The Arrival Lounge

Traveling is almost second nature to me and I was at it again. Just a few minutes before leaving, I did my regular long list of checks- the travel documents are in place, house is all wound up, my dog would be taken care of, the staff will be back on duty at the day of my return and my bags are all packed…

Though exhausted with the whole day of work and then the dreadfully boring flight, I landed at Dubai airport at a little after midnight. I was, at the time, working for CDC in Addis Ababa and was in Dubai for meetings on a multi-million-dollar project being implemented in Pakistan. Sid was to meet me in Dubai. He had traveled from Delhi for another work. We were going to stay together and it obviously brought extra charm to this particular trip. He had informed me of the hotel name and address. (Sid is always particular about details) and had told me that a car would be waiting to pick me up.

So I landed in Dubai, for my first trip to the city, with a sense of purpose and dare I say, pride and self-importance! Late in the night, mine was one of the few flights that had landed and the terminal was somewhat deserted. I moved swiftly towards the immigration desk. I saw big Arab men (there were no women at this hour) in white long gowns and black head-band. Somewhat intimidating! My papers were in order. As he stamped my passport, the officer on the desk asked “Where would you be staying?” I did not recall (it must be the long day!) and said “My husband is coming to pick me up. He’s already here”. The officer gave me a tickled half-smile and let me go! After collecting my bags I looked around for some one with a placard of my name. Among the handful of people, it would have been easy to find, had there been one. So I went to the information counter and asked where people come for pickups. They had a one-word answer: ‘Here’! I thought it was best to call Sid. But my phone did not have international roaming! So I bought a local SIM card. The shopkeeper told me that the SIM would activate in 2 hours. I asked the attendant at the information counter to try and call Sid’s number. He obliged. The phone rang out!

By now, I was rattling my brains for the hotel name. How can I have no documentation of my hotel! Well, that’s because I was going to stay with Sid and he (and his sponsors) was doing all the coordination for the same. I went back to the information desk and explained my situation. The attendant said there was another terminal (old terminal) and often pickups happen there. I would have to go 2 floors up; leave the airport building; take a shuttle to the next terminal; go to the arrivals and check. With no other option in sight, it seemed as the most logical course of action. It was 2 AM now.

I reached the old terminal. It was buzzing with activity. I looked at the arrival area. No one for me! I went to the information counter and explained the situation. They referred me to the Tourist Counter so that I can check some hotels to remember the ‘My Hotel’s’ name. So I picked up some booklets and went through the names carefully. But either the name wasn’t there or it was whitewashed from my memory. With options running out I went back to the information counter, and spoke to another tall white gown and black head-band wearing man. He asked for Sid’s phone number and tried it from his phone. The phone rang out!

He said, leave your luggage (I was carrying a big red suitcase) and come with me. This was scary. I think he saw my hesitation and added, “ I am taking you to some people. If they don’t know ‘your’ hotel, the hotel does not exist”. It was 3 AM. With no alternative, I left my bags at the information counter and went with him. He took me outside the airport into an alley. My heart was pounding. After a few minutes of walk, we were at the Airport Police Office. He talked to the officers in Arabic. I stood looking foolish. After a few minutes of back and forth, the two men suddenly stopped and looked at me. One of them said there was no hotel by the description at the street I was mentioning. Without delay or ado we turned and briskly walked back to the arrival lounge. The information counter guy took me to a cafe and suggested that I wait there till I can call my husband. The café was closed but the chairs were there so I took a seat. My Dubai SIM was working now, so I called Sid’s number. It connected and I heard a ring at the other end. I waited for Sid’s voice with my heart pounding. The phone rang out!

Convinced that his phone would not connect, I took a few minutes to think through any other options. But mostly I wanted a few minutes to calm down and think straight. It occurred to me that all the travel- arrangement correspondence including the hotel bookings were copied to me on email. So I went back to the information counter and asked if there was Internet access at the terminal. They said there was- at the Departures. Departures was on the upper floors and to reach there one would need to get out of the airport take a lift from across the street and then re-enter the airport. So off I went dragging my big red suitcase out of the airport, across the street to the lift and reached the departure area. It was 4 AM.

