Romeo and Juliet
(This is an old story I wrote while I was in India last year - came across it today while searching for some old documents. Thought it was interesting enough to be posted here. It gives an interesting glimpse into the events of that time along with what was happening at my place with these two love birds building their nest! )
It was a hot, sunny, summer morning in late April '05 when it all began…
I was sitting in the kitchen in the morning reading my daily newspaper when I saw a beautiful bird come through the kitchen window that opens in the front side of our house. I immediately liked the bird. It was little larger than a sparrow but much smaller than a crow, had a crown on its head and had a beautiful red spot on the backside over a brown body with little strips of white at the edges of its wings. It crooned in very melodious tones. I looked at it for a while and got lost again in the Load-shedding saga on the front page!
While I was going through the sports page with all the brouhaha about choosing a coach for Indian cricket team, my wife softly prodded me on my shoulder and brought my attention to a corner on the ceiling where we have tied a few nylon cords tightly across the passage for drying the clothes. The bird had a leaf blade in its beak and it was looking puzzled on how to tie it across those strings. "Oh… so they are building there nest here!" I thought and looked around for the bird's partner. Sure enough, there was another similar bird at the window - probably female as it lacked the crown. We christened the couple Romeo and Juliet! We didn't interrupt them and the couple went about their nest building frantically. Their chirping was really very sweet and all of us, including my mom, liked them!
The chirping became as familiar a sound at our home as load shedding is to Pune. The only difference being that the latter is not so welcome!
As South Africans continued mauling the West Indies, the incessant efforts of Romeo and Juliet here finally resulted in nest with two egg-sized cosy nooks! It was wonderful to see that such small birds could build such a marvel only with their beaks and persistent determination! By the way, I had quite accidentally come to know that Romeo and Juliet were "bulbuls"! It was in a local newspaper article that I read about a similar nest built somewhere else! I had read about bulbul and its singing abilities a lot in childhood stories but never seen or heard one before. I was delighted even more to know that the glamorous bulbuls had actually chosen my place to build their nest! WOW!! :-)
As the race for the Indian Cricket Coach went into its final phase, we started seeing the Romeo and Juliet sitting inside the nest for long stretches and in turns…
They were trying to hatch their eggs…
Along with the arrival of Greg Chappell, and a near simultaneous come back of Kimi Raikkonen to winning ways in Formula One, Juliet started bringing in some very soft feathers from God knows where! She made a lot of mess around house but must have made her own home quite clean - how very Indian! ;-)
As Sharad Pawar and Bal Thackeray pronounced their liking and respect for each other in a public rally, something equally unusual happened here. At about 10 o'clock at night, as saas-bahus went about their endless battles in equally endless TV serials in our hall, I noticed Romeo still sitting near the nest while on my way to kitchen for a glass of water. Usually, he would leave the nest alone in the evening with Juliet and returned only in the mornings. We immediately knew that the babies had arrived! It spread a lot of excitement around house and I was happy to get rid of the boring duel on screen for some time at least!
The next morning, I heard a piercing cry emanating from where I had just seen my wife standing! "Not unusual," I thought, "Must be a cockroach or a lizard or some poor pest!" I left the horse-trading to Bihar politicians and proceeded to see what happened. To my surprise, it was no pest but Romeo that caused the scream! He was sitting in the kitchen window with a large (dead) grasshopper in his beak! Juliet sitting in the other window chirped and Romeo went on to the nest to feed “the treat” to his offspring. I stretched my neck and legs until it hurt but couldn’t see inside the nest! That reminded me of my daily exercise that I had missed for that day, and proceeded to complete that wondering what Ram Vilas Paswan must be thinking now!
Sure enough, the drama continued - in Bihar and at my home!
Romeo and Juliet would come with some insect or the other throughout the day and fed their children. I would get a call from my excited wife as I went about mundane stuff at my desk in office updating me about their progress. Romeo and Juliet fed them so much that it was almost unbelievable that the newborns could actually eat so much!
