The Mighty Indian Bai

One night, when I was a kid, me and my family all were having dinner in my parent's bedroom in front of the TV. My father finished first because he was always fed first. Brother and I were in the middle of it when my mother came in with her plate after she had done with cooking chapatis for all. And then we sat there, captivated by the TV with our brains blank and eyes wide, while our hands and mouths focused subconsciously on eating.

I didn't even remember when I finished. But I did remember my peripheral vision catching a glimpse of others going out with their empty plates and coming back except my mother. And I also remember hearing metal plates clanging against each other and tap-water flowing somewhere distant in the kitchen. But these mundane details din't divert me from the hypnotizing screen. I was in my happy place - fully fed with my plate completely empty in front of me, watching our family's favorite series with everyone quiet! It was a perfectly peaceful and ordinary family night like I liked! Until...

"WHY ARE YOU STILL SITTING HERE??? CHOT KI TARAH!!!" (like chot!)

Startled, I looked up to my left, and found these shouted words to be of my mother's. Red-faced but still beautiful, she was standing over me, her neck slightly angled and bent forward, her kurta wet around her belly, and her moist hands ready to grab something, or anything on me! My happy place had been intruded! I immediately felt little. TV's sounds faded into background and my active brain went on red alert. I quickly worked on what she meant so as to escape her!  'chot ki tarah???' like chot? Never heard of it! Not even from her! Nope! What did she mean by it? Was it even a word? Did she invent it right now? Or was it another word from her already comical regional slang, like many others that she used every now and then when she was in full form! It sure sounded funny! My secret giggle loop had activated itself and I no longer felt little!

"What's chot?", confused but still wanting to find my way out, I finally asked her. She did not see this coming. She quickly looked around at others for help - brother and father. I looked at them too, in the hope of an answer. But they looked back at her like pigeons - blank, wide-eyed and with the expression of what the hell is going on! My giggle loop went infinite and I couldn't help but laugh! Brother joined in! Papa too! And then my mother gave in too! She told us that in her native place it means "fresh mound of cow dropping, known for its super stillness!"  And she said so as I had not given my plate to her for washing due to my infamous inertia.

This was not the only burst of anger I had suffered for not helping her out much in household chores, except for dusting which I regularly did. Its not that we did not have help from maids, we did. But she feared that I will not be able to manage my home or maids when I grow up because I will not know how to do or get a chore done 'properly'. So she wanted me to help her out when I was not studying or doing extra-curricular stuff, which was fair of her. But my father would always come out in support of me saying "Ah! let her study. She will get a nice-paying job if she studies well. And then she can keep more than one maids to help her out with the chores"! I liked his idea because I could laze around reading a novel or something when I was not studying. And so, I always had this pleasant picture in my mind while growing up - I have to get a job so that I can keep maids for help as I am not accustomed to doing it all by myself. But who knew reality in the future would be completely different than imagined, like always! 

A few years later, I was about to get married. One of my colleagues and friend asked me where I would be relocating to after marriage. I said USA. He warned me not to go there. When I asked why, he joked "American maids are not affordable, your fiance is not marrying you because he likes you, he is actually looking for a maid!!!" What he said was partly right. Of course my fiance married me because he liked me, but I had no idea that American maids were so expensive!! I was secretly freaked because stupid 'reality' was tearing off my pleasant imaginary picture, but I laughed it off to cover up. 

And then I came here, to US. I didn't have a job initially, so I had a lot of time. I did cooking and household chores whenever I was not studying for college. Just like Rachel Green in the series Friends, I learnt and soon became proficient in doing them. I even started liking cleaning because it felt kind of therapeutic - freed my mind from random thoughts! But now, I have a skill-based job which is a whole level different from studying in the sense that I don't have much free time! The chores are still the same, but now it seems impossible to cope up with them even with all the spousal and electrical help the American homes come equipped with. 

I live in a 2 bed-2 bath apartment with no pets. The chores are - grocery shopping, cleaning and cutting veggies, cooking and planning ahead for it, cleaning dishes, cleaning the kitchen, mopping non carpeted floors, dusting, returning things back to where they belong, vacuuming, arranging the cupboards, hand washing delicate clothes, drying, folding and ironing them up, cleaning refrigerator and microwave oven. Don't even get me started on the bathrooms - that's a whole other planet of rigorous sanitary requirements! The only true electrical maids that I have besides other gadgets are - dishwasher, washing machine, drier, vacuum-cleaner.

