepper! And the floor! Bits of cheese are all over the floor! "The cheese exploded!" David announces. "I just picked it up and it exploded in all directions! I've been slaving over a hot stove for hours!"

I was furious! I make dinner 5 nights a week and he never comes home to a kitchen disaster! Then realizing the futility of my frustration, I just gave him a wry smile. So, cooking dinner it is not as easy as it seems, does it? I came to his rescue and tried to organize the kitchen sink which was full of piled up plates and utensils. The water trickled out, literally trickled out!!! What else can go wrong? (By the way, the next day, Ambrose discovered that almost a teaspoon of little rocks was blocking the faucet spout. Go figure!)

I will admit to you that living is India has its perks in the way of the Ambroses and Meenus and sometimes even the Rajus. But it is the little inconveniences that can drive you mad! Why isn't anything as easy as it seems? Why do I wait 3 hours for the computer man, watch him figure out the problem for one and a half more hours only to announce to me that "yes, madam, I need to install the Bridge program" when that is exactly what I told him 6 hours ago? Why does our pressure pump need a slap every other week to make it work? Why does Rachel's air-conditioner only run on temperatures above 26? Why is the key to the balcony door so crooked that it needs manly force to turn it? Why does rain come in torrents inside my downstairs bathroom? Why do my dressing room lights go off after 5 minutes of use? Nothing comes easy!

So when you start to think that we here live a life of privilege and luxury, you are absolutely right. But remember that nothing here comes easy. Remember Sisyphus and his rock? Camus claims that when Sisyphus acknowledges the futility of his task and the certainty of his fate, he is freed to realize the absurdity of his situation and to reach a state of contented acceptance. That is where I want to be, in that state of contented acceptance. There, I feel much better now. I just had to tell someone!