Well, the nature was about to answer our amazement…
While I was wondering if Roger Federer could get a cricket knee one morning, the long awaited moment arrived – one of the newborns actually lifted off from the nest! It had barely covered a few feet when it came crashing down - straight into our washbasin!! It was really cute-fat-little bird with no tail but large enough wings for its size. It looked around, panicked and started flapping its wings frantically to get out of the big, wet and white thing it suddenly found itself into! After a few unsuccessful attempts, it finally succeeded. It flew for another few feet and sat on the refrigerator in the kitchen, trying to catch its breath! The next take off and to our collective surprise, it was out of the window and into the world – completely on its own!
A few minutes later, the second one took off too. They both went their respective ways! Leaving the home of their lives… forever!
Looking back, it seemed like a flash when I had noticed Romeo with the first leaf blade. The nest remains in its place. The mornings come and so does the newspaper. But we are waiting for next summer when, hopefully, another pair of Romeo and Juliet would come chirping down the window to fill our house with excitement again!
Till then, let’s see if Narain Karthikeyan can give similar excitement by winning a point in the Formula One! :-)
India's Brain Drain - Different Views
(A few days ago a friend, Abhijeet, sent an email about Indians settling abroad. It is a usual theme. The interesting thing was the attached article was written in Marathi by Dr Jayant and Dr Mangal (I presume his wife?) Naralikar - Pardeshi Jaun Kay MiLate? Kay haravate ? - i.e., What do you achieve/lose by going abroad? It was an old (1996) but interesting article and quite relevant even today. I felt like responding to it and wrote back to Abhijeet about how I felt about the subject. He liked what I wrote and recommended I post it here. I liked the idea and here it is. Not quite the original (mainly because it was a mix of Marathi and English) but content is essentially the same.)
Whether one wants to come abroad or settle in India is quite a personal choice really. The emotional turmoil that comes with the former is also personal but quite universal too. Everyone loves his home. Going away hurts. It's natural. The attachment of a lifetime becomes part of you, your personality. Coming abroad seems like being uprooted and replanted elsewhere initially. Everyone has their story. Here is mine.
In 2001, I came to UK for the first time. It was exciting! Great cars. Great roads. Bland but healthy food. Nicer people. Great work. Europe trips. Opportunities to explore the world. Of course, it also came with all the emotional turmoil I talked about. In that stint, I stayed here for two years and went back in 2003. Without knowing if I'll be coming back ever again.
When I went back, I went through a reverse cultural shock of sorts which was worse in many ways than going abroad! In India, nobody ever held the door open for me. Even at office! Very few people greeted me or smiled when they passed. At the airport, I came across impolite customs and immigration officials. Outside I was greeted by a rickety taxi. On bad roads. Filthy surroundings. Slums. Traffic jams. Poverty. Pollution. It seemed like a nightmare after clean and green UK.
It made me wonder, can I really survive all this? Can I live here now that I know life could be better?
I got another opportunity after an year which brought me back to UK. Once again, I went through the "cultural shock" - albeit quite diluted version of it this time around. I was used to great cars. better roads. More mannerly people. In fact, I had to learn some of those manners again myself!
I had lost some of the good habits while in India you see. If I held the door open for someone, they gave me strange looks or worse didn't even acknowledge me. After being left feeling stupid for holding the door a few times, I stopped doing it! I had to unlearn such things when I went back to India. I also had to learn a few more things again - waiting for others to board first works in UK, it doesn't on Mumbai local trains! :-)
Well, the project ended and I went back to India again after a few months.
This time I anticipated the"reverse cultural shock" I was going to come across. Because the shock was anticipated, it was not exactly a shock at all! I took the rudeness of the officials at the airport in my stride. I expected bad roads and the rickety taxi. I could see it all like a third person. You know, my mind was trained to accept - "This is India and this is how things work here."
Well, my pingpong between the two countries is not over yet and I came to UK yet again.
This time, it was like going to just another city that you have been to before. I started holding the doors open for people on my first day this time. I greeted strangers as if I have been doing it all my life! Again, my mind was trained to accept - "this is UK and this is how things work here."
