Tuesday, August 28, 2018
Getting an Indian SIM Card, Understanding Internet and Cable Connections, Banking Woes Sorted, And a Birthday Party in Girgaum
Namaste from Bombay!
Through a night of intermittent sleep—awaking every couple of hours but immediately falling asleep again—I awoke to a lovely breakfast in the Dining Hall of the West End Hotel where there was only one other guest. The waiters—retainers from a former era—provided excellent service and were startlingly attentive in an old-fashioned sort of way. I had muesli with hot milk (that was produced magically when I asked for it), an omelette studded with green chilies (yum!), a chicken sausage, a slice of cold roast chicken and salad, and a bowl of tropical fruit—papaya, watermelon and pineapple—and very good coffee. I am realizing that the West End is one of those hotels that offers old-world graciousness without any fancy frills. I am starting to feel more and more at home here.
Right after breakfast and a shower, I dressed in what I thought would pass for party attire and left the hotel to get to Bandra on the suburban train. Traveling against the office commuter crowd was a breeze. The First Class Ladies compartment was super clean, had very clean ceiling fans with switches that passengers operated as they entered and was almost empty by the time it left Churchgate station. By Dadar, every seat was taken but it never became packed. I noticed a new station—Prabhadevi—and I asked the girl besides me if it was a new one. She told me that Elphinstone Road station has had a name change—it is now called Prabhadevi. Funny, but the last time I had taken the train, I had wondered how long it would be before they changed the name of that station—and lo and behold, it had been done. Now wondering how long it will be before they change the name of my college—Elphinstone College that was named after it’s colonial founder and erstwhile Mayor of Bombay, Mountstuart Elphinstone. No doubt it will be named after a current worthy with a tongue-twisting name.
I arrived in Bandra in less than half an hour, looked for an auto rickshaw and arrived at my dad’s place—fare now Rs. 35. When I had last lived in Bombay, it used to cost me no more than Rs. 3.50 and that had seemed like a luxury I could ill afford! However, it was a dream commute as I went from door to door in 50 minutes! That’s why I love the surburban trains in Bombay—had I been on the road, I’d have been sitting in traffic for two hours! Not my idea of fun!
The morning sped past as I help my Dad deal with a form relating to his Gas Company (Mahanagar Gas Ltd). As Dad’s eyesight is now very weak, my job involves reading the fine print to him and helping him fill forms. He then drafts letters to the companies in relation to his issue with them, I type them, save them on my flash drive and take them to the local printing outfit to get him a printout which he then sends to the recipients through courier. As I said before, no one uses the postal service in India anymore for local deliveries. I am slowly coming to grips with the small ways in which life has changed since I left the country. However, the courier service is efficient and inexpensive and one’s work gets accomplished.
My brother Russel then had a visitor, a parishioner named Felcy, who came to see how he was doing. Visiting with her took another half hour. These old-fashioned customs of visiting the sick are alive and kicking in Bombay and Felcy left a nut and raisin cake for Russel that he was delighted to receive. I will slowly be resuming contact and getting to know the people that Dad and my late Mum have called friends for decades.
Next, a messenger was sent to Dad’s home to pick up more identification documents from me to hasten the registration of the studio I will most likely be renting. Hopefully, it will all go smoothly.
I next went off to the SIM card supply man who took all the documents he needs from me (copies of passport, OCI card, photograph, proof of current residence) and sold me a plan by Vodaphone which will be activated in 24 hours. He taught me how to replace my current SIM card (which I shall do tomorrow) and set me up for phone usage for the next 3 months with adequate data availability. I will need to renew the package in 3 months’ time. At Rs. 800, it seemed like a very good deal to me especially as I had unlimited local phone usage (meaning national calls would be free). For an international package, I will need to buy top-up time. It is amazing how I need to learn new local lifestyle conventions with every country in which I live. It is exciting and always seems like a huge adventure to me. With my phone situation sorted, I felt so much more ‘settled’.
