She has a four year old son you see, and he likes to eat his lunch sitting on the dry balcony. My underwear, specifically my bras, flapping on the line several yards away on the opposite balcony have caused some awkward moments between mother and son. He's four years old, much too young to understand that women are anatomically different from men.
This kid incidentally is the same one who canters around on our landing in just a kurta, flashing anyone he sees. Now does that seem like the product of a repressed environment or what?
But anyway, back to the underwear issue. She suggested two approaches:
1. Dry my underwear inside. Not sure where exactly inside refers to, the word she used was andhar. That's where she dries her underwear. Andhar apparently is where no four year old can go. (Really? There are places like that inside a modest 2BHK?)
2. Screen my underwear by hanging a sheet on the parallel line. Here's my question: if you have a problem with it, why don't you screen your balcony from everyone's offending laundry?
The fact is that although I had several excellent points to make regarding the psychological damage to her son, the benefit of drying clothes in sunlight and my general dislike of people who tell me what to do, I was unable to articulate any of them. She speaks only Hindi and though I could understand her perfectly, I could not respond. After several attempts to reassure her that the look on my face was not incomprehension, but pent-up inarticulation, I launched into what was unfortunately the argument closer: Mein samajh sakti hoon, lekin mujhe accha nahi lagta ki aap ye bol rahe hain.
She turned around and stalked back to her apartment. And I had so much to say to her!
But the point is that this is a situation I'm frequently in. I'm unable to articulate brilliantly thought out arguments to scamming auto drivers, inept plumbers and interfering neighbours. I would like to explain to scamming auto drivers just why their overcharging me is bad for the environment and economy, but instead I find myself relying on chor! tera din kharab hoga!
So this is what I do. Every Saturday morning, instead of sleeping in, I go to the neighbouring government school and teach a bunch of kids English. In the hope that one day, if we ever have an argument, the advantage will be mine.
9 comments:
This is why you should have the pomegranate phone.
Failing which, keep a translator on speed dial. I'd be happy to do it. It'd be like a dream come true, being able to rant at random people and not having to worry about the consequences :P
As to the neighbor's kid, he has to grow up eventually. I recommend a visit to Victoria's Secret this weekend. :P
@Shazz : Dude he's 4 years old! I think corporate life has turned you into a twisted old man.
hahahaha...nice...i thought you were friends with your neighbour though...flash her kid...then theres no confusion:-)
@adi - I'm telling her to visit victoria's secret, and you think i'm a twisted old man? :P
@Shaz I might just take you up on this.. be prepared for random calls beginning with 'Now say this...'
And as the majority seems to be in favour of the rapid education of the kid... that's what I'm going with...
@Shaz BE PREPARED
@vivace - always ready babe.
Oh wait, you mean the translation or victoria's secret? :P
you're my pomegranate phone, shaz! one fictional thing at a time...
:D :D Deal!
My! I totally sympathise, having met similar undie observing Samaritans myself. A woman on a Chennai street, a complete stranger, once followed me some 100 meters and caught up with me to tug my kurta down, from its bunched up location behind my backpack. And then looked like she expected me to bow deeply and thank her for her magnanimous gesture.
And the autodrivers. All those fantastic responses I compose need to be written down so that I don’t resort to kutte kameeney gadhe repeatedly.
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