The bug in the Apple

The balding, white haired old man came and said “Hi! Didi”, I woke up from this nightmare with a jump. (You see, I think of myself as an eternal twenty one year old and this person referring to me as an older sister is like a nightmare!). Anyway I was now half awake; I opened the flap of my cell phone to check the time. It was one A.M. in the morning; it was all silent outside; the Ganesh Visarjan was either over or was too far away for us to hear the drums and songs.

I then noticed that my TT* was missing from the bed. I know she is not the kind who would stay up so late to study. I tumbled out of bed and padded barefoot to the living room to see madam sitting at the table with the mac opened and her I phone attached to it like a patient on life support! There were plenty of wires, all trailing over the table, chair and floor. Before I continue I must tell you what happened earlier in the night…….

The 18^th of September was D day for my little Apple Fan! You see the new iOS7 was going to be released that day. From the morning itself, I had heard it almost a hundred times as to what an exciting day it was going to be. Though I tried to muster up the same enthusiasm I failed miserably! For once the bitten Apple fan did not notice my failure and she enumerated the many advantages of the new Operating System. There was a test at school but the only thing on her mind was the great OS! I wasn't expecting any great results in the test.

The ETA was 10 o’clock India time. Thankfully we had finished our dinner by then and most of the homework had been completed. The elder sister was trying to tutor her in math; of course the mind not being there, the inevitable argument ensued and both of them went their own way (the final outcome of all disagreements!)

“Oh My God! Oh My God!”

The scream that announced this was obviously to be noted and we both looked up to see an excited TT…

“It’s come, it’s come!”

It sounded as if “It’s a boy” by the nurse outside the delivery room!

“It’s installing, OMG! it started” all the while jumping around the room in excitement. For a moment I forgot she was sixteen- she seemed about five years old.

Older sister rolled her eyes and we both looked at each other and smiled indulgently.

We got busy with our nightly routine. She continued sitting at the table …..

At 11.30, I realized that she was nowhere near the bed and I asked her why she wasn’t coming.

There was frustration writ large on her face, “it didn’t install correctly, there is an error, and I have to do it again!”

Feeling sorry for her I left her to her devices and went to bed.

Coming back to my 1 A.M. sojourn……..

“Why aren't you in bed? Don’t you have school?” I mumbled half asleep.

“Oh! Ma! It’s installing; should get over in fifteen minutes; will come to bed after that...”

Too sleepy to argue I went back to sleep.

The alarm woke me up at six o’clock and what do I see??????

The bitten apple fan on the bed looking at her i-phone with stars in her eyes!

“It’s done, it’s done”, she whispered loudly as soon as she realized I was awake.

This followed a whole lot of “sort of” technical details and extolling of the virtues of the new OS! I was made to look at the new interface and the different colours and even Siri’s new human voice! Bleary eyed and with a muddled mind I absorbed all this to the best of my ability and got out of my bed totally apple blasted!

From that moment till she left for school it was …

“Have you seen how this looks?”

“Have you seen how smoothly this moves?”

“Isn't this so much classier?”

As soon as I was fully awake I tried to dampen her a little by being wicked…

“Android already has this”

But no effect!

She went and updated my i-pad during this time and tried to update the elder sister’s too (It was being done when the bus arrived so she was not successful!)

As she constantly whatsapps during her bus ride, she sent one message to her father that he must update his i pad, complete with instructions in bold letters (in case he couldn't “hear” her!).

Her dad was amused at her enthusiasm and went on to update his tablet.

The evening after school, of course continued in this vein and I was deluged with repeat information about the GREAT OS! (She had forgotten that she had told me all and shown me all, in the early morning!)

The excitement continues even as I am writing this. The worm in the apple has not only bitten my little one….. My sister –in –law has already sent instruction to her brother that he must update his tablet, hence his amusement at the two ladies in the family going a little wonky at the birth of the i-OS 7!

Speedy Encounter!

After deliberating whether to walk to the post office or take an auto, we left the house without deciding. We hadn't even walked a few steps when one little yellow and black auto swished seductively by us. I couldn't help but put out a hand and before I realized we were sitting inside and I was directing the driver to take us to our destination. Alas! That I have no will power……

We stepped down at the Post office- a building at least sixty years old. It was neat and clean (Whitewashed sans the paan stains that you normally see government buildings decorated with!). The counters were old wooden windows which were strategically placed all round one huge hall.

We went and joined the long queue at the first counter. I stood and peered at the board (It was printed quite clearly for a change!) to check whether it was for the speed post. Not finding it on the list, I asked the gentleman in front of us where to go for sending a mail through speed post. Mumbai is filled with helpful people and this man was no exception, he at once pointed to the next window and we nonchalantly walked towards it. I bent down (the windows were at a level built sixty years ago) to talk to the lady sitting decked up in a glittering sari. She replied to my query with a silent gesture that it was the next window.

