It is not fair!

Do you know this cartoon character? Calimero is a poor cute little black chicken who is nice with everyone but who thinks the world is against him. I like Calimero. And like any French person, I like to complain:  “That is not fair, I am ALWAYS the victim, it is not because I am small and weak that!”….

I had decided to take some action. Enough was enough. I decided to call the Hindu pantheon’s customer service center to bring up the matter.

I fiercely grabbed my phone and typed the number that Just Dial had sent me.

- Dear customer, we value your opinion. You call may be monitored from quality insurance purposes. If you are calling for a prayer, press 1. If you wish to send a virtual Prasad to your favorite god, press 2.

I had always hated these Voice Systems. I started biting my nails as I waited for the most suitable option.

- If you wish to speak to one of our gods’ representatives, press the # key.

Got it.

- Thank you for your call. Your time is important to us. Your estimated waiting time is 10 minutes.

I decided to take a deep breath: “Hold on, Anne! You are almost there!! Don’t give up so easily!”

So I waited, patiently eating all the chocolates from the box that was giving me company….

- ThanksforcallingHindupantheonscustomerservicecentermynameisrajhowcanIhelpyou?

I jumped, quickly trying to recall what I wanted to say. I needed to sound aggressive and determined.

- Oh yeah. Hi! My name is Anne and I am French. How shall I call you? God, Mister god? Buddy?

- I told you: mynameisraj. I am a representative.

- Ok. I’ve called to complain: Why can’t I enter the Padmanabhan temple in Trivandrum? WHYYYY?

- To enter the premises and be a little closer to the treasure, there are rules: you need to wear a sari if you are a lady and a lungi with bare chest if you are a man. You also need to be “non foreigner”.

- What is a non foreigner?

- A person who is Indian.

- How do you define “an Indian”?

- It is a person who looks Indian.

- So do you mean that a foreigner is a person who does not look Indian?

- Exactly

- So citizenship does not really matter here.

- No, you got it.

- If I summarize, you mean I have to wait outside the temple, babysitting the pram while my husband and my son are enjoying themselves inside while performing a tribal dance of my invention to avoid the hungry mosquitoes?

- Hmmm yes. You can also buy some nice banana chips. There are good in Kerala. Kerala is not called God’s own country for no reason.

- By the way, my son is French.

- I told you, citizenship does not matter.

- But that’s not fair!!! Sometimes people think I am Indian, just because I am married to an Indian man! They even frown with misunderstanding and disappointment when I tell them I am still very much French.

- But Beta, you don’t look Indian. You cannot enter the temple. Period.

By that time, I had lost my patience. God or no god, they were going to experience the famous French cribbing superpowers. I breathed hard, mentally keeping a picture of Calimero, my idol.

- But that is not fair!!!

- …

- This rule is stupid! And I am going to prove it. Can my Canadian neighbor enter the temple?

- If he looks Indian, yes.

- Yes, he does. Both his parents were born in India. He knows less Hindi than me though.

- That does not matter, Beta.

- DON'T BETA ME, PLEASE! Do you know what beta means in French? It means “stupid”!

- Sorry Beta. We have to call people “Beta”, Everyone is a Beta of God!

- Tell me something.

- Something

God, they are even trying to be funny!

- Don’t you dare using that joke on me! I practically invented it.

- Sorry. We are told different techniques to deliver our message.

- t’s ok. So, do you think a Pakistani look Indian?

- Yes, of course, Beta! You know, right, that Pakistan and India were one united country before 1947.

- Hum, yes. So, you would grant the permission to enter the temple to a Pakistani?

- God, no!! He is not Indian!...... ARGH!!!

The phone suddenly went blank.

Haha! I stood and start an enthusiastic winning dance. Haha, Mynameisraj, don’t you want to tell another joke to your Beta? You lost your God coolness? I tell you: good for you!

But the small feeling of guilt I experienced during the entire call was becoming unbearably overwhelming. Did I go too far with the God’s representative? Did I cross the limit? Who was I, little creature, to question God’s rules?

I started searching for my water bottle in my bag, trying to regain composure. Then I felt a plastic bag: the banana chips I bought in Kerala while waiting outside the temple! I smiled while opening the packet. Oh God! Mynameisraj was right. These golden chips are like heaven: there are the hidden treasures of Trivandrum! Maybe God did not allow me in his temple, but he definitely put a little bit of himself in these chips. 

Later on, I called back the customer service center and left an apology on their prayer voice mail. I hope mynameisraj got it. If not, I am sure that God heard me and will forgive the stubborn French girl cum Calimero I am.