Anyone should be able to accept either culture quite easily. Especially if they have been through this process a few times like I have done. The condition is, they should not be overtly inclined and partial to any culture!
I feel no trouble at all now.
The moment I land in India, I know I am going to come across impolite customs/immigration, a rickety taxi, bad roads, filthy surroundings, traffic jams, poverty and pollution!
But more importantly I am also going to come across:
My family, my friends, great food, a lot of love, the great feeling of "I am back in my own people!", visible happiness on the faces of people whose love for me is unquestionable, cheap and great quality clothing, quality leather items, value for money and my own home!! :-)
India is a package: poverty and value for money, bad roads and traffic jams, my identity and my family - all these things go hand in hand. One won't exist without the other!
What we need to accept is that whether we come to west or go back to India - whatever we choose, we must choose the "package" and not just "the good stuff" of either culture.
If you choose the west: Be ready to accept being "rich" along with "the distance from loved ones", accept "quality of life" with "culturally confused children" who struggle to identify with either culture.
If you choose India: Be ready to accept being "poorer" along with being a "first rate citizen", accept "being close to family" with "degraded quality of life in certain cases" and so on.
Choose the package, not just the good stuff. Remember, nothing comes without a downside.
Go through the grind a few times and it won't seem as hard is it sounds! It's just a matter of time, trust me! I have been through it! :-)
No blog - just a few photographs of Ananya!
Passport Nightmare - Final Episode
Dusrya divashi sakaLi me eka important call madhye busy hoto aaNi titakyaat maza mobile wajala. Embassy cha number evhana maajha path zala hota. Embassy warun phone aala mhaNun me vicharat paDlo. Kaay karu? Chalu asalela call suddha important hota. Me swat:la conference madhye mute war Thevun shevaTi to phone ghetala.
“Hello, Himanshu here.”
“Hello sir, I am calling from Indian High Commission in London. My name is Arun.” Someone spoke from the other side of the line.
“Yes Arun, tell me.” Me. Wondering what Arun wanted to talk to me about.
“Sir, we will need a filled up application form for your wife’s passport to be reissued.” Arun.
“But I have already discussed this with Mr Kulkarni. I have also sent him an email in this regard.” I could throw names around now. I had learnt their tricks.
“Oh, you have already reached up to Mr Kulkarni!” He sounded surprised.
“…” I waited. ;-)
“Well, let me have a word with him in that case. I’ll call you back.” Arun blinked first.
“Yes please, before you disconnect, may I have your direct number please Mr Arun?” I was still dreading having to go through their IVR system.
He gave his number to me and ended the call.
This brought the doubt back in my mind about what is going to happen next. But it was high time I got back to work. I resumed my other call and forgot about this incident for a couple of days. I was still hoping that Mr Kulkarni would have done the needful.
It was almost a week before I realized that there has been no contact from embassy at all. I thought I must check on the progress. After many tries, I finally got through to Mr Kulkarni. I had to tell him who I was and what I wanted. That was not a good sign. Not at all.
“Have you checked your email Mr Kulkarni? I have sent you the photograph and signature by email.” I doubted now if this old man was net savvy enough to know what email was.
To my horror, he had not! That meant my email was lying around in his mailbox for more than a week unchecked! I was about to lose my patience at this stupidity.
I kept reminding myself, getting angry on these people is only going to make things worse.
Keep cool. Keep cool. Keep cool. I kept repeating to myself.
He promised to get back again – which meant he never would.
Now, I realized that unless I kept pressuring these people with unending calls everyday, I was not going to get the passports back.
From that day on, I kept calling them everyday. I had a reminder specifically setup for the purpose! “Call Embassy for Passports”!
The next day, a woman finally called with some news. Her name was Sheetal.
“Is that Mr Thakur?” Sheetal.
“Yes, speaking.” I.
“Mr Thakur, we have tried printing the photograph you have sent.” I was pleasantly surprised.
“But unfortunately, we can’t get a good print from the scanned photograph you have sent. It’s too grainy for a passport!” She continued.
