life in bengaluru

I have become a Bangalore vaasi for the last few months. The timing was perfect;just managed to escape the Chennai summer.For the last few weeks enjoying the cloudy ,chilly winds blowing and an occasional thunder storm. It is anybody's bet if there will be rain in the evening. For a few hours the sun comes out and then from nowhere dark clouds quickly gather in the horizon to drive away the sun and heat and pour welcome showers on us.

While the weather is welcome, some of the service providers are proving elusive and manage to pack our lives with fun and frolic.

I was expecting the istiri wallah to land up at my door and collect clothes for ironing. This is what happens when a newcomer takes up residence in Chennai. But days went by and nobody surfaced. I asked the apartment watchman to send the istiri fellow to my flat. He agreed and gave me a mobile number. I should call him when I needed him, he said. Well fine, I needed him now and I called him. By the way he lives just across the street and took four days and five reminders later to arrive and collect a sack full of clothes. He brought them back in a couple of hours but then he has disappeared from the face of the earth since then for the last few weeks. I I have located a laundry shop in the neighbourhood and have got into a weekly ritual of dropping off clothes on saturdays and picking them up on sunday mornings. By the way last weekend, he did not deliver all the clothes as promised and asked us to come on Sunday evening.We were busy on sunday evening, so when I made a beeline to the shop on Monday, it is CLOSED!I used to make such a fuss with the istiri lady who used to come at our convenience and to our house everyday, and here I am paying penalty for such an attitude.

Old newspapers need to be disposed off, period. It used to be a straightforward affair, as one vendor used to call out everyday for old newspapers and would be making rounds on his tricycle, with reams of rope and scores of gunny bags and a scale. Here in Bangalore such a thing does not happen. I see any number of shops stacked high with old newspapers and doing roaring business, but no, they will not fetch it from your doorstep. All the thrill of sitting down in front of the month old newspapers and haggling for price and watchful that you are not cheated on weight n was missing. With lot of influence of the watchman, managed to get one vendor to come home. He came with no tools and bare hands and calm demeanour. He looked at the pile of old newspapers as though he is seeing them for the first time in his life and sat down comfortably to fold them neatly and arrange them. I gasped. I asked him for his scales. He was shocked. He said they are in his shop and they weigh a ton and obviously cannot bring them to the flat. How are you going to weigh these papers I asked him. He said he will take it with him, weigh it in his shop and send the money to the watchman! We dont cheat madam, you have to have trust in us, he said. He had not brought any ropes to tie the newspapers and asked me if i have any spare 'twine thread' with me. I said no, I dont have twine thread. He continued to stack the papers neatly. I asked him how he is going to carry them. He said you must be having a big plastic bag madam, please give it to me, I will return it along with the money.

He left with my newspapers and my bag. Nothing happened for the next couple of hours. In the evening when I was on my walk, the watchman quietly thrust a fifty rupee note and took leave. No the big plastic bag did not come back.

I had seen a beauty parlour very near to our complex and enquired with a neighbour if I can trust my hair styling with them. She said yes, go ahead. So I went to get my hair trimmed. The artist was alone and jobless when I went one evening. She sat me down and started for the U cut. It took exactly 3 minutes and then she gave me a comb and asked me to comb my hair myself! She did not have a mirror to show me how my hair looked after the expert job. I asked her to spray my hair to give it a bouncy look and do back combing.This is my regular routine in chandinesree. She looked at me and said no, no spray and okay she will do backcombing if that is what I want. Not a pleasant encounter if we have to go and comb our hair ourselves!

I was truly perplexed at these encounters but in a city like Bangalore you take it in your stride and not get all worked up!