The box guys who think outside the box

"Anne, I want to see the wabamata. They were showing a documentary the other day on TV. You know, it is fascinating!"

Last time my mum told me about something fascinating shown on TV, it was about the octopus: "Did you know? The octopuses are very smart creatures", she nodded convincingly. I had stop all activities and burst in laughter.

You have to understand that octopus is said "poulpe" in French. And somehow, the phrase "Le poulpe est un animal tres intelligent" has a huge comical potential.

It had been a torture to listen to my mum without giggling hysterically while she was describing half laughing, half serious, the remarkable feats of the octopuses.

"The wabamata?" I repeated stupidly.

"Yes, you know, these people who deliver the lunch boxes across Mumbai!"

Please, be lenient. The word "dabbawallah" is quite complicated for any non Indian to remember.

After all these years in India, I had kind of forgotten the fascination of westerners for dabbawallahs. But it is true, what they are able to achieve is quite impressive. Picking up and delivering lunch boxes without fail and on time to hundreds of thousand people, even during the heavy rains, is a great accomplishment for these mostly illiterate people.

It is also said that some great American business schools come to India to study this miracle of supply chain and logistic. The industry is more than 125 years old during. Over these years, a simple although very efficient coding has been developed, that guarantees the quality of service.

But like a sport even, watching the dabbawallahs in action is always better on TV. You need the big picture, you need to step back to appreciate the beauty of the movement.

I had remembered the documentary that my mum was referring to. It was really nice to follow them throughout their journey. I had flash back memories of two parts of the documentary.

Though the entire movie was from the dabbawallah's perspective, this scene was taking place in an Indian kitchen in the morning. The wife of one dabba's recipient was cursing the dabbawallah who was impatiently waiting outside for her to finish cooking the priceless "Ghar ka khanna". She could not bear hurrying up: "He can wait four or five minutes". These five minutes were precious for our guy and any additional delay may jeopardize their punctuality.

The second scene was taking place in a local train station. Two dabbawallahs were carrying a huge platter of dabbas on their heads and were trying to enter an overcrowded train to reach their destination on time. Some people do have a tough job.

When you meet a dabbawallah on his cycle proudly wearing a Gandhi cap, carrying five lunch boxes, it is very easy to forget the well oiled and remarkable organization behind the man. So today, let me be western and impressed: Well done, box guys!

 

India, homeland of the greatest yogis

Obvious, isn't it? It is hardly a cliché: yoga is part of Indian culture.

From the foreigner tourists eager to stretch their pale bodies on Kerala beaches, to the urban middle aged professional trying to lower their stress level, to the greatest yoga gurus able to fast for hundreds of days and bend their bodies in the most unlikely poses, every yogi, whether they are experts or not, aim at reaching the famous nirvana.

And everyone is looking for an example to follow, a guide, a guru.

Dear reader, I will spare you the challenges of looking for the perfect yogi. I found it. You may not believe it, you may irritably roll your eyes, you may even laugh at me, but the truth is the truth. And haven't you learned that you should always look behind initial appearances? See? There you go.

After loads of research and endless hours of observation, I can guarantee you that you will not find a better yogi than the Indian stray dog. Yes, yes, you read it correctly.

OK, I admit: in the mammal category, the cow is also a great challenger, nonchalantly wandering on the busy streets of Indian cities. But to be fair, it is largely inherent to its quality of sacred animal: she is the queen of the road and every other moving vehicle or animal has to give way to her majesty. Sorry, but for me, it is cheating.

You still doubt my theory? No problem, I am more than happy to prove it to you.

Let us define what makes a great yogi.

First: Ability to master the intricate yoga poses. Well, easy: why do you think one of them was named after our hero? Yes, yes, you know what I am talking about: the famous downward facing dog!!!

Second: Developing a deep passion for chanting mantras in group. I discovered that one during the many times my son woke up in the early hours of the day. Have you never heard a pack of hounds barking and howling at 4am? It is not kneejerk animal behavior; it is a complex series of very powerful mantras, able to seduce all their other doggy friends.

Third: Be truly happy, despite all circumstances. It is true; it is not easy to be a stray dog. You don't have a home; you have to hunt for food everyday. But these yogi masters teach us a great lesson of life: they are always happy, rhythmically wagging their tails. Their faith in humanity is indestructible. They will always come to you, you stranger, with the affectionate hope that you will be a great companion.

