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!

 

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!