But still time has to be devoted with them. If doing chores one evening, I cannot do any of my personal-wall-of-achievements stuff like learning to cook something new, learning a new technology, playing violin or exercising or any other new stuff which are all important to keep me motivated! 

Hence, the electrical maids still seem no match for the Bai-gangs of India who are the real Ma Durgas of Indian society! They are fierce and do chores so quickly that it seems as if they have many hands at one time! Mops, broom, scrubs are her weapons! They are as readily available and affordable as Durga idols. They decorate themselves beautifully, like pundits decorate this beloved deity. On festivals, they are given presents of cloth, food and money, just like Durga's idol is pampered with new dress, halwa-poori and shringaar. Like a lion, they also have an environment friendly ride - bicycle! And guess what - Indian women even pray to them - for extra help when guests come over, for not leaving them, for not disclosing in-house secrets to neighbors, for coming on time, for negotiating pay, even for getting not-so-fair wishes answered like for not taking extra-paid leaves without telling them in advance! 

I miss them! As for replacements here, there are plenty, but none as worthy and entertaining as them. Professional cleaners/Maids are available on hourly basis, costing more than $100 for 4-5 hours, but they can be choosy in what they do and take more hours than the super Indian Bai. You will still have to handle all the dishes and the laundry part. Indian cooks are available too if you don't like purchasing lunches from outside and would rather eat Indian food with your own hand-picked ingredients. For $40-$50, they will cook 4-5 dishes on a weekend for the whole week at once! I haven't tried them so I think I should. But I fear I will loose one column from my personal achievements table if I don't cook myself for long and get accustomed to them.

Even the most capitalistic society in the world has its limits - labor laws! There is no option to forego some quality or protocols for cheaper services, even for medical or emergency services! They would rather invest millions, hire the best brains from all over the world and develop a BB-8 like droid to do it all and sell it!

Hold on...imagine such a droid! If a corp like Boston Dynamics even does so in the near future, I would be among the first ones to apply for a programmer's position there! Or in an alternate universe, this would be my startup idea! I would name this droid BAIJANTI BAI! I would implant a Siri like voice assistant in it whose accent would be configurable - bhojpuri, bihari, marathi, you name it! Its feet would be a super advanced Rumba that could map what kind of floor its traversing on and mop or vacuum it accordingly! It would have multiple hands like Durga for kitchen work - 2 hands handling veggies, 2 hands putting dishes in dish-washer, a hand stirring Karhi, and a hand cleaning the counter-tops. Via a private network, it would be configurable with other devices like roti-matic, refrigerators for inventory management, food processors for cutting veggies as programmed, washer-dryer for handling clothes, tiles for keeping stuff where they belong, smart-phones for calling emergency. It would have the capability of dissembling for transportation or doing parallel jobs at once like cleaning bathrooms while doing kitchen stuff and then assembling back on its own! And finally icing on the cake - it would sense when I am not my happy self through facial recognition and then say to me in accent, "Madam ji, you are beautiful!!" Hell, I won't even care if it goes buggy and repeats it all day long even when I am happy!

Wow! I never knew I would sound like my mother cribbing so much for a bai !! But she has more than one and me not even one! My god now I sound like a jealous neighbor woman! With one imaginary picture torn, time to make another - "If I return back to India I will hire more than one Baijanti bais, or maybe create one in the alternate universe! Till then toil and till!" How's that...reality?

Princely Privileges of Pedestrians

Pedestrians in this country have a status no less holy than that of a cow on the Indian streets! So if you walk to work in the US, you are in more mortal danger of being torn apart by your boss rather than being run over in the urban wild!

Whether you are walking on the city streets in 8-inch heels while balancing 15 shopping bags in both arms or in sneakers only carrying your beautiful wife's tiny Victoria's Secret bag, you are perfectly safe! 'Right of Way' is the superpower that makes it happen. It means that walking earthlings take precedence over vehicles. And yes sir its functional! Not only because the sincere law-enforcers see to it but also because drivers are in no hurry. They let you cross smilingly when there is no sign saying so. They also apologize when they come to a not-so-late screeching halt on seeing you!

Charming, isn't it! I wonder if the people born and brought up here realize its no less than a princely privilege!

