Guests at my home!!

beach

Editor's Note: This post has been promoted to an article. You can read it in its entirety by clicking here.

LuAnnandJawahar

Thanks beach. I love the sounds of/from/around an Indian home in the mornings especially. It's like music.

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steven_ber

A great read beach.

Your writing is so good that it puts me off doing a travelogue of my trip to Assam.

You would be top of the class in writing school; I would have been expelled months ago.

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How to get helpful replies to your transport/Itinerary questions.


Train information.


RAC & Waitlists explained.

freemanx

hi beach,

you are really giving us great insight views.
thanks.

beach

I missed boys who come and plead to get the cricket ball back from mom. No, it’s theirs. It has come to our house through the windows after breaking the glass panel. “This is the last time aunty” –I’ve heard them telling this at least four times this year. So are all the neighbors.


I missed the post man who has to answer to the whole neighborhood whey people are not sending them mails!


I missed the ice-cream seller come in the night (10pm!) to sell vanilla & mango ice-cream.


I missed the scrap paper buyer who exchanges ‘useful’ articles in lea of old newspapers.


And there are many more expected and unexpected kind of people knock at the door. If I start commenting about them all, it would practically become a who is who in the whole area!

mdchachi

Excellent story, thanks.

Why not pre-pay her? Give her a weeks worth up front. Try that out on mom and see what she thinks.

sudheer poppa

I live in India, but my life seems soo boring....

Get out of the bed between 4am and 10am depending on my mental drive. If newspaper has come read it for 15 mins and another 20 minutes for the basic duties. Off to work. Breakfast, lunch and Dinner at work. Back at home between 6pm and 2am - Hit the sack.

Purposeless existence and thoughtless mumblings......

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When my life changed over a week

AllanM

Ahh, the daily drudge is the same world over...

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Me fail English? That's unpossible!--Ralph Wiggum

beach

This is not a guest story. Since it resembles close to a theme of my first post, I thought of posting it at this thread. This depicts a shopping we had sometimes back.

To give an idea of what I’m explaining, we treat ourselves as a family oscillates between middleclass and upper middle class social strata!

It has been a thrill to go with mom for shopping since when I was a little kid, except for those occasional “don’t touch this, don’t touch that” warnings. Many years have passed and I slowly started realizing that it is now more embarrassing than thrilling to do shopping with her!

I’m not sure if her character has changed over time or my way of looking at things has changed. Probably she would’ve been acting the came way at those times also. I might not have felt it on those days. Or is it that I would also become like her when I reach her age? I do not know.

She has her own theories on what to buy and from where to buy. She treats the supermarkets as a less challenging ‘hunting’ ground. And feels a shopping is not complete without a good level of haggling. In supermarkets the prices are labeled and there is no scope for any encounter.

She wants to chase price like animals and shoot down to demonstrate her bargaining skills. Goods at the supermarket shelves according to her are like tied down animals! There is no point in shooting at them. She is hungry for moving targets!

But she has her own way to create a challenge out of nothing. At the supermarket she lifts two different ATTA bags (wheat flower) and asks the sales girl which one is ‘good’ and why!

How can that poor girl know which one is good?

“Both are good” is the typical answer.

“Then why is the price difference of five rupees!??”

The girl is puzzled. She looks at me with a helpless grin. I’m embarrassed and try to pull mom out from there. We settle for one type and say that the other type we would try next time.

On a practical front we buy groceries from the supermarket and vegetables from the local small vegetable vendors. According to her the vegetables at the supermarkets are not all that fresh or frozen. We do not like them both.

From the supermarket we moves to the nearby vegetable bazaar. She tells me that she wants buy some cabbage.

We reach a vegetables seller with all sorts of vegetables in big bamboo baskets.

She lifts a huge leafy cauliflower and asks him “kithna hai?” (How much?)

“bees rupaya madam” (twenty rupees ) the man says with enthusiasm.

No, she has not changed her mind. She still wants only cabbage. She just tests the water by asking the price for some unwanted thing! She does a test negotiation for the cauliflower with him. That is her first weapon. She judges the vendor in this process and weighs him.

Now she comes to the cabbage.

“vo kithna hai?” (how much is for that?) she asks pointing at the cabbages

“dus rupaya kilo” (ten rupee for kilo) the man replies.

Fresh hai or kya?? (Is it fresh?) her next question.

I wonder how in the whole world a vegetable seller is expected to say what he is selling is not all that fresh!