“Well?” I anticipated she wanted me to send something to her!
“If you don’t mind, will you please send a filled form along with all the details you want to go in her passport? With her signature and photograph of course?” She tried persuading me.
I fought with myself. Why should I send her a long form filled with all the information and take all this trouble for no fault of my own?
“Are you sure a real photograph would help?” I enquired.
I was reluctant but at the same time realized that she was trying to help me.
If I didn’t help, she would have no choice but to use poor-quality photograph and signature. That of course would be a problem for Shubhangi and me.
“Of course, it will. We issue passports from such forms every day” she said.
“Well, ok.” I relented.
“I’ll send the form but only directly to you. Give me your full name and proper address. I don’t want my filled up form to be lost and me having to go through this all again.” I was becoming more and more careful.
She was reluctant but gave it to me.
I sent her the form on the same day. I liked this lady Sheetal – she sounded helpful and was quite keen on doing her job properly I felt.
The next day, I got a text. From Sheetal again. It said ‘We have received your form and photograph. Thanks.’
I was getting more helpful everyday. I was getting a feeling that after a long line of unhelpful and unprofessional people, I was finally coming across someone who cared.
Finally…
After one month long ordeal…
After hours waiting on the IVR…
After many frustrating moments…
A postman dropped a package through our door – containing all three passports! J
But not before making us wait another day – the postman had simply dropped a “I missed you” card a day before without knocking or checking if someone is in to sign for the special delivery.
Well – it ended. The passports arrived.
Only to be sent back again – with addition of my own passport – to the Immigration and Nationality Directorate of this country for Ananya’s visa! They are still with them.
I am waiting with a bated breath.
I am hoping I don’t receive a call while in another meeting, “May I talk to Ananya? Unfortunately….”
Wish me luck!
Passport Nightmare - Part 2
On that day in the evening, I reached home a little worried. The problem we started off our brainstorming with remained unresolved - "dimaag ka dahi" already ho chuka tha! :-(
I was wondering whether or not I should tell Shubhangi about the passport drama. Well I did. Finally. My experience since marriage is that sharing my worries with Shubhangi helps me relax. It did the trick this time too. There was nothing I could do anyway. Soon we got into our usual routine of Ananya, TV, cooking and the internet.
Ananya really keeps us busy. It's a very relaxing experience to play with her in the evening after a hard day's work. With every passing day, she is becoming more and more demanding. She is learning a lot of tricks these days to attract attention. If we don't "strap her in" to the car seat, she can get out of it on her own. She doesn't "cry" but makes a lot of "noise" by yelling constantly if she wants something - UNTIL SHE GETS WHAT SHE WANTS! That was quite amusing initially but also gets frustrating at times. Like now when she wants to be with me and I am into writing this blog! :-)
Well, the next day I tried the number of the lady-who-cancelled-my-wife's-passport (LWCMWP) again. As you must have guessed, she never got back in touch herself.
No reply. Not even a voicemail.
By 12 o'clock that day, I got quite frustrated and decided to get in touch with whoever I could get hold of via the numbers on the website of the high commission. I hoped those people would be a bit more helpful than the LWCMWP. It went to voicemail too - albeit to an Interactive Voice Response system. The longest I have ever been to. It took me 5 minutes to get out of an unending chain of options and finally to a woman who seemed quite irritated to receive the call.
I must admit, the Indian High Commission has maintained "stringent indian government standards" even in London! I have had the misfortune of having to visit the passport section of the India House in person. In one of the most expensive areas of London - Aldwych - which is not more than a few miles away from Kensington Palace Gardens - the most expensive real estate in the world at 128 million dollars - which belongs to the Indian steel magnate Laxmi Mittal, the high commission has managed to put together the typical indian government building's feel of an ageing, run-down, dark and dingy office! Same piles of files, same staff with no courtesy whatsoever to waiting clientele, dusty surroundings and the cashier's cages similar to what you'll find in any SBI branch in India!
Aah... I digressed. The rundown passport section is a topic in itself.
Where was I?