Any work that I did after coming halfway to this part of the earth was a task which required learning and adapting. Be it operating the freaking cutter in the kitchen, struggling with laundry robots or shopping groceries in the never ending sky touching aisles! Walking on the streets was no less. The first time I ventured out, I was on the phone with my husband asking questions any 4 year old would ask:
Q. Can I cross the road if I am not on a crossing?
A.  Its called jaywalking. Well the cars would slow down on seeing you. But don't do it. Police may fine you!
Q. What if ambulance or fire-brigade comes by?
A. Then its you who stops not them.
Q. Ok, so how do I do it?
A. Go to nearest crossroad, push that nice shiny metal button on the pole pointing to the direction you wanna go, wait for the bloody red hand on the opposite side to transform into Saruman the White, and then you cross it! The wizard will protect you from the vehicular orcs until its showing up or counting backwards till 0.
Q. Got it.........crossed it. Now do I have to press the button again to switch the signal off?
A. Noooooo! - replied the urgent and forbidding voice on the phone. (too late...I had already pressed the shiny button....evil smile...curiosity cannot be resisted!)

It was overwhelming to see that your life is being valued on the roads. I always had a silly drooling smile when walking initially! Seeing an 8-speed 4 wheel drive SUV slow down and overtake while maintaining a really big distance from you when in residential areas was not easy!  2 years and its only now that I have gotten used to it without turning my survival instincts on! Not only me, my father, was here for two months and he would always scurry away to the other side even when the white sign showed up, like several other Indian parents!

'Organized', 'law-enforcement' and 'patience' are tickling comical words that would make any Indian laugh in context of urban living. They are almost mythical, like the word 'ghost', they exist in the dictionary but are seldom seen in reality! I remember being helped by a traffic police personnel in Hyderabad on a very busy road. On seeing me wait for what seemed like eternity, he signaled the entire traffic to stop for a single 'me'! Bikes, cars, trucks - all vehicles running away from each other trying to save themselves (as one of my uncle puts it)- slowed down to a halt! It was stunning and while I was crossing, I felt no less than a memsahib from the British raj! The drivers had realized why they had been stopped and many of them just smiled at me and the brave traffic police man! Such is the rarity of the 'right of way' for pedestrians on the Indian roads!

This was just one time that I got lucky as a pedestrian in India. I recall my grandmother's phobia of crossing the roads. Dadiji - I used to call her. If she had her way she would stand by the side of an Indian road and never cross it. And whenever she did, it was always with her eyes closed even when helped on by holding her hand! I wish she would have lived here...in one of the safest concrete jungles ever!

Anatomy of an American bus

"Traaaaffic!! Why are your classes scheduled during the peak hours?", my frustated Husband asked while dropping me to college in his coupe designed for racing! "Because its Master's, professionals do it part time", I answered, feeling guilty for having him come out of office to drop me. "Look around, just 1 person in each car! And so many cars! All crawling! Crawling cars!", he scowled. I was quiet and stiff as I could feel a heavy presence of a third entity in the car named - frustation! "When will you start driving on your own?", he asked gently after having breathed in. "Once I get confident enough on the internal roads, if not the freeways", I told him reassuringly with a smile and finally felt the frustration draining out through the ac exhaust. 

So one day, we took an internal route to university with me on the wheel. The Husband accompanied me as I was a student driver, a 'female' student driver, well... a 'female' student driver in 'his' speedy coupe to be precise! But the crawling traffic ensued there too. And so did the frustration!

"Will you go by bus? I get an orca card from my company for compensating bus rides which you can use." he asked me over dinner while gobbling down his food. "No, I have heard stories of unpleasant weed-stricken creatures lurking around in the buses here" I refused, horrified at the idea. "Please!", he pleaded. "No way! Aren't you worried about my security! What if those fowl creatures kidnap me! Do you realize that you are answerable to a father-in-law now?"  I protested. "Who will kidnap you, hahaha!", he laughed, amused at the impossible idea of his feisty wife going down without a fight and heartily gobbled down some more food. "Buses are quite high-tech here. Machines do the billing. And I have never operated them. It would be embarrassing if I fumble with them with all those Americans waiting behind me in the line!", I said. Sensing my real concern here, he smiled and promised to accompany me for the first time.

But my worst fears materialized on my first ride. We thought we had the exact change for one person but in fact we did not. So we hopped out just as we hopped in! And the 'Regulars' behind us got confused as to what had happened. It was embarrassing but the world is not perfect either. And so we consoled ourselves. Thereafter, I found myself determined to commute only by buses. Its been 4 months and I can now call myself a 'Regular'!