At last we reached our destination! The line was relatively short. We were the third in the line and I could easily read the board and number three on the board was “Speed Post”. I breathed a sigh of relief and settled down to wait for our turn. I was confident it would take a maximum of ten minutes. In between a smart young lady peeped in at the counter; I glared at her thinking she was cutting into the line. She noticed it and tried to explain that she needed some trivial thing. I thought to myself, “All of us are waiting for trivial things anyway so you better stick to the line!”

The first one in the line was off, I shifted my weight to the other leg and then decided I would let Chiqui stand in the line and I would go and get the inland letters and envelopes meanwhile. While leaving the line I asked her whether she had enough money, she nodded her head. I traipsed back to the second window to ask the queenly lady where I could get them (Incidentally that was the only window without a line!) She nodded her head; assuming that she would give them to me I told her,

 “Please give me ten inland letters and ten envelopes”

Mutely she nodded again; opened a tin-rust laden box and started rummaging in it. She took out a sheaf of blue papers and counted them once, then counted them for a second time after licking her fingers (Ewee!). She put it on the ledge, and went back to rummaging in the box for at least two minutes. Triumphantly she took out a sheaf of white envelopes and proceeded to count them. I thought I would prevent her from licking her fingers so I counted along with her, it was eight.

“There are only eight” I said (remember all the time I am bending down so that I could see her face!)

She ignored me; moistened her fingers and counted again. I closed my eyes (I am such an ostrich sometimes!)

“There are only eight” she parroted.

I could have thrown my purse at her in frustration but all I said,

“That’s all right I will take it” and put forward a hundred rupee note towards her.

She took it in slow motion and put it up to look through the light streaming in. Nobody, I mean nobody, checks hundred rupee notes anymore! Five hundred- I can understand but one hundred! (Seriously with a dollar crossing sixty four rupees!). Continuing in slow motion she took out her change box and gave me my change. Sigh! One work done; I was confident the other work would be done too.

Twirling on my toes I turned to look at the window next to me. Chiqui was now number two in the line! Here I had taken at least ten minutes and she still hadn't reached the man! The man in front of her was bent and talking with the man behind the counter. I raised my eyebrows at Chiqui and she shrugged. I stood behind her and started reading the board:-

1.     Electricity bill (Tata) – 9 to 1 (This was written by hand with a pen)

2.     Gas bill – 9 to 1

3.     Speed Post

4.     MTNL phone bill – 9 to 1

5.     Etc etc etc…

Separate Q for senior citizens (Hand written in pen again!)

One elderly man was also waiting beside the man in front. The counter- man whose mouth was filled with something gestured to him and did some paperwork for him. The elderly man went off.

I had already moved restlessly twice hence the following conversation

Chiqui: Ma why don’t you take a round of the post office?

Me: No!

I bent down and peered,

Counter man: “hey Fernandez!  Get me those papers” (It was a miracle I could hear him)

There ensued a conversation between him and the unseen Fernandez, following this a fat sheaf of printing papers appeared. He tore out three leaves and put it in the printer. He then took out a scanner and scanned one envelope and then another and another… endless.

Me: He is doing yesterday’s work now!

Chiqui: Go round the building at least once (pleadingly)

By now there was a huge queue behind us. The smart lady had come back and was giving sympathetic smiles to me and peering at the counter man.

I left the line and stood waiting at the place where a senior citizen should be as there was no one there. I was contemplating whether to take Chiqui’s advice and go for a stroll when a gentleman with a white beard and black hair stood behind me with an envelope.

“Do we need to put stamps on this?” he asked ,thrusting an addressed envelope under my nose.

I shrugged, “No Idea!” (I am not a helpful Mumbaikar!)

He essayed again, “You are standing in the senior citizen line?”

I hurriedly left the line and he promptly stood there (I am sure he wasn't a senior citizen, the rascal!).

Well to cut a long story short I went for a walk round the building and landed up next to a window through which I could see what the counterman was doing behind the counter!

He was still scanning a pile of envelopes, all of different sizes. He took one, fed in the address in the computer, stuck the speed post sticker, scanned it…..

I stood there watching him go through this exercise again and again. Feeling frustrated, restless and imprisoned! At last, he took the envelopes from the man in front of Chiqui and duly went through the ritual. I walked back to the counter.

The black and white guy thrust his envelope before Chiqui had time to react! I could have whacked the fraud!

Finally it was our turn and it took exactly three minutes to complete the exercise and can you believe it …..

Chiqui: Thank you

I rolled my eyes heaven wards.

After the advent of the internet and e-mails the post office was having a bad time making any profits. The government thus brought in a lot of other activities into the postal fold so that so many employees would not lose their jobs. But like all other government departments they will not put in an inch of extra effort to fulfill their duties. It is as if by paying tax to maintain them, they are doing us a favour!

All of us in the single line had lost at least an hour of precious time for a work that needs a maximum of ten minutes.

