This blog has been very clear that one must strike a balance with India. She can sometimes be a soft breath of wind that is infused with jasmine. Other times she can be a blue demoniac with a crazed look of vengeance in her eyes. She can attack you with her multiple arms.
We spent a relatively private weekend enjoying the celebration of our 17th anniversary.
Then came this Monday.
It started when Subu almost got in a fender bender with another car. He slammed on his breaks and Tara slammed into the chair in front of her. There was some disagreement on the actual nature of the incident, and Subu and the other driver got out and yelled a bit.
A small crowd formed around the car, onlookers.
A police officer came by and told them to move their cars off to the side of the street. Not that he was there to help control the situation or anything.....
To ensure Subu didn't run off while he moved the car, the other driver got in the passenger seat of our car, in front of where Tara was sitting. Uncomfortable.
They pulled off to the side.
Continued to argue. It didn't end with any agreement about what had happened (the other car's fender looked immaculate), but the other driver was not satisfied. He took a rock and scraped it all over the fender of our car.
In America, at this phase of an argument either fists or guns would have come out. But these guys did not come to blows. After the rock scraping, they simply got in their respective cars and went on their way.
THEN....
We don't have air conditioning in our downstairs. We didn't think to make it a requirement when we moved in. It is but one of many lessons that reiterates you have to use your advantage to get something in India, counting on the goodwill of another does not always work.
We asked for it about a month ago. Landlord said yes. He delayed for a month. We are leaving in two months, an interval which seems to transform Indian landlords into bastards. On Monday he had his guy call up Tara (the landlord himself never calls) and tell us we weren't getting air conditioning. She gave him a colorful earful of expletives.
It was 114 the other day.
THEN....
The maid doesn't show up in the afternoon. With three kids and loads of friends running in and out of our house daily, we like it when she does a small cleaning toward the end of the day.
We knew the routine.... she would come in tomorrow and say she was sick. Ask whey she didn't call, she reminds us she doesn't have a cell phone. We remind her that her husband does, she claims he is back in their village. If the questioning continues, there is ultimately a reference to a dead relative of some type or other, which shuts the conversation down.
Whatever.
By the way, she and I spoke and everything followed this sequence this morning. Except the death excuse.
THEN....
Our beloved, but ultimately street-born, dog snuck in the kitchen and dragged the sumptuous vegetable lasagna off the counter where it was cooling and smashed it all over the floor.
When I came home after hearing all of this, I knew I would have one of two Taras. It was either going to be the Tara that is like a cornered wildcat, ready to rip things to shreds. Or the Tara that is so exasperated that she is prone to laughing about the situation gone awry.
I dodged a bullet and got the latter, not the former.
I liked her quote the best - "I think India must be done with me. It has chewed me up, now it seems to be spitting me out."
She slept for 10 hours.