My American bus journeys have been equally spectacular as the Indian ones. Yet the two in-animates of the same species bear differences. The American buses are an engineer's pride whereas the Indian buses are an accommodation delight!

1. Bus that I take to commute to UWB campus from this very stop! Credits: http://www.flickr.com/photos/viriyincy/6111648480/in/photostream/

Cycle stands vs Carriers - Besides performing the basic function of seating people, American buses also seat their cycles! Cycle stands are located in front of a bus on which people mount them securely. They carry 3 of them at most, quite unlike the Indian buses, which can happily carry unlimited cycles on their heads! Yes, the American buses lack a top carrier and rear ladder for climbing onto them unlike the Indian buses which are widely known to carry practically anything under the sun - some more people and their never-ending luggage(stoves, trunks, goats and even their grass to name a few)!!

2. Cycle in its special place

3. An Indian Bus donning Fevicol adhesive's ad
Credits: http://www.thehindubusinessline.com/features/brandline/a-clear-winner/article2967413.ece

Machines vs Conductor - In American buses, all the humble jobs of a conductor in India are done by machines.

• Instead of a harsh and loud male voice yelling the stop before it arrives and the final destination before boarding, there is a prerecorded elegant female voice that does the announcing! And in extreme cases, the driver has an announcement system for apologizing in case of diversions or closed bus-stops!(yes, they apologize!)
• Instead of a conductor issuing tickets just as bus starts, there is a machine right at the entrance doing the billing just as people board. Coins, bills and passes are allowed.
• Instead of a conductor remembering your stop for you and whistling to signal the driver to stop, one has to pull a bell cord or touch a sensor besides his/her window just before the stop arrives to signal the driver to stop!
• A conductor asks for directions from fellow drivers in case there is a diversion! But American drivers are equipped with GPS systems to re-route their ways!
  
  
  

4. Tug! tug! Bell cords
Credits: https://www.nytsyn.com/images/photos/326769.html

Hydraulics vs Man Power - Indian commuters climb awkwardly onto the high steps of Indian buses and those with special needs are helped on by others. Believe it or not, American buses bow down when they open gates for letting people in, as if saying 'Human! I bow to thee!' Gasping? Here is even more - they even let out a ramp for helping people in wheelchairs board a bus! I never imagined hydraulics can be this cool and useful!

5. Wheelchair ramps. 'Human! I bow to thee!', said the bus.
Credits: http://jugaadtoinnovation.blogspot.com/2012/06/making-technology-innovation-work-for.html

Tight Screwing vs Dancing Parts - No, the laminated safety glass windows in American buses do not dance as loudly as they do in the rickety Indian buses as if expressing their merriment on the prospect of coming apart at any time. Neither does any screw nor any seat! Everything is firmly, quietly and tightly screwed in!

Cosmetics - American buses are uniformly futuristic in their appearance. They are decorated with numerous lights and support climate control. The seats are clean, cushioned and equipped with head guards, hand rests, foot rests and even support reclining capability! Everything is scientifically researched! All the windows can be used for exiting in emergency. Quite opposite to this, the Indian buses are of many kinds - ranging from traditionally and colorfully decorated inter-state buses to the AC buses now prevalent in Indian metro cities. Yet none of them support the above luxuries with such uniformity!

Queues/Lines - This is not a part of bus but related to them very significantly. Americans board a bus in a disciplined first-come-first-serve manner. They form a line as soon as they reach a bay(bus stop). People wanting to board a bus come out of the line to form a second line! The rest stay put in the previous line and shrink it. People disembarking a bus have the right of way first.

Such a line of course has never been heard of by bus commuters in India! Its a show of strength, for the fear of being left behind among so many people is so en-grained not just in the minds of those boarding but also in those disembarking! Putting in a belonging like a napkin, dupatta, tiffin-box or a child from outside through the window onto a seat is one of the many amusing ways in which Indians can secure a seat for themselves!

English-Vinglish

'Also add some capsicum please!' said I, a while ago in a Subway outlet in Oregon state to a lady preparing my sub. 'You mean...the bell peppers????' said she, pausing, stretching her words slowly, with wide eyes, as if she has heard of some freaking new vegetable! 'Ummm yes, bell peppers', I said now pointing to the chopped green vegetable, & silently cursing my primary school English teachers for not having taught me the international 'angrezi' synonym for 'shimla mirch'!!! Since then, whenever I see a Subway outlet, 'bell peppers' flash for a moment in my head!

