Namaste India

This really should have been the first post on my blog, but to quote my favorite author from my favorite book "A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead." And as the tuk-tuk driver had been the impetus to finally publish blog content I will accept that as a first step on a journey with no planned destination. 

So it is sitting here in Jangpura, New Delhi, that I find myself amused by the simplicity of my thoughts when Dimitri, Nicole and I decided to trek across the world for nine months to India. It seemed like such a good idea at the time - who wouldn't want to go to an exotic country filled with historic buildings and inhabited by gorgeous people in bright colorful saris (the women of course - I wasn't quite that ignorant) walking down cobbled roads or across lush lawns staring into the dark handsome countenances of crisp linen clad lovers suddenly spurred to impromptu  song and dance routines. Okay, I confess I might have watched a few too many Bollywood movies in preparation for this adventure, and didn't really expect this vision when arriving at Indira Gandhi Airport, but the huge chromed mudras against the walls of the airport, I was sure, were an auspicious sign (auspicious/inauspicious signs are very important in India ), and leaving the airport in a car that was both air conditioned and could contain our thirteen bulging bags of luggage seemed totally like a  second sign. It's true, this branch of the Putilin family does not travel light, but like the scouts we pride ourselves on always being prepared for every calamity and/or celebration. The rain gently misted on the windshield of the vehicle, we arrived as the monsoon departed ( another auspicious sign?), putting a soft focus filter on our first view of India and New Delhi. Arriving at the beautifully appointed Vandanam bed and breakfast in Safdurjang just made my sleep deprived reverie continue. 

Nicole slept through the night – yet another sign that the pantheon of Hindu gods were pleased at our arrival. The poor girl was so tired after the 14 hour flight from Newark. Coming to think of it though that was the last night in two weeks that we did sleep through the night. Jet lag seems to have a definite equation in India . One person equals a few days of disrupted sleep, a couple equals a few days squared and a couple and a nineteen month old baby a few days cubed. So for the first fourteen nights we seemed to go to bed at three in the afternoon every day, after looking at one after the other rather dreary apartment (or as they call them here "flats"), wake up at seven pm partially comatose, then back to sleep at ten and then play time while eating sweets from the local sweet store from three to five am.

The realtor that had been assigned to us, Kaillash, soon got nicknamed (by us) as "lesser Kaillash" to differentiate him from the posh suburb Greater Kaillash with which he shared only a name and none of its’ impressive attributes. "Lesser Kaillash" might in fact be the worst realtor in New Delhi, if not India, or as we suspect have the most limited property portfolio but a great tactic. First he shows you apartments that make you want to weep- I believe one Fulbrighter did in fact (and not with happiness)- and then springs on you an apartment less dreadful than the rest  and you are so relieved that you jump at the privilege of living in a dark apartment on sticks of furniture and  rush to sign on the line before he threatens to show you the hovel de jour.

The only thing that was more limited than “lesser Kaillash’s” inventory was his ability to speak English. Once while we were looking at yet another dark apartment (one of the more attractive ones – we almost signed on this one) Dimitri went off to buy some water while we waited for the landlord to bring the key to the apartment. Fifteen minutes later my phone rings – Dimitri was lost in the nearby slum and was hoping that “lesser” could lead him back from the local Domino’s Pizza parlor. I asked the realtor if he could take his motorcycle and fetch Dimitri. Total non-comprehension was suddenly etched across his face, next thing he is calling Rohit, our Fulbright facilitator, who then calls me to hear what the problem is. After me telling him , Rohit calls Dimitri for directions and then he calls “lesser” explaining the situation to him. I might have left out a few calls, but it was pretty much a French farce with phone calls instead of closets.

Things to know when dealing with a “Lesser Kaillash” as you might if you win a Fulbright to New Delhi :

1)     Never tell him exactly what your budget is- the same dreary basement apartments will either cost r26 400 ( the Fulbright allowance) or r50 000. Your budget determines what the asking price is;

2)     All apartments are exactly five minutes away from the metro line – when you try walking it will never take less than twenty minutes though;

3)     Working with Lesser you must tell him exactly what you want in an apartment, be very specific even give him a list, he will completely ignore everything you asked for but at least you will feel like you have contributed to the process;

4)     Never tell him you like an apartment but want to see other apartments as your phone will ring at ten pm where you will be told that apartments in Delhi go very quickly so you had better hop on this deal;

After ten days of crawling through a variety of slum tenements throughout Delhi South we found 99acres.com thanks to the Fulbright India facebook page and from there a broker called Dheeraj at Guldshan Properties who spoke English and seemed to have a really good stock of properties on his books. Within three days we found an apartment in Jangpura Ext. and a week later we were living with a roommate in a three bedroomed apartment and we have numerous air conditioners, although the bathroom plumbing either dribbles or explodes or alternates. But that’s just one of the unexpected joys of living in India. If you want Dheeraj’s number just send me a note.

Dheeraj was the total antithesis of Lesser – he even made notarized copies of the apartment lease and raced to deliver them to us at the FRRO offices when we went to register. He bought a remote control for the TV, brought spare sets of the keys, arranged and attended numerous meetings with the landlord. And found an awesome apartment for Fulbright friends in Defense Colony. As you can see we really think Dheeraj is the man.– hmmm I wonder why he never showed us that apartment? 

A month after coming to New Delhi, I have constant noises in my ears like tinnitus, but it’s actually traffic honking for no damn reason or fireworks going off or the security guard patrolling with his whistle (but that’s totally another story), and my feet are constantly doused in urine as I walk to the stores, I have also been offered free clothing if I am willing to have a private measurement session in my apartment, but you know I kind of like India.