By Åsa Montpaz
Estelle was laying down on her
yoga mat watching the ceiling fan’s rhythmical spinning while listening to
sounds from outside their house. The streets of Vasant Vihar were slowly
getting ready for a new day. She heard voices, barking dogs and honking
rickshaws. The intensity was yet to begin.
“Madam, Madam, there is someone at
the door,” Sabeena called from the hallway.
“Who is it?” Estelle asked and
went to the door.
“Some people are here to repair
the internet and Cable-TV.”
“Ok, let them in and I’ll be there
in a minute.”
Estelle changed into something more
presentable than her sweaty hot pants and short top that she had worn during
her daily yoga practice. She grabbed a wrinkled batik tunic with matching
pants. When she came out, the Cable guys were waiting in the hall.
“Good morning, Madam. We got a call
from your husband yesterday about a problem with the Internet and Cable-TV
connection,” said one of the men dressed in black trousers that had been cut
too short, and a knitted brown and orange jumper. There were four other men
standing beside him and they stared at her as if she was from another planet.
“Yes, the internet and Cable TV stopped
working yesterday morning.”
“Don’t worry Madam, we’ll fix it. I need to go
up and check on the roof,” he said. Yes of course they needed to go up on the
roof. She knew that already because it wasn’t the first time they had come to
fix the problem this month, neither the second nor the third.
“Sabeena, can you show them the
way up to the roof please?”
“Yes, Madam.” Sabeena rushed out
of the kitchen.
‘Challo!’ She commanded in
Hindi and the men followed her.
Estelle went back into her bedroom
to take a shower. As she entered the bathroom she watched her body in the newly
polished mirrors with a content smile. The months of daily yoga practice had
given her the result she wanted. Her love handles were almost gone. She felt
good, and started to hum as she turned on the water and waited for the water to
get hot.
“It’s raining Men Hallelujah it’s
raining Men,” her singing intensified. The mirror got all foggy and when she
couldn’t see her dancing body any longer she was ready to step into the shower.
She was just about to put her foot into the pink bathtub but pulled it back
quickly.
“Aaaah!” She screamed. In the
bathtub were four cockroaches as big as rats, staring at her. She grabbed a
towel.
“Sabeena!”
Luckily she had someone to take
care of the cockroaches for her, because that was more than she could handle.
Estelle was laying on her bed
relaxed after the cockroach incident, sipping on a fresh fruit and veggie juice.
She browsed through an old Swedish newspaper that her husband had brought home
from the embassy the day before.
There was an article about the
Swedish crown princess’s wedding plans. Estelle smiled at the news. The
princess’ boyfriend had been her former personal trainer and a gym owner. The
Swedish people loved the fairytale of a traditional princess marrying a man
from the ordinary people.
Estelle started to daydream about
her trip back home to Sweden, about the food like whole wheat bread, tasty cheeses,
fresh butter, Swedish salt licorices and chocolate. It made her mouth water.
She was looking forward to seeing her friends, even though the main reason for
the trip was to get their house rented out.
It was time to start packing since
she was leaving tomorrow but she always found reasons not to pack her bags
until the last minute. Tonight they were invited to their driver Asuman’s home
to celebrate his 21th birthday together with his family.
“Madam, Madam.” Sabeena knocked on
the door.
“Yes.”
“The cable guys are done and they
want to talk to you.”
“Ok I’m coming,” she said.
The man in the brown and orange
jumper looked a bit ragged. His face was pouring with sweat. His long brown
piano fingers were holding a form in his hands which he wanted her to sign but
she insisted on checking that everything was working first. As she switched on
her computer she felt a current coming down her arm.
“Auch!” she said.
She turned to the man and asked.
“Why do I get an electrical shock
when I use the computer and other electrical devices?”
“Yes, yes, Madame, no problem,” he
said as if he couldn’t care less or didn’t understand her worries. His
assistants behind him were now staring at her with open mouths.
There was internet connection and
she was eager to check her e-mails. She logged in to her Hotmail account.
“Madam ok? Internet ok? No
problem?”
“Yes it’s ok,” she mumbled as she
opened an email from her best friend who wanted to know her arrival time two
days later in Sweden. She wrote a quick reply saying that she would be busy
during the first few days with her house but after that she would be available
to see her.
“Madam, everything ok? He
repeated.
“Oh sorry. Yes everything seems to
work nicely,” she said. “But you need to show me how the Cable TV works. We can’t
find the international channels which we’re paying for.”
She handed over the remote control
and he started to flick through the channels. His assistants stopped staring at
her and shifted their attention to the TV. He kept showing her the different channels
and soon the men were all hypnotized by the television.
“This channel is very good, they
show movies from Bollywood,” he said. ‘Don’t all channels do that,’ she
thought.
They all laughed at a scene in the
movie. A man in classic Santa suit who slipped on the stairs in front of a
group of young women dressed in saris.
“Do you know Shah Rukh Khan?” He
pointed to the actor who just slipped on the stairs in the movies. “He’s a
great actor and dancer,” he said.
It really wasn’t funny but she
felt as if she was hosting a movie night and the only thing missing was warm
popcorn and drinks.
“Sorry, but can you please show me
the international channels?” She asked but the men kept starring at the TV.
“The International channels!” She
repeated.
“Oh, yes Madam no problem, just a
moment.”
He finally let go of the Bollywood
movie and showed her the location of the International channels starting from
channel 850 and on. So that was why Estelle and her husband could never find
them. They had given up long before browsing through hundreds of channels
displaying miming and dancing Indian men with mustaches and pretty women in
colorful saris pretending life was a big musical.
When the jumper man handed over
the remote control, he stroked the backside of his hand on her breast. It took
her by surprise, she wasn’t sure if it was intentional or an accident but
either way it left her with a bitter taste in her mouth.
Estelle took the flower bouquet
and the woolen sweater that was wrapped up in golden paper and went out the
door to meet up with her husband who was waiting in the car. As she walked down
the stairs from their apartment the warm humid air mixed with the fumes from Mrs.
Singh’s dinner preparation, reminded her empty stomach that she hadn’t eaten
anything since lunchtime. It smelled delicious.
Down at the gate Shawla, their
guard, greeted her with a big smile.
“Good evening Madam.” He closed
the gate behind her and ran to open the passenger door.
“Hi honey,” she said and kissed
her husband on his dry lips.
“How was your day at work?” She
asked.
“Ok,” he mumbled busy with his
phone. “I still have to make some calls, write an email to the foreign
ministry, and talk to the Landlords about…”
“Oh come on! It’s Friday and I’ve
been waiting for your company all week,” Estelle said and took his face in her
hands, smiled at him and kissed him again. But this time she didn’t let go of
him as fast.
“Good evening Madam and Sir.”
Asuman said as he jumped into the front seat, ready to take them to his house.
“Hi Asuman, Happy birthday!” She
said and handed over the flowers and the golden wrapped gift.
“Thank you very much, Madam.”
The car rolled smoothly into the
chaotic streets of New Delhi. Estelle loved looking out the car window, there
was always something new and interesting to see. She saw entire families on
motorbikes, skinny cows, rickshaws, people eating food and drinking chai teas,
overcrowded buses, more people just sitting down watching other people, fabrics
in beautiful colors, men walking holding hands and children playing.
When they stopped at a traffic
light, beggars surrounded the car. Some days she ignored them and other days
she couldn’t stop herself from giving away all her bills and coins. She saw a
young girl, maybe four years old, with a little naked baby hanging on her hip,
she wore threadbare, no shoes and had matted hair. They were walking around in
the traffic, begging for money and food. Estelle took out her purse and handed
over a bill to Asuman who immediately understood what to do and handed it to
the girl.
Her husband said, “They’re just
too many of them in this country, I can never get used to it.” She knew exactly
what he meant, the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness.
“I hate watching this bloody mess.
It’s like living in hell,” he continued.
Estelle took his hand in hers and
the rest of the drive they just stayed silent.
“Ok. We need to park the car here
to get to my house,” Asuman said. He jumped out and opened the door to let them
out. It was in the middle of a market place with hordes of people, cows and
strong odors.
“Do you live here?” Estelle said
and looked around.
“No, we have to walk through the
market to get to my house, Madam.”
The marketplace was full of
activity and some of the vendors stopped in the middle of a deal just to watch
them pass. They followed Asuman through the crowd. She could tell by his bouncy
way of walking, swinging his skinny arms high like a happy child, that he was
in a good mood. Estelle was intrigued to meet his family that she heard many
stories about. Eventually they arrived at a grey building. Asuman turned around
and gave them one of his big blinding smiles.
“This is where I live, on the
second floor.”
When they walked up the stairs
there were people everywhere, looking out through doors and windows, smiling,
waving and greeting them. They noticed that it got darker and darker as they
entered the building. When they reached his apartment he told them that there
was no electricity at present but hopefully it would come back soon. Estelle
had almost forgotten how it was for the majority of the population in India,
since the embassy had installed a big generator as a back up for all the
blackouts that went on every day in their building as well.
“Come on in,” he said and pointed
his skinny arm into a dark room.
They were welcomed by a man and women
sitting on the sofa.
“These are my mom and dad,” Asuman
said.
It was hard to see their faces in
the dark but after a while they lit a few candles and her eyes got accustomed
to the gloominess and she could see more and more details in the apartment.
There were a lot of icons of the different Hindu Gods hanging on the walls and
they had a miniature temple in a corner close to the kitchenette. Smoke from
the lighted incense in the temple moved slowly through the apartment and made
Estelle feel calm and peaceful.
After some time, Asuman’s brother
and girlfriend showed up with food from McDonald’s. Estelle felt embarrassed.
She knew that he would have spent a large part of his salary on food from
McDonald’s because he believed that that was what they wanted to eat.
They ate together in the darkness
and talked about Asuman’s desire to marry his girlfriend but this was creating
problems for them because she was from a higher caste than him.
Estelle had a hard time understanding
and accepting the caste system. She had once told her maid Sabeena about the
time when she was a student and had worked as a baby sitter, a waitress and
even a cleaner at a hotel to get money. Sabeena did not believe her. In India
everything was different. According to the cast you get from birth, from your
parents, you can only do certain types of jobs. It dictates where you live and
who you can marry. Once you work as a cleaner, you will always clean, at least
during this life.
Asuman’s brother served birthday
cake and warm sweet chai tea in small cups. It was a memorable evening in the
gloominess and Estelle was overwhelmed by the generosity of Asuman’s family.
They bid farewell and as they walked down the stairs the lights came back,
taking them by surprise.
“Ah electricity is back, perfect
timing!” Asuman said and the three of them laughed. The only trace left from
their visit was their laughter echoing in the grey building.
Estelle was packing her suitcase.
She didn’t like packing, being forced to choose what to take and not to take.
She always ended up with an overloaded suitcase, realizing she had packed for a
month when she was going to be away for only a week.
“Madam, Madam. Ashok is here.”
Sabeena knocked on her door.
“Ok, let him in and show him the
broken lamps in the bathroom and kitchen please.”
“Yes Madam.”
Ashok was the light bulb man from
the embassy. He came once a week to change any broken bulbs. When Estelle first
arrived in India she thought her husband was joking when he told her Ashok’s
job was to change light bulbs.
“I’ve been changing light bulbs
all my life. How damned difficult can it be?” Estelle said and climbed a chair
in the hallway and before she knew it the whole lamp fell down from the ceiling
exposing four cables, like little worms looking at her curiously.
When everything was packed and
ready, she went to the dining room. Sabeena had prepared a delicious lunch for
her and then left for her daily break. Estelle liked having the apartment to
herself even if it was only for an hour. Soon I’ll be back in Sweden she
thought. It made her smile and once again her thoughts moved to her favorite
foods and the sweets she was going to feast on.
Ding dong, the doorbell rang.
“Who is there?” She asked. No
answer.
“Hallo, who is there?” She
repeated, but still no answer.
She opened the door slowly and
outside in the stairwell stood the old gardener, Anantha, who had come to water
the balcony plants. He was a happy man and to Estelle he looked to be 100 years
old. He reminded her of a baby bird all, skinny and fragile. He had watered
plants in the building since decades back and telling him to stop doing so
wasn’t an option when they moved in, even though she could easily do it
herself. It was a matter of supporting this humble man to get some food for the
day.
Asuman drove Estelle to the airport
in the late afternoon. On the way she got a text from her husband,
‘Have a safe trip
home. I’m really sorry that I can’t be with you on your special day but I
promise to make it up to you as soon as you’re back. I Love you! Peter’
Peter was working really hard to
prepare for the Swedish prime minister’s visit to India.
She felt sad that he couldn’t come
with her this time but it was only for a week and she´d be busy getting their
house in order for leasing.
Indira Gandhi international
airport was always full of people and many of them were running around like
lost tourists. She had read in the Times of India that more than fifty percent
of Indian travelers were flying for the first time ever.
Luckily passport control and
security check were both swift. When she arrived at her gate she sat down
beside a family of four. The father spoke in English with his family and he
soon included Estelle in their conversation.
He asked a lot of questions about
her nationality, where she was traveling to, why she was traveling alone, if
she was married, what her husband’s profession was and if she had any children.
She politely replied to all his questions but after a while she took out her
book in order to get some time to herself.
The man appeared not to have
understood her intention and invited her to try his homemade vegetarian samosas
that his cross-eyed wife had made earlier that day. Estelle took one, after all
she was a bit hungry and although it was very hot and spicy, she ate it. Soon
she felt her face go red and her mouth burned. She looked for her water bottle
and remembered that she left it at the security check.
Estelle arrived at
Stockholm-Arlanda airport after a dazed journey home. She got stomach cramps
during the flight, which had made her use the airplane toilet frequently. At
one point she gave up and decided to just stay in the toilet, until a Steward
banged on the door calling out that there was a long line of people waiting to
use the toilet.
As she walked out through the
sliding glass doors, a cool wind wiped over her body. It felt welcoming and it
was great to inhale the fresh crisp air. She waved down a taxi driver and
within a couple of minutes they were on their way to her house. As she leaned
back in the car her stomach began to cramp again and she knew she needed to go
to the bathroom. She calmed herself with the thought of arriving home, and that
she could finally use her own clean and spacious bathroom.
Estelle was looking through the
car window. She saw trees, grass and the bushes that were beautifully colored
in rich greens. Observing the fat healthy cows and horses munching on the lush
pastures was a big contras to the skinny cows in the middle of Delhi’s chaotic
traffic jams. In Sweden the drivers were predictable and well organized. Coming
home from traveling was always like putting on a new pair of glasses and
discovering her home from a different point of view. Things that she had always
taken for granted had with time, become like precious stones.
Once again her stomach cramped but
this time she had to use all her forces to hold everything back. She leaned
forward to hug her knees tightly. That really helped release the tension in her
belly.
“Are you okay?” Asked the taxi
driver looking at her through the rear-view mirror.
“I’m fine thank you. Just a little
bit tired after the trip,” she said with a crooked smile on her lips.
Soon she saw the sign ‘Brommaplan,’
which meant that they were getting closer to her house. They drove off the
freeway. Estelle was praying intensely that the traffic would run smoothly, and
luckily it was.
When she arrived home, she paid
the taxi driver, took her luggage and walked as fast as she could to the gate.
She noticed that the gate was open but she kept moving towards the main
entrance. She was just waiting for the next stomach cramp, which could come any
minute.
As she pulled out her keys she
looked towards one of the windows and she thought she saw the curtain moved
slightly. She told herself that she was just tired after the trip and that she
needed to rest. She opened the main door, left the luggage just in front of it
and didn’t even bother to close it behind her.
She walked quickly towards the
bathroom door. She saw the curtain moving out of the corner of her eye and she
heard a funny noise. Her stomach cramped as she grasped the bathroom door
handle.
“SURPRISE!” said a big horde of
people as the music from her stereo played “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday…”
She turned around to meet all
those familiar smiling faces and all she could do was to give her distorted
smile back while she felt something warm slushy running down her legs.