Last and not least: Achieve nirvana. Have you observed a dog casually ying down on Bombay roads? It is perfectly still, nothing can disrupt its inner peace: not the busiest traffic of the world, nor the fierce honking of the angry taxi driver unsuccessfully trying to flush it out of the way, nor the scariest trucks. If you observe closer, the dog does not flicker. It looks dead and inarticulate for its body performs yet another supreme yoga pose.

That, my friend, is the last stage of nirvana that only a few creatures in this world are able to achieve.

The next time you see a stray dog, don't despite it. But watch. Watch and learn, my friend.

Google group: the most happening place for bar-room discussions

My residential complex benefits from a very nice community. And technology is great to unite these beautiful people, especially through a Google group.

This virtual group is a great tool to share useful information (from the number of a nearby doctor to the contact of the fish delivery guy), to post some classified ("help! I move out and I need to sale this furniture), to get household help, to propose new activities (writing group, toddler football class, etc.) or to advertise on the next exhibition cum sale.

No, really, it is great and I carefully browse through the dozens of emails sent everyday by members.

But there are two things I really enjoy in the google group.

The first one inadvertently comes from the people who are not technology savvy. It is quite annoying, but I cannot help but quietly laugh at these people. First, you have to understand that when you reply to an email sent on the group, every member gets your answer, unless you carefully make sure to reply only to the sender.

Ok, let me give you an example.

Email

"Hi everyone, I would like to start an aerobic class for ladies. The coach is great: she helped Karina Kapoor get back in shape! Please let me know if you are interested (we need at least 10 people) and when you would like the class to be held. Bye, Zara.

Reply 1:

"Hi Zara, yes, sounds great! Count me in"

Reply 2:

"Yep, am also in. Anytime from 5 to 9 pm"

Reply 3:

"Hi Zara, it was nice to see you the other day. Let's catch up for lunch! Come over to my place. Love, Sana"

Reply 4:

"Great, I love da areobic. am freez mon, tue, wed, 10-11 am.Cu" (sic!)

Reply 5:

"Hi everyone, Zara again, please reply to me only"

Reply 6:

"Count me in"

Reply 7:

"Me too"

Reply 8:

"am in"

Reply 9:

"Guys, STOP SPAMMING US AND REPLY TO SENDER ONLY"

Reply 10:

"am in"

Reply 50:

"F***, REPLY TO SENDER ONLY"

.....

I especially relish the replies of the angry people who are getting spammed, but are thus ironically spamming every one. But I do pity the organizer. You need so much energy to please the maximum to discover the following week that only two people have turned up at the class.

The second one I savor is the old chestnuts that haunt us every two three months. These are usually things that agitate a dozen of angry people, disturb a few offering solutions, annoy the majority of indifferent readers trying to navigate through the tsunami of spams, and eventually hibernate till the next burst out. My favorite topic is the clothes hanging from balconies.

As per the building rule, people are not supposed to hang out clothes to dry from the balcony railing. Any rule being made to be violated, a happy few dare to expose their clothes for various and sometimes very valid reasons.

Our angry resident keeps quiet for some time, silently teething, observing the criminals, sometimes taking pictures, bitterly comparing his beautiful and prime residence with the Indian chawls. The more colorful the clothes are, the angrier he gets.... until he cannot bare it anymore.... For therapy purposes, he has to speak, he has to scream!!!!

How dare you, you little insect, not educated or well behaved enough to go by the greatest standards of living that we all maintain? How can you shamelessly entertain us with the view of your flashy saris, your shabby underwear and your old fashion shirts? I refuse to witness the pettiness of your existence! Behave and hide your wardrobe behind your four walls, like the top class people we all are here! You little people...

Our helping guy tries to rationalize the problem, arguing that, yes, it is difficult, especially during the monsoon, not every house has a drying area, but, eh, that's life, these are the rules and let's try to do our best for the sake of our great community, ok, guys?

But, that does not satisfy the uptight guy, seeking revenge: We need to complain once more to the facility management! We have already pointed them sooooo many times, but nothing is done. This time, enough is enough! This has to cease immediately. We cannot, I insist, cannot tolerate that ANYMORE!!!!!!

I will spare you with the dozens of angry and colorful emails that are exchanged. I get slightly annoyed reading those, a little guilty also (erm, you really want to know why?) and definitely outraged by the harshness of certain comments.

But suddenly, the flow stops. It is quiet again, the storm is gone. Our days are only punctuated by harmless and innocent classified emails. You don't know why. The problem is still there, but people are tired discussing it, until the next time. A time that I am secretly looking forward to!