Yup... An irritated lady answered my phone.
I tried to explain what had happened to me with the passports to the lady. She cut me off the moment I uttered the word "passport"! I was left listening to music for what seemed like an eternity and finally someone answered the phone.
"Hello, Passport Section."
I have never been happier to hear someone speak to me on phone before! Never been more relieved!
The first thing I did was to ask the person his name and his direct number. I did not want to torture myself into going through that dreaded IVR again!
It was some Mr Kulkarni, the head of the passport section, who had answered the section's phone on his way to lunch or something. As usual, the person who had the responsibility to answer clients' calls was probably busy with chatting with someone else away from his desk!
"Head of the passport section!" My voice probably reflected the excitement I felt at finding this gold mine of a man. He must have felt flattered.
"Sorry to bother you sir, but someone in your section has wrongly cancelled my wife's passport!" I started off with a bouncer. I had learned the tricks of dealing with these people the hard way by then. You needed to be direct. Only then did they give you a chance to explain what you wanted.
"Oh... you are referring to - what is your wife's name?"
"Shubhangini Pawar"
"Oh yes... Mrs Pawar. I have taken that case very seriously." Mr Kulkarni.
"I agree. Cancelling someone's passport by mistake is... " I trailed off.
"Yeah, I agree. I have asked them to do everything they can to help you." Mr Kulkarni.
By then, from his tone, I knew he was a maharashtrian. I immediately started speaking Marathi.
"Aho saaheb, passport cancel zala chukun tey ek veL samju shakato me, pan toch passport parat issue karayache 27 pounds maagatahet tya madam! Malaa naav nahi mahit tyanche. Kaal tyanna vicharayala wisarlo me." Me maajhi vyatha manDali.
"..." Kulkarni vicharat padlele disle.
"Aata ha passport cancel zalaye tar tyachyasaathi baykoche passport photos, office madhye tichya passport number che changes, visa cell la kaLavaNe... tumhi passport issue kelaat tarii mala ajun baryach goshTi swat:chya khishala khaar laavun karavya laagNaar aahet. Majhya mate jya koni ha passport cancel kelaa tyala itaki shiksha tar vhayalach pahije ki sagaLe expenses tya vyaktine bharavet." Me majha mudda manDala.
"Ho... Barobar aahe tumache! Ha gunha akshamya aahe. Me action gheNar aahe hyawar. Me strong warning diliye already." Kulkarni.
"Thank you. PaN aata tumhi passport issue karNar kasa? Mhanaje details aani photos wagaire kase deu tumhala me?" Me hyaach call madhye hya jhanjhaTitun poorNa mukta vhayacha prayatna karat hoto. ;-)
"Tumhi ase kara, London la yeun deun ja." Kulkarni.
"Kaay?" Me uDaloch.
"Aho - majhya porichya passportsaThi weL kaDhayala malaa 3 mahine laagale. Aata hey aaNakhi ek. AaNi me London madhye rahat naahi. Tumhi maajhi trip sponsor karataye ka?" Kasabasa swat:war taaba thevat me mhaNalo.
"Mag kase karu ya mhanataye?" Kulkarni (thoDe vaitagun). Mala tyachya vaitagaNyashi kaahi gheNe deNe navate! Malaa passport hava hota!
"Tumacha email address dya. Me tumhala bayakocha photo ani signature scan karun pathawato. Baakiche tumhi bagha." Me majhi idea suchawali.
"Umm... theek aahe, pathava." (kasanusa chehra karat bahutek) Kulkarni.
Me vijayi aavirbhaavat tyancha email address wagaire lihun ghetala.
Tyaach dupaari lunch karun parat yetana me Shuhbangicha ek photo aani baryachshya vegvegaLya sizes chya signature gheun aalo. Tya scan kelya aaNi paThawun dilya.
Majhya drushTine tya veLi tari ek moTha problem sampala hota... Aata kahi divasat hya doghinche passports yeNaar mhanun anandatach me office soDale tya divashi.
Pann dusarya divashi sakaLi....
TO BE CONTINUED...