When it comes to 'Angrezi' (English), Americans have fixed words for things. Such deep is the fixation in their vocabulary that they are amusingly baffled even if they hear a synonym of those fixed words! Its typical of them to take a while to understand what has been referred to. Its different from India in the sense that, of course desi people follow British English, but we also tend to use a 'range' of words for identifying a thing. This may be attributed to the fact 'Angrezi' is our second language and that we refer to a thing by the very first word that sprouts up for it in our minds that moment.

For example, if we want to refer to a 3 bedroom-hall-kitchen home in a high rise, we may use a variety of words like 'flat' or 'apartment' or even '2-bhk'/'3-bhk'. But people here simply call it an apartment or a condo. So if one did not use these two words here, he/she has a high chance of landing up in a question loop - 'Flat? what is flat? why do you call an apartment flat? Isn't a surface flat!', forget mentioning how many 'bhk' it is!

This international 'you mean...??' confusion in the still-not-standardized international language sometimes leads to hilarious or embarrassing consequences. So don't worry if landing up in one when in US because, 'Bura na mano, English hai'!

I have been noting down such discrepancies which I have encountered and here they are:
Format: Indian noun/phrase - American noun/phrase.(+extra notes)

• Capsicum - Bell peppers. (Any color)
• Brinjal - Eggplant. (Any size)
• Lady Finger - Okra.
• Green chillies - Thai green chillies. (The typical small ones. Green chillies of different sizes have different names here unlike in India where anything which looks like a green chilly no matter how big or small is well,  a green chilly for us!)
• Coriander leaves - Cilantro leaves.
• Pulses - Lentils.
• Curd - Yogurt.
• Tomato sauce - Ketchup.
• Toffee - Candy.
• Biscuits - Biscotti/ Cookies.
• Flat - Apartment/Condo.
• Balcony - Patio.
• Almirah - Closet.
• Tap - Faucet.
• Letter box - Mail box.
• Queue - Line. (yup, even such a basic one is an eyebrow raiser!)
• Polythene bag - Plastic bag.
• Bus stand - Bus terminal.
• Petrol - Gas.
• Challan - Ticket.
• Can you drive a manual car? - Can you drive a stick?
• Take away - To go.
• Stall(cloth piece worn around neck) - Scarf.
• Blanket - Comforter.
• Center table - Coffee table.
• Settee - Ottoman.

Some more (added later):

• Bill (in restaurants) - Cheque.
• Ground floor - First floor! (yup, there are no ground floors hereee!)
• Lift - Elevator.

US Diwali Experience

"Take permission for bursting crackers from the city police??", I exclaimed with my eyes widening and with an expression on my face which was a cross between shock and amusement! This was when we were planning a get-together for celebrating Diwali along with our friends a few days prior to the grand festival. "Yes! that is why Indians gather at temples here, as management of temples manage to obtain permissions for the same conveniently", added my husband, "and that too for crackers which are not air-borne!", he added further while laughing heartily this time! So I guessed that my plight this Diwali would be no better than that of an average Indian kindergarten kid, who is just allowed to light up a "phool-jhadi" for safety reasons!

I got to learn that "phool-jhadi" has an English name here - Sparklers - which I had never heard of while I was in India. Its amazing how globalization does wonders in internationalizing a local concept! so why is it that I was feeling so insignificant about lighting up a "sparkler"? Because Indians are not considered to have had an adventurous and prosperous Diwali until and unless they had launched a rocket or two (bonus if they get a rocket-misfire story to tell), or had blown off a loud-noisy-freakish-mysterious looking bullet bomb (bonus if they manage to scare off an aunty whom they like the least), or had mustered enough courage to light up a "larhi" - a chain of mini crackers (bonus if its the longest in neighborhood). Hence, a sparkler does not manage to impress Diwali-adventure seekers and somehow does not qualify to be a cracker.