Isn't it time that our rulers sat up and streamlined the departments at the grass root level before moaning about the devaluation of the rupee or the selfishness of the NRIs or brain drain for that matter!  

Social Etiquettes

“Hi Darling!”“Muah! Muah!” followed by a perfunctory hug and air kisses, (spreading lots of germs in the air!).

 This was not a typical society bash where it is more or less the norm to see such examples of exhibiting hypocritical affection. This was the open house of a high school!

Being an “old” mother (this was my second child) I always went to such get- togethers to show my face to the teachers, try and wrest some information (Hopefully good ones) from them, (Believe me it’s tough!) and maybe meet a few parents with whom I share the common denominator of having a child in the same grade.

I had done half the rounds by this moment; had walked four floors up and down twice; was taking my breath, having coffee and snacks which the school so thoughtfully provide us with. I had a ten minutes break before my next appointment.

I had just come in a year ago to the city and I knew that my child would pass out in a year more, so the real enthusiasm was lacking. I didn't know many of the parents (though I smiled at everyone!). My socializing at the parent’s get- together had made me friends with the younger ones whose children were in the lower grade so I knew them well but didn't know the older ones very well.

The faces were familiar though… So one of the enthusiastic parents came over and said, “Have you met Sandy?”

I looked up expecting to see an expat, when I saw a nice plump Indian in a tight black frock; a seven inch heel; a pair of danglers swinging fiercely and hair set in curls looking at me expectantly, I was a little dazzled!

I had noticed her in some of the meetings and had seen her go and hug some of the teachers. I am a strict “hand shaker” greeter so though I was surprised, I assumed she must know them well enough for the society greeting!

“Hi” I said, extending my hand towards her.

I was first given a thorough look over (dressed in jeans and a shirt with low heels- I was no society beauty!) Then a limp hand was offered for a hand shake...

“Oh Hi!” Sandy screeched

After I introduced myself, my friend went on gushing over her

“You know? You must get to know Sandy. She knows everybody here; if she doesn't know someone then they are not worth knowing”

That put me in my place squarely!

I said, “I didn't get your name”

A tinkle of laughter followed, “Well I am Sandhya Agarwal” (pronounced as Sandya Eggwal!). “I am Sandy’s mother”

I was flummoxed! Bothe mother and daughter with the same name?

“Is your daughter’s name also Sandhya?” I asked

“Oh no, no, no!” she intoned while her danglers jingled merrily, “My son’s name is Sandeep” (pronounced as Sandep!) “Where are you from?” she drawled.

“From India” I said shortly

She tinkled again, “I mean where did you shift from, the USA?”

Fortunately another skin clad, diamond clad parent appeared and the Muah muah routine began so I was able to slip away.

She caught me at the next break!

“I know your daughter” (pronounced daughta!). I felt a draught hit me!

“How nice” I lamely remarked

“I know everyone, I have been subbing* in school, you know”

“How nice” I parroted

“Yeah, but not this year, I am going to the USA” she said importantly with a curl of the lips. “My sister lives in Boston?”

“Hi Sandy!” another butterfly flitted close to us this was  followed by the 

“Ritual”.

“How was your sale?”

“Darling” she protested, “An exhibition, not a sale”

Abashed the butterfly decided she had made a faux pa and started sidling away.

I was back again in the glare, and I squirmed. There was still another five minutes left.

“I design jewelry” (pronounced joolery!)

“Oh”

“I sold out, you know!”

Bewildered I looked at her.

“My joolery exhibition” she gently reminded me.

“That’s great”, I put in a lot of admiration in my voice.

“Would you like to look at some?” quickly before I could disappear she fished out a visiting card and gave it me. “Give me a tinkle; I will organize a private exhibition for you. Get your friends and relatives too” she cooed.

I escaped to the next meeting. Thankfully her son was not taking that subject so I was spared another exhibition.

While walking back, I met one of my young friends and she asked me about Sandy with a smirk on her face.

I was surprised; I wondered how she knew that I had met her.

“Well, Sandy pointed you out to me and asked me who you were”

“So?”

“I told her that you were very rich; eccentric and asocial, that she should not be taken in by your simple attire, as everything you wore never cost less than 3000 $”

“Oh my God!”

That explained her interest in me and her zooming in to me whenever she found me alone!

In these multicultural events, I find the Japanese the most dignified. It is a pleasure to watch them. They have adopted the western attire in such a way that it suits them and they are never embarrassed about their accent or try to put up one. There are quite a few Indians who are also as elegant but a single Sandy can destroy the grace and dignity built up by them.

I walked up to my car and opened it.

“Hello”

I looked up startled

“No Driver?” Sandy cooed

“No” I smiled, “I like driving”

“Anytime you need one, tell me, I will arrange one”

“Thanks”

“May I have your number?”

I gave it to her reluctantly and wondered how much she would badger me if I had given her the right one!

*Substitute teacher