Che kilo ke liye? (How much is for six kilo?)

What is she up to? Is she going to feed us cabbage for breakfast, lunch and dinner?
No. She is just trying to know if this man can offer a better price.

I remember the other day she gave a big lecture to him on why she buys vegetables only in small quantities. She said she hate stockpiling vegetables in fridge as it loses the freshness with time.

The man says sixty rupees as a matter of fact. If he says a lesser price, she would insist that price for a smaller quantity. This man seems to know that trick.

And finally she asks for a kilo. The man searches for a right sized cabbage and finds one at the end. He weighs it and says

“Madam this one weighs 1 ½ kg, is it OK?”

“No you cut it and give me only one kilo!”

This is her trick to arm twist this poor vendor. She knows well that this man would prefer to sell off the whole cabbage than to cut and sell in pieces. Also she knows that cabbages are either more than one kilo or less than that, and never weights the exact one kilo!

The man stumbles a bit.

“cut karo” (cut it) there was a shrill in her voice.

The man takes a blade. Positions the cabbage and makes a final look at her with a quizzical expression. If he shows desperation and says that he would prefer to the sell as whole cabbage, he knows it would strengthen her bargaining position.

He almost made a small incision on the cabbage and asked, “Shall I cut it?” This time the vendor is bold and decisive. He knows that mom will buy it full.

He has a PhD degree in Cognitive psychology form the Street Side University! He has seen thousands upon thousands of ladies like her with all the tricks.

For me it looked like a game of nerves. Both have the same hidden agenda- they both wants to sell/buy the whole piece at ‘competitive’ price!

“OK, How much?”

“Fifteen rupees” says the vendor

“No, I’ll pay only twelve rupees ”

“Ok, last price…. fourteen rupees” he says.

“Thirteen. Or else you cut and give me only one kg”

The man agrees saying that why to quarrel for a few rupees! Mom saves two rupees!!

Then she asks me to pay him (Yes. I’m the venture capitalist for all these dramas!). I give him a twenty rupee note.

He searches in the cashbox and declares, “change nahi hai” (no change).

Oh. Yes, we all know this disease very well. He wants us to buy some more vegetables from him for the balance amount!

Mom knows well to treat this syndrome. She simply pulls out the cabbage and keeps it back on the heap. The man gets the message and searches again in the cashbox. Change appears in the cashbox miraculously!

She takes back the cabbage and collects the change with a grin.

She feels triumphant and me feels embarrassed over saving two rupees!

volga_volga

beach, i love this metaphore. it will remain forever in my memory together with "grammatical mistake" and "left out"

your Mum should have been teaching my Negotiation class! where i've done poorly, in the lower quartile... but i haven't been to India then

thanks!

DianeN.

You have such a talent for writing! I hope to read all your stories in book form one day.

Nick-H

Nice to rediscover this thread. Thanks Beach.

MeCasa

You have a good atitude, life is never dull if you find humor in everyday circumstances.

Life is way too short, so you might as well enjoy


Bonnie Raitt - Angel From Montgomery

shanthi

What a joy to read your stuff beach - keep it up! I was in the house with you when each of these people came to visit - that's how good you are. Gentle, amusing, witty and nice

Nick-H

I was back in Chennai listening to that bloody dog across the road welcoming each and every one of these people with its frenetic yapping!

I need to learn a bit more of the language/acquire a bit more confidence before I start buying my veg etc at the door, although I do get my paper delivered and my ironing done ---and I am made to understand by the ironing lady that she has been three times with my finished ironing and I wasn't there! Even though she speaks no English.

The Dog's favourite visitor is the Tender Coconut man. Probably because they give him (the dog, whom I call Wiff-Woof, for fairly obvious reasons) a husk to chew on. At first sight or sound, he will start up: "Wiff! Wiff Wiff! Wiff, Wiff, Woof!")

Mrs Wiff-Woof (the elder) loves her tender coconut, so will drink the couple taken up to her, then send the man back for more, standing on her balcony to express approval, or otherwise, of the specimens he shows her from his bicycle-cart. Every time the man ascends the steps, Wiff-Woof's barking becomes faster, louder and more furious (or, perhaps delighted; it's hard to tell) and continues while the man cuts open the nuts.

All this can take up to 20 minutes, and the silence when it stops is wonderful. Then the vegetable man arrives!

It's one of the few nice things about being here in London: no whiff-Woof!