But we did buy 2 packs of 5 sparklers each, for the sake of 'shagun'(good-fortune), just in case we managed to pay a visit to a temple. There are 3 Hindu temples in this city: a north Indian kind located nearest to our home, a south Indian kind located farthest from our home and an international kind located at an intermediary distance - ISKCON as you might have guessed! We all chose to converge at the nearest one. But as I got tired after carrying out an intensive cleaning operation in my house for Diwali pooja, I cancelled my visit to take some time off for a nap as we were supposed to meet over dinner following the temple visit of the rest. It was from their experience that I came to know that local police was also present at the temple to watch over the proceedings, as a big cracker-adventure seeking crowd had gathered there, amid dense evergreen trees and colored fall leaves covering the roads heavily and wooden buildings. Such is the impressive level of seriousness and responsiveness of the US law-enforcing agencies!

In contrast, it amuses me to imagine what would happen if Indian police were trying to enforce such regulations in India while on beat on Diwali night? Some of the junta (public) may comply with them but the others would manage to fend them off successfully! Punjabis would do so by making the cops 'happy' by slipping in free bottles of liquor and butter chicken in their jeep.  Sophisticated Delhiites would make them 'happy' by giving Rs 101, or Rs 201, or Rs 501 as 'shagun'. In Uttar Pradesh, forget making them 'happy', instead people would call the cops 'Baavle'(mad) and would happily scare them off by chasing them with anything in their hands!

Despite the odds: of being in US and not being able to visit India for celebrating Diwali with parents, of not being able to hear constant booms or bangs throughout the night and of not being able to see each home glowing beautifully, we still wanted to celebrate it in a memorable way, as it was our first Diwali after marriage! So together we did deep-cleaning of our house, drew 2 rangoli designs for hours(photo below), did Laxmi Pooja as traditionally as possible and prepared intensive halwa-poori dinner. All of this for the first time ever on our own. Not bad right? Diwali 2013 in US will definitely be cherished forever!

Quirks of living in a wooden house!

Houses are made of wood in the US, my husband informed me. He was hunting for a new home where we would shift after marriage. Recollecting my wonderful experiences of staying in wooden houses in Shimla, I was overly excited and enthusiastically started looking forward to reliving in one! During school days, I had often imagined myself in a wooden house having a Ruskin Bond book in one hand and a coffee mug in another, sitting besides a fireplace and a window, on a foggy winter day in evergreen surroundings! Such was an idea of heaven in my mind! But reality shows us more than what is imagined and desired!

We finally decided upon a house and he moved there a few days prior to marriage to make it comfortable for me when I arrive. It was one of his first nights alone in this home when he was confronted by an unpleasant noise of a shaking door! Next morning he called me on Skype to tell me about the scary night. Beginning to suspect a haunting, just like in movies, we talked in detail about it. We concluded that instead of a spirit on the loose, it was one of the doors that was probably loose, shaking whenever a heavy physical activity, and not a paranormal activity, occurred in that wooden building. Despite knowing about it in advance, I got a real fright when it actually happened in my presence!

"Wake up! Did you hear that?" I nudged my husband until he moved and groaned "What!! what happened?". "Shhh! listen, do you hear something?" I said. Motionlessly, quietly and intently, we listened. A closed door in our house vibrated. It was brief but frequent. Our Indian experience was hinting us of an earthquake. But our bed was still. "Yes I hear a door shaking!" he confirmed. We continued to hear even more intently to make some sense of it all. None of us was getting out of bed to check on which door was suddenly shivering in the cold of the night and why, for both scare and sleep were overwhelming enough to confine us to our places! "Oh probably someone is walking on the floor above, lets go back to sleep now" he said while yawning after having applied some reasoning in a drowsy state. "Who is walking at this time!!!" I revolted, not at all satisfied with his reasoning! "You live in a wooden house now!" he said and dozed off! After some confusion, I calmed myself by finally recalling that it had happened before without any harm and dozed off myself.

This wasn't the only incidence when our house had suddenly gone alive! There was a night when sounds were so peculiar that I literally forced my husband to check out the whole house, with me cowering behind him, fearing a break in!!! The sounds we hear are all possible noises wooden surfaces could make- footsteps, thuds, knocking, scratching! In fact, I know a lot about my neighbors from these sounds that I hear rather than having met them personally!

A lady on a floor above wears high heels, for her heels can be heard very distinctly trotting in a wooden corridor between 11 am to 1 pm. Her confident trotting reminds me of the girls from the novel 'The Devil wears Prada'. I have never met her though! A man with a naturally heavy bass voice lives just below and can be heard from anywhere in my house when he speaks over phone in his patio! He works from home. He is probably an insomniac or a workaholic, for muffles of his bass laden voice, which totally negate the theory of wood being a noise insulator, can be heard till very late in night! I have never met him either! A couple with a baby live next door with whom we share a wall. The wife probably exercises before lunch for a dampened energetic music plays from behind this wall, repeating everyday! I have never met them too! The other side of my house is shared by a middle aged Indian family, whom I saw while they shifted in, but confirmation happened only when I heard them seeing off their guests in Hindi. Despite this, I have never met them! A deep contrast to what I experienced in India!

