The Beginning

I am up at dawn. Prayers from the local mosque sounds loud and clear. I switch on the water heater. No continuous heating of water here. That is not done. And if you think about it, it is rather a waste of energy. So basking in the warmth of my forced eco friendly bath, I try the water five minutes after I switch on the heater. A trickle of scalding water emerges, I jump aside, add some cold water. Now it’s freezing. Using some deft maneuvering and jiggling of taps, I manage a half-inch thick stream of lukewarm water from the shower. Half of my right shoulder gets a great shower, the rest of me must just wait. That or…I just turn on the cold water full blast. I don’t have the time to wait for this heater to do its thing. Best if I get used to showering in the cold. Will wake me up good, I tell myself.

I have been here six days. Every sense has been assaulted pleasantly and otherwise.

This is the India I conveniently forget when I am not here.

The ultra cool and absolutely un-cool collide with one another leaving one confused.

Bombay was where we first landed. 3000 degrees in the shade. I lost my appetite, quite literally. Figuratively..well, we'll see.

But I haven’t snacked foolishly for days. Hopefully have lost five pounds or on well on my way. Cool.

A young man pushes a vegetable cart across busy highway. Manages to notice old beggar woman and without so much as a glance in her direction hands her some of his produce. She thanks him. He doesn’t acknowledge it. He has a heavy cart to quickly push across the highway before the signal turns and someone in a car or scooter collides with him. Uber cool.

We arrive at Pune. I am buying my son his school uniform at a store. Of course my son wants to use a toilet. Badly. I ask the store manager who is juggling three phone lines, four servants, three languages and my son’s uniforms. No toilet here madam, she says. We use the one at the McDonald’s. Fine. I’ll go there, I say between gritted teeth to my poor son who is now buckled forward holding everything in. We start walking. And we walk and we walk and we manage to cross the road. An aside here. Another aspect of India I also choose to forget. The insane traffic. It stops for no one. If there isn’t a signal at a crossing, cross at your own risk. If there is a signal, its merely considered a suggestion. I carry my son so at least I have some control of the crazies coming at us from both directions and we manage to make it across. Where is the McD’s I ask. A block away, it turns out. We go there. There are washrooms in the adjoining mall. It smells like disinfectant. So strong I think I might faint. But the bathrooms look clean enough. I sit my son atop one. No water!! Oh my goodness. No toilet paper even. I curse under my breath. This is the reason I hate I start to think, feel close to tears…my son starts to laugh. Ok, we step into the next stall and clean up. I try one wash-basin. No water. I am going to panic now. The next one does have water. Both of us start laughing. My son concludes. No one follows the rules on Indian roads, the toilets are a toss up but the McDonalds serves pretty tasty meals--their veggie burgers are really quite yummy.

After that harrowing incident, ok well, not so harrowing but a little, given my OCD issues, we go in search of a backpack for my son. This is a city that takes its siesta very seriously. We are looking around at 2:30. Most shops were closed since that is what they do between 1 and 4. Take a nap. Nice. No backpack today son.

That was yesterday. Today was a good school day. And our first day looking for an apartment. We start at what is a prime location, Boat Club Road. Nice, regal looking building. Four bedrooms, spacious, they said, a duplex. We step in and back. In time that is. The place is a colossus, space wise but really. Dingy, dark, bathrooms that have seen better days in the sixties and even then they were in poor taste. We leave. The next three or four places we see are not exactly a significant improvement on the first. One is promising until I open the kitchen drawers. Rusty steel everywhere. I might get tetanus just looking at it. Right. Large though. Nice building, park outside. Marble floors. Bathrooms could be better but then one needs to compromise somewhere, I suppose.

Looks like we need to up our budget somewhat. For the budget we are offering, one could get nice digs in Chicago but obviously not so here. At least not what we label nice. Champagne tastes, beer budget is what it is starting to look like. But tomorrow is another day. I have so much to be grateful for. My in laws place to stay in for now.

The fact that my boys have adapted like a dream. But I don't know where I stand yet.

Am I happy? Am I disgusted?

I left India swearing never to return. I had my reasons then. Are they valid now? Will I ever be content? Does place even matter to be content?