Meredith and I taking escooty out for his first journey out after rebirth.
If you
have talked to me recently you'll know that I've had more than a few things
weighing down on my head - nothing too serious but rather long drawn out
processes that were driving me a little batty.
First and foremost was of course the ridiculous fight over my visa
renewal which has made some recent headway and is now sitting at the
Collector's Office in Madurai. Only I'm
not allowed to have it yet.
I'm not
actually sure why I can't but according to the lady I spoke with she needs to
make copies. And then mail it to me -
rather than of course simply handing it to me when I went in to speak with
her. This was of course before she
chewed me out for going over their heads and speaking with the police
department in Chennai despite the fact that it took them 3 months to get in
touch with me and when they did, told me to contact Chennai as they had all my
paperwork. Of course as soon as I did
that Chennai then redirected me back to Madurai. But whatever, it's not like I'm holding a
grudge or anything silly like that.
My point
is that by now I'm used to nothing going quite as simply as it should nor going
the way I expect it to. If I want
something to get done I probably have to contact a minimum of 3 people first
and then wait for at least a month before 30% of the task has been
completed. Then if I get lucky a few
weeks later there might finally be some progress. Even the small task of having a mattress
taken out of my room has yet to be completed.
So now I have an extra bed outside my room that's been sitting there for
about 3 days now. I'm not upset about it
- it's not my mattress so what do I care of cockroaches decide to take up
residence inside it, just trying to give an impression of the pace of life
here.
Now
comes the story of India handing me a break and it all starts with the Shansi
scooter. When my scooter (re-christened
'escooty') started to give me trouble I tried desperately to stick my head in
the sand like an ostrich and deny the fact that there was anything wrong with
it. Accepting I needed to get it checked
out meant a new uphill battle to add to my already large pile. I had to first
find someone who would help me navigate the city for a place that fixes
two-wheelers - then I would have to
entrust my dear escooty over to a stranger in the hopes they didn't forget
about it in a dust pile somewhere.
There
was also the added problem that I had to wait until after Diwali holidays
because there was no one on campus who I could ask for help. Finally when people did trickle back in I
decided to take the plunge and accept that once I handed the keys over I would
be sans transportation for most likely 2 months. My fears were confirmed when the campus staff
directed me towards the same man who has been helping me with my visa - the
same man who I have to call 3 times a day to remind him that I'm still
technically hiding out illegally in India for the past 3 months.
Jazmin,
I thought to myself, prepare yourself for half a year of depending on surly
auto drivers who may or may not just been having a drink at the local tasmac
bar.
What
happened next is, in my mind, the miracle of all miracles. I can't think of it in any other way besides
that India decided to throw me a bone.
This story, rather than being another rant, is one of how Madurai crept
back into my heart and took me by surprise.
Now in
order to set the scene I have to explain just what was wrong with my
scooter. I could tell the tires were a
little low although I noticed the steering was also quite jerky. I hoped this was all due to flat tires but
inside I was terrified that I had somehow broken the Shansi Fellow's prized possession. But I kept that all tucked away and instead
brought it to the gas station with a friend who was visiting so the tires could
be filled up.
Imagine
my shock when the attendant at the air pump told me that my front tire had been
punctured. On the one hand I was
somewhat relieved because at least I knew what was wrong but on the other hand
I wasn't sure where this left me. For
the time being I decided going back to campus was the best and only option as I
still didn't know where to take it.
Of course
this had to be the time when scooty decided it could no longer carry two people
any longer - in fact couldn't even make it a block without me knowing there
would be no more driving after this. Due
to this minor oversight both my friend Meredith and I (two very obvious
Americans) were pushing a scooter by the side of a very busy road with probably
every pair of eyes focused on us. I had
sweat dripping down my face and was barely halfway back to the campus before I
started praying my arms would last that long pushing this behemoth.
Just as
I was losing hope that I would get out of this with my dignity, out of the
corner of my eye I saw a man waving me over.
Part of me wondered whether I should just keep going or turn my head and
acknowledge his presence - but of course he didn't give me the option. His waving became more obstinate and soon his
shouts in Tamil got to the point where I'm pretty sure we had everyone's
attention.
Not
knowing what to expect I unceremoniously shoved my scooty to the opposite side
of the street where there was nothing but a dusty tea stall and some autos
lined up with the drivers sleeping inside.
Hiding behind an array of motorcycles and their owners who were sipping
tea and discussing the afternoon news was a scraggly looking older man who
carried a box of tools with him.
After a
few minutes of broken Tamil on my part it became clear that these men not only
knew immediately what was wrong with my scooty but also assured me they could
fix it in an hour. For a mere 400
Rupees. How could I say no? Yet I almost walked away - it all sounded too
good to be true and I was not about to let someone pull the wool over my eyes
yet again.
But then
I thought, why not? If I left it up to
the campus management I wouldn't see my dear escooty for another few
months. However, if I made the call by
myself I might only have to part with my friend for a sole hour. The answer was obvious - throw caution to the
wind