Next, I paid a visit to the tiny office of the cable and internet provider who put me very patiently through the paces as he explained the things I would need to buy to set myself up with cable and internet connections once my studio rental goes through. I see that the initial outlay will be quite enormous, but once I have it installed, maintenance charges are probably the cheapest in the world-for the ‘bouquet’ I desire (which includes CNN and BCC). I will be paying about Rs. 350 a month, but payment is made quarterly. Subhash was a pleasure to work with—it was wonderful how clearly he explained to me how such systems work. It is also amazing how ignorant I am about these things and how wonderfully enlightened it feels to come to grips with these technical things.
That sorted,I returned home to a very late lunch with my Dad—it was almost 2.00 pm and he had waited to eat with me! Throughout our meal, Dad talked. It is so clear to me now from where I my chattiness comes! He sorely misses adult company with whom he can have a stimulating conversation. We covered Indian politics, the current prospects of Rahul Gandhi, the demonetization report that has just been completed but not yet revealed to the public, etc. Our meals usually stretch on to a couple of hours.
I then had to excuse myself to go to my bank, State Bank of India, to find out whether a computer glitch that had manifested itself before my departure for China and South Korea had been sorted. And hallelujah! It had! I tested the system out by depositing some cash and when it was accepted in my account by the computer, I could have hugged the clerk.
That done, I returned to Dad’s home across the road to find that he had finished drafting his letters to the gas Company and needed me to type them out for him and get them printed. I did that in the next hour. By that time, I was ready for a cup of tea but I found that there were no lemons at home. I settled for a cup of coffee and cake instead and then readied myself for my departure.
Off to a Birthday Party:
It would be more than 30 years since I have been in Bombay for the birthday party of my high school classmate Marianel and so I made it a point to be there. In the old sprawling Portuguese-style bungalow that her ‘East Indian’ family has called an ancestral home for over a century in Khotachiwadi in Girgaum, the birthdays of neighbors bring the entire neighborhood together. Apart from having about an hour alone with her and fixing the guacamole that she left to me to make, I resumed contact with a number of her neighbors and our school classmates. Marianel is an exceptional home chef and she had spent the day cooking—the table was laden with the delicacies that only her gifted hand can turn out: appetizers included ‘gold coins’ (chicken croquettes), pakoras, tuna fish-filled horns, tortilla chips with said guac. The cold beer with which I was furnished turned warm within ten minutes! (Not that Bombay is hot—in fact, it is very pleasant and I am hardly using the AC in my hotel). On the table were a Fish-Corn Casserole, Mushroom Pullao, Curried Pork, Chicken Wings, Salad, and her specialty Corned Tongue which is one of my favorite things to eat—served with the mustard sauce that she makes from scratch and that is just lovely. For dessert, someone produced a chocolate truffle cake to die for. It was seriously good and appeasing my sweet tooth did not take much persuasion.
It was a lovely way to start my Bombay life—in the company of old friends and making new ones. For I did meet a bunch of folks who were friendly, curious about my current status as a Fulbright Fellow in Bombay, eager to offer tips, friendship and support. There was a newly-published author named Brenda Rodrigues who was passing around a paperback edition of ‘The House at 43 Hill Road’ that has been brought out by Bombay Kala Publishers to which I became introduced for the first time. Another thing I am learning is how much the reading public and publishing opportunities have burgeoned since I last lived in Bombay. It was good to hear that writers have both markets and publishers who show interest in their work.
I had been assured of a ride which was why I did stay as long as I did. By 11. 15, a guest named Karen told me that she could give me a ride as she had a car and a driver. It was a God sent. Girgaum was still buzzing when we left and the streets were still packed with people—what they were doing out at that hour was mysterious to me. Still, I got back to my hotel by 11. 30 and was gallantly escorted to the entrance by Joe, Brenda’s husband.
Back in my room, and finally on WiFi again, I found it that I have a meeting scheduled at St. Xavier’s College tomorrow when I shall meet my supervisor Dr. Pearl Pastakia (whom I happen to know already) and the rest of the personnel who will offer administrative support during my Fulbright stint. Surprisingly still not hit by jet lag but rather tired after all my activities of the day, I went off to bed.
Until tomorrow...
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