Indians know about their neighbors right from day one! It begins by offering for help while shifting in, and sometimes hot chai if lucky! Even the great Ambuja cement in their walls lacks the courage to limit the might of an even greater Indian curiosity! It cannot be quenched by just eavesdropping, for their ears are too accustomed to hearing ginger being squashed in a mortar for chai, a mixer thundering, a cooker whistling or a Kaamwaali (a female maid) ringing a bell, that they can precisely tell at which time it will happen! Moreover, concrete does not vibrate like wood to tell them where their neighbor is standing right now. Why trouble eavesdropping then when they can know everything about their neighbors, their parents, uncles, great grand uncles or distantly related nephews directly from them!! And for something which they can not know directly despite various attempts, the Kaamwaali comes in handy! But there is always someone next door to talk to if feeling alone in India. No doubt why neighboring granny's quickly become best friends to talk about old-age pains or grandchildren or bitch about the oh so unfair doings of their daughter-in-laws! One just needs to peep out of the window or ring a bell for the neighborhood is always alive!

If it is India and a concrete house is vibrating, its occupants know for sure that an earthquake has hit the Indian subcontinent! Everyone rushes out immediately and wait until the tremors subside. But how can one tell when a wooden house is vibrating, it is actually because of an earthquake and not due to a large muscular maintenance man running after his dog in the building! My husband for once did not have an answer to my question, for he lacked an experience in this regard. Other questions followed, like what happens if important documents like passports, college degrees, or credit cards of a foreign national get destroyed in a natural calamity in a country not his motherland! Probably a copy of them can be requested, but he wasn't sure. I panicked! Since then I keep a satchel handy containing important documents in case I have to rush out immediately! I did not know whether there was anyone else freaking out similarly until I met a Punjabi friend of mine this week! She always keeps her car keys handy in case she has to run out in emergency!

Concrete houses have another advantage over their wooden counterparts - they do not catch fire as easily as the latter. Not even a day goes by here that a fire brigade's siren is not heard wailing loudly all its way to somewhere. Sometimes even thrice a day for the fire alarms are so sensitive that they go off even if the source of the smoke is not an actual fire! Thankfully my alarm has never gone off false-fully. My fears were almost realized when a little brown 'laddu' (a famous Indian sweet) burst in my microwave. It had gone black in its core with anger of being heated for longer than necessary. Such was the wrath of that black-brown laddu that it started fuming heavily with fury! So dense was the smoke that I was literally dancing below the fire alarm with a dusting cloth in my hand to lessen it! When it was not helping, I closed the microwave's door with the miserable laddu inside it and opened all possible windows and doors in my house! Thankfully the alarm did not go off!

Despite these comical occurrences, my rosy image of a wooden house still remains to be as cozy as it was before, as they are warm unlike the concrete ones which can get icy cold! I now read a Ruskin Bond book besides a lit fireplace, on cold days sipping hot ginger chai, sometimes looking out of the large glass doors of the patio into the cold and cloudy weather hovering over the evergreen pine and fir trees, happily reliving my childhood imaginations and the charm of Shimla!

What I miss about India being in America - Auto-rickshaws!

"Do you know how to drive a car?" he asked me. He being my husband. After recalling a not so pleasant experience of thudding my father's precious old Maruti 800 into an auto-rickshaw from behind on a busy Chandigarh roundabout, I answered, "Oh yes! provided the road is fairly empty!!". Chuckling, he suggested "Traffic in Bellevue is tamed, lacking the unpredictability of Indian drivers. So, you can get confident on this front quickly. It's kind of necessary here". With the angry eyes of that auto-rickshaw driver, who had turned back to scowl at me, still haunting me, I was nothing but reluctant. "Why necessary?" I lamented. But with time I got my answer.

Public transport here is not as fortunate as in India. Bellevue not being big and busy lacks local trains. Very less often do I see taxis here which they call yellow cabs driven by Sardarjis. One evening we were going out to some place and I was looking out of the window into the void. I realized that something else and important was also missing on these roads. After having identified it, I immediately turned to him.

"All this time that I have been here, I have never really seen a bus!! what do the buses of this land look like? I haven't noticed a bus stop either!!". Surprised to hear this, he informed me that buses do exist but are not frequent enough. And bus stops can be identified by a single pole standing alone somewhere in the middle of a footpath holding a boring information board. This board informs commuters about the numbers of buses that stop there and the times at which they like to stop there. Some lucky bus stops have a shed with benches below them.  On hearing this, I began to keep a keen lookout for bus stops and buses! I did not have to wait for long and soon spotted my first bus!

I was out for a walk one day and hello it was there! Standing right outside my society on a bus stop, and one of the lucky bus stops it was! The bus was dark green in color with yellow parking lights flashing all around it and LEDs flashing on top of it, listing its destinations.It was much like the new AC buses of Delhi except that it had a cycle stand fitted outside in front of it below the driver seat's level. A girl was loading her cycle onto it. I have seen buses of course, but this experience of seeing a bus was thrilling like never before!! After realizing that my mouth had been open in awe for a long time,  I called up my husband to tell him about it for the thrill was difficult to contain! It seemed that even he was unaware of an alive bus-stand just outside our home! So in the evening we surveyed it. We checked out the frequency, and it was evident that these cycle carrying buses did not like travelling much, with the least waiting time being half an hour!

American love for travelling by cars is widely known, due to their well developed roadways, which is the backbone of their economy. But this country does lack a few good thrifty pleasures of life that Indians experience daily. Rickshaws, Auto-rickshaws, tempos, tuk-tuks, 'jugaad' are some of them! The experience of a three-wheeler in India is such that no other foreign land can provide! One has to just step out in a street to spot them. It is a sight to see such tiny little rides zig-zagging their way through speeding traffic, carrying heavy-bottomed Auntijis (Aunts) to sabzi-mandis (farmer's market) or child-lings to schools. Wholeheartedly and colorfully decorated by their drivers, they carry cleverly creative one-liners like "dekho magar pyaar se" (look but with love) on their backs to ward off evil!!! Deceptive are their fragile appearances, for they boldly carry heavy load without falling apart on the bumpy roads! Overburdened, they still dare to take in more people, as if silently challenging other three-wheeler besides them. When it comes to accommodating a lot of people, none can accommodate like Indians do! Their passengers coming from all walks of life share a common ride for a brief interval. Their meters are like human appendices, non-functioning organs! Each ride is different and can develop into an experience interesting enough to be told and retold a number of times!

I had mine too. In Hyderabad once, I along with 5 other girls decided to share an auto-rickshaw to office due to their reduced frequency. Four sat in the back and two in the front with the driver. Such accommodation was common, provided no police was patrolling the area. But females sitting in front with the driver was utterly uncommon!! It was a first for us too. The comical rarity of this ride became all the more evident when we stopped at a red light on a traffic signal.There was an auto to the left of us and an auto to the right of us. Well, there were auto-rickshaws all around us! All similarly jam-packed! But ours stood out. The male office-goers noticed us and started giggling, for they had just now witnessed a funny yet bold sight, to start off their boring daily routines with a smile! We could not control our laughter too!!! The other auto drivers gave silent naughty smiles to our poor driver, who was embarrassed, and was looking down and smiling to himself. Such was a rare public display of female empowerment that day!

Talking of female empowerment, why I had not become an expert driver yet? I asked myself. Because my father, my father's driver and the ever available public transport of India carried me in their vehicles wherever I wanted them to carry me, I answered myself. Learning to drive was just a luxury to me, which I avoided fearing the craziest traffic on earth. But an incident here with my husband made me realize that it was no more a luxury but a necessity! He cut his finger while opening a can. Judging by the amount of blood flow, we decided to go to hospital. But as he had hurt his right hand, driving was impossible. He asked me 'Tell me, can you drive me to hospital confidently? remember its right-handed out here'. "No", I said wishing that I could say otherwise. He called his friend instead of an ambulance for it wasn't necessary enough for a finger cut.

That was the day when I wished there was a group of auto-rickshaws huddled in my street, hunting for passengers, readily agreeing to rush in emergency. That was the day when I put driving as my number one priority.  Since then, I am practicing driving with my husband teaching me happily. My father has cautioned his son-in-law "Careful! She does not like pressing brake, in fact she never presses it!!!".