A nautch lower

There was a marriage I got invited for. This guy was a sweet IT guy who left the firm to start his own business. A sweet guy. I was happy when he specially sent a card for me and spoke to me. Of course I would come for his wedding. In morning I was explaining to someone that it’s my philosophy that I typically go to these kid’s weddings. I don’t mind bunking a big expensive wedding but I would go for a small simple wedding. My colleague thought that was pretty cool of me – that I am not affected by status or something like that. I thought a bit and said – nopes. I think you are wrong. I am affected by status. Therefore I go to a wedding of the guy who may be of a lower status. So that I feel invited and special. In a big man’s wedding all are called. You are just some small fish.

But to be true to myself – I rather go where my presence means something to someone. I don’t like going for any weddings. They are a really boring chore.

Our servant since  seven years recently became a grandmother. She invited us to a ceremony a few weeks post the delivery. That day in the evening we completely forgot about it and realized only late at around 9 pm. Jasmine called her if we could come and she welcomed us. She stays in a hut under a bridge. We reached the settlement and her son was waiting for us. We were welcomed inside. It was a small tin room with a fan and almost nothing else. A gas stove in the side with a few vessels was the kitchen. A room made inside the shed was the privacy of the young couple. It felt nice to go. We were obviously the big guys coming in. as Devki (our servant) played with her gand daughter she said to her – look who’s come. Refereeing to Jispa  - she said – see your sister has come. You will go to her house an dplay and learn. She stays in the big buildings.

Clearly it was important for us to come. That is what is important when you attend functions. Is your presence a significant to the person inviting. So many times the invite is just for formality. They invite because it’s just a part of protocol. But when someone like the IT guy, who invited because he felt it would be nice for me to come, then I would love to go.

Coming back to Devki. I asked her a few days later – who else came from the buildings. She said only you guys came. The other lady is not like that. She won’t come. She then said sorry Devki. What sorry I ask. She didn’t want to come to the hutments. Jasmine and I looked at each other. Whew. Its good we remembered at the fag end of the day. Otherwise she would have kicked us as well.

Seeing a hutment where people live is always a bit humbling and I was happy that we took Jispa along. Then only can you get a sense of what privileges we have. We take a lot for granted and we as bankers have no idea what the people really want. Devki has the keys to our house. She comes in the evening, does the work and leaves. But crucially the keys to our house are also the keys to her bank. She keeps er money in a pouch in our house. She has kept a few of her jewelry also with us. She also has stored a few gifts of her grandchild. We are her bank and safe deposit locker. She takes loans from us, deposits and withdraws money and keeps valuables safe. When we think of what the people need what we realize that they need a simple place to keep things safe. Her stuff is not under lock and key and it’s not even worth breaking into my house for. It’s almost nothing to us but a lot for her. She has no use for an ATM or a cheque or working hours of a bank. All she needs is a key. But we give keys only to those people who don’t really need it.

Poverty is a curse and it inflicts itself again and again on people. These guys remain poor because of the system as also by the choices they make / forced to make. Just one statistic floored me. She says in the month or so after the birth of her grand child – she has ended up spending around 25 thousand bucks. Consider this to the fact that she did not have to spend any money on the birth, courtesy the government health service. And she spent around 7 grand on the function we were invited to. Seven grand on food/colas and other stuff. Crazy! That’s the money I told you want for you grand kid when she grows up and goes to school. Save it!

Poverty is a state of mind I guess. Something must have struck my grandfather when he was the only kid that decided to study and go beyond his village. He came to Mumbai and became a doctor. His dad was a humble grocer in a small village in Gujarat. He paved the way for prosperity for his generations to follow.  Moving out of the poverty trap is not just working hard, its also thinking hard. Devki works as hard as any one of us, but as she tells – when her son got married she blew a lot of money in the village on the function – including a nautch girl to dance. It seems including her payment and booze – it cost her 800 bucks. Now her relatives want her to come and organize another celebration. I am keen to go to her village and witness it first-hand. That would be another interesting subject for a travelogue.

 

har har gange

We are just back from a trip to the holy mountains. The Himalayas. To get to the Garwhal part of eth Himalayas we pass though our favourite town, Rishikesh. We don’t stay at Rishikesh proper but we stay close to Laxman Jhulla. That is as far as you can get from the proper town, but in the heart of the tourist circuit.
When you are there do visit the lovely Devraj coffee corner aka German bakery and have pizzas, pancakes, lemon mint tea and almond triangles. I got enough of the latter for office for people to wonder what on earth it was. It is some sweet almond paste on a pie crust. It’s quite amazing and tastes quite divine in contrary to its humble earthy name. Go ahead when you are in that part of the world.
But that is metaphorically divine, what we got that is really divine is ‘ganga jal’. Water from the sacred river – Ganga (ganges). We took bottles and filled them with water from the river. We got for the lady who comes home in the evening to help with the household chores. We had got one bottle for her the last time we were there and this time Jasmine insisted on getting one more. I really did not see the point but went along.
Yesterday after we arrived our lady; her name is Devki, was happy to see the Ganga jal. I asked her why would she need one bottle of it and how does she plan to use it?
She said that in her hut/slum colony (jhopadpatti) people keep coming to ask for a little Ganga jal. She asks them for a glass of water in which she mixes one capful of Ganga jal. That’s it. Only one capful. And she never lets anyone else touch the bottle. It is a precious resource not to be squandered away. But what is used for? Oh… people come all the time to her for it. When someone is dying, they make the person drink it so that the passage is smooth. Or when she is feeling unwell she mixes it with a glass full of water, or for other occasions. But yes it is a prized resource.
I felt bad getting only a bottle full. If I had known I would have ditched the almond tarts and gotten another bottle full.
Devki told us thatshe was illiterate and that she uses ganga jal for everything as that is what she has been told is good. She can’t read and hence she listens to what she has been told. I told her that while we read a lot we still are at the mercy of what people tell us. We also don’t know for sure. We also plainly do what is told. To my mind – what works for you is medicine and what doesn’t is not. I had a tonsil issue that refused to go away in my teens. Till I took a long homeopathy course. It worked enough for me never to get it back again in all its fury. Probably it was that or probably there were external factors at work. No one knows for sure, do they? Read this article on homeopathy by one blogger I follow regularly. http://girishshahane.blogspot.com/2010/06/which-is-witch.html. All I say is that standing face to face with Devki I am not prepared to say that she is wrong and that I am right.
Now I know why Jasmine made me fill two more bottles. One friend of ours has two servants and last time Jasmine got only one bottle. It had resulted in a near fight situation. It’s a good thing I listen to Jasmine. She obviously knows best.

we still shit

In our new house we got a very interesting servant ' devki' . This one is a loud mouth and would love to get into fights and arguments over nothing. I think her whole aim in life is to shout and talk loudly. Every time she has to tell my wife that ‘I am not supposed to wipe the vessels’, ‘I am not coming at night’, ‘why do you use large vessels for a small family’. She even talks to the vessels, ‘don’t fall’, ‘stay there’. She mumbles and grumbles all the time. But I think she’s kinda ok. I give this huge smile and she does not know how to react. I don’t think she expects people to smile at her. The other day she was forced to smile back. Haha.. she is, I think, not bad at heart. All you have to do is talk in a very calm tone and then she has to sober down…she is complete timepass.
The other day she ordered water for drinking from the workers (who were doing up the flat) next door. My wife asked her the reason. She said that many people in the building let her drink water only from the tap and not the filtered water. What the hell is that for??? Bloody bastards. My wife was also dam pissed. She told her that whenever she wanted she could have water from the water pot like us and that she could use any of the glasses that we use. She can make her own tea as well if required. I just can believe that this shit still happens in Mumbai and that too in decent localities. I guess this nonsense of treating people basis class will get more and more prevalent. Move over caste, its class that reigns supreme. But it just boils my blood every time I think of it. Separate glasses for servants I am ready to even concede but separate water! Bastards.

Another funny thing happened in the train while commuting. An old man in front of me suddenly decided that this is the best time for exercise. He started doing pull ups in the running train with the handles. Its fun to see him and even more to see the reaction of the fellow commuters. The first time he did it, people looked, but good mumbaikars are not prone to showing too much emotion or surprise. The second time no one even lifted their gaze. God knows what goes on in their minds. Are they busy thinking of their own problems, or are they just dismissing the man. hahhahah.

Here I clicked a couple of photos of the guy doing his thing. You decide.

here he is pulling himself on top. old man with a Nehru topi

Also notice the same man with his feet above the ground. notice the sports shoes and the Cargo pockets to go along with the Nehru topi and the safari'esque get up.