I headed to the information counter at the departures. It was being manned by a huge humorless Somali woman. I asked her regarding the internet access. She said it’s in the area where only passengers could enter. I explained my plight and without a smile she said, “ leave your luggage here and go in”.  She didn’t seem to care for my luggage and definitely did not show any intention to guard it. I had no choice and moved away without protest. Inside those sacred doors were three computers for internet-access for departing passengers. I logged in to my account and pulled out the travel correspondence. There it was- the name, address and phone number of the hotel typed clearly and simply. Quickly I copied them and called the hotel. The phone rang, my heart pounded as I preyed someone…anyone would pick it up. After three painfully long rings a voice came on the other side. I asked for Sid’s room. He connected immediately. The phone in Sid’s room rang. After four rings I heard Sid’s sleepy voice at the other end. He asked me where I was and what time it was? I ignored his questions. He said he had instructed the concierge desk to send the hotel pickup. After the long grueling day of work he had dozed off in front of the TV. His phone was on the table. I ignored his explanations and asked how far the hotel was from the airport. It was a fifteen minutes drive. He offered to come and pick me up but I told him it was quicker to take a cab. So I bid goodbye to the Stiff Somali woman with heartfelt thanks, took my big red suitcase and went for exit.

Overlooking well-wishers well-meant advice to ‘never-ever sit in a taxi alone in a foreign land’ (not withstanding that it was close to 5 AM) I hopped onto the first cab that came by and told him the address and name of the hotel. The taxi zoomed through the sleepy city. At the hotel reception, I dropped my bags and headed to Sid’s room. Sid opened the door. He was relieved to see me; as I was to see him. He held my hand and led me to the balcony. There stood in front of me the magnificently beautiful Burj Khalifa-the tallest building in the world. I fell into Sid’s arms! Finally my journey was over.

The ‘Bai’ Crisis

Although ‘The Financial Times’ would like you to believe that the modern India is run by the Big Industries, the FDIs and the Financial markets; any regular home-maker would tell you that the wheels of the Urban India are being turned by the (not so) friendly neighborhood ‘Bai’. She rules the heart and mind of the Indian urban women. She throws tantrums that would put young children to shame, would demand praise and attention that would give the mother-in-law stiff competition and if an urban homemaker is waiting for someone in the evening, its most likely her Bai not her husband. When they leave, which they insensitively do, they give you a dirty kitchen and a panic attack. And last week I had, what can be best described as ‘The Bai Crisis’.  This is what happened.

Last Wednesday, my morning started very much as usual.  After the morning rituals of packing Aby to school and then Sid to office, I finally sat with a hot cup of tea waiting for that pleasant ring of doorbell. It was time for my Bai to come and wash, clean and scrub the house till it’s shining brightly. So I waited…and waited. And then I waited a little more. But the bell did not ring. I had a storm of panic building inside of me when finally the bell rang and my Bai arrived. She was in a pesky mood. (They have a way of letting you know-- the door is closed with that extra bang, the utensils in the kitchen make just that extra noise, and they have just that little edge in the answers.)

In any case, I am a veteran at employing and managing Bais so I picked up the signs immediately and started doing a cause-action analysis. Is this because of the extra-washing I made her do; is this the beginning of the pitch to raise pay or are there other deeper darker unknown reasons? I definitely did not want to know. So I decided to treat her to breakfast and tea. That thawed the mood temporarily only. Soon I got tired and wondered why I should be pampering her without any reason and I stopped. Things then took a turn for the worse and this led to an offensive cold war.  During the next few days, I figured that she had picked up 2 more jobs. Although I was still paying her more than the 2 new jobs combined, she had this ‘ I don’t give a damn’ attitude for my job. Now, I liked this woman and did not want to loose her. She, in past, had been loyal, with decent work performance. Any one would tell you that’s rare to come by. So somehow I had to salvage the situation and that required thought and strategy.

The management of Bais requires as much strategy and diplomacy as is required to untangle the Kashmir issue. With both parties adamant on their own skewed perspectives, the standoffs require as much agility and manipulation as the bureaucracy requires while preparing the Lokpal bill.

After much thought and contemplation, I came up with a two-step strategy.

Step One: Show of Power: The next day I sounded off the guards and neighbors that I need a new Bai.  (remember that the Bais are as well networked as some of us on face book. They know every thing about everybody, so I assume that my Bai came to know about my search immediately).

In a couple of days I got a good contender to replace her. I told her I would like to see her work for a few days. She agreed and next morning there she was- for all to be seen-especially my ‘full of attitude’ Bai. Although I said nothing, I did see a slight sense of insecurity. Just what I wanted!

Step Two: Diplomacy and Negotiations: Then came the day of ‘across-the-table’ talk. So I called my Bai after she finished her work, gave her breakfast and tea and then was about to initiate the conversation, when she said, “ Didi, I left my other jobs. I get very tiered, I would rather just do our work.” I told her I was concerned for her well-being and value her loyalty. And so was thinking of increasing her salary. Thank you didi, aap kitne aachhe ho! Hum apne ghar ko khub sundar banayeinge (referring to my house); apne bagiche mein phul wale paudhe lagaynge….And she was back to her zealous self.

At the end, I did increase her salary by a substantial amount but then I bought peace of mind, loyalty and devotion- all expensive items in today’s world. But mostly I avoided a ‘Bai Crisis’- for now.

Almost Homeless!

While most of us are informed casually about a change in address and we absent-mindedly edit details or simply store the new business cards on our phones there is a painfully satirical drama that played out in my life when my address changed this time!

Last week we changed our address. But the matter begins some three months ago when we were notified that the apartment we were living in- had to be vacated. And before I narrate the havoc that played in our lives, let me tell you that I lived in one of the prettiest apartments to be found- wallpapers and concealed lighting; wooden floorings and sunny mornings, overlooking the children's park and the swimming pool. On the fifth floor- not too high for alto phobia and not too low to be disturbed by the chaos on the ground! It was a real delight. 

So the search began! With Sid having little time from work, I took it upon myself to find us a new heaven. It seemed simple enough. I wanted another apartment in the same society just like the one I was living in. I had only two conditions: one that the apartment should not have offensive interiors; second that it should be facing the children’s park. I promptly called a few property agents and got them on the task. Soon enough they came with several options- big and small; high and low and wanted me to visit all of them.

Through the days and weeks, I visited a few dozen apartments. But non was 'perfect' and hence were promptly and un-regrettably rejected. While I refused to compromise on my standards, the deadline of vacating our current address moved speedily closer. With only a few weeks left I had occasional moments of panic and I wondered if there was another house that I would really like; if I should pull a scheme for making residents of more suitable apartments vacate; if I should have bought the apartment I was currently residing in! This had turned into a marathon that gave me both heartache and heartache.

Then suddenly, I saw a house that seemed perfect. On the second floor-perfect for Aby to run up and down, with a spacious living area-perfect to host our dinner parties, huge airy balconies -to see the world go by while sipping hot evening tea and overlooking the children’s park. Perfect. With three days remaining for shifting-home, I called the agent, told him this was ‘The One’. I heard a sense of relief and accomplishment in his voice. Finally he was able to satisfy his most fussy customer. I connected with Sid. We were to do the paperwork immediately. The cleaning-painting-maintenance work on the property began in full swing. Sid spoke to the owners and all was well. Almost time for me to bask in the glory of my accomplishments!

Two days before the move I was looking through the papers for movers & packers when I received a call from Sid. From his dead serious tone, I knew something was really, really wrong. He put it simply without drama or fuss. That house is not available. Instantly I realized the ramifications while trying to bottle up my panic. Where from will I get a house in 1 day. Will I pitch a tent in the children’s park? Should I have taken up some less worthy house earlier? Should I call the owners and beg them to let it out? I did not know. My eyes were blurred and so was my mind. I looked at all the furniture in my house and wondered where I could dump it at a day’s notice. Then I looked at Aby’s face- happy and worry-free, enjoying his day as usual.

At that instant I realized there was no time for regrets and reassessments. I picked up my phone and called one of the agents. I spoke to him about an apartment he wanted us to take but at the time, I was not so interested. But today I was! Interesting how perspectives change depending on your circumstances! He told me that the contract for that one is being signed the same evening. Some how I convinced him to get that house for us and some how, miraculously- he managed it for us- all in one evening.

This was a ground floor with a private garden overlooking a quite quaint patch of greenery. With mornings filling two of the three bedrooms with bright sunlight, and sweet friendly neighbors. But it was far from the children’s park (read: we could not see the park and it is a 40 second walk). This was not my home of choice. It was a compromise. I hated it and I hated God for putting me here. But time for such emotional revolts was later. The night fell and we were shifting home next morning.

While we were still adjusting our things we saw that Aby’s friends would climb up my boundary wall/railing and get through the bedrooms to play with Aby. The quaint quite patch of greenery was alive with Aby’s friends. It was as if the children’s park moved with us! I was delighted. On some days the sheets, pillows and blankets of Aby’s room are to be found in the gardens outside as the children had their picnics and play. I decided to do something with the garden in my new home too. So apart from the green grass, it has carrots, spinach and mint. 

Finally I found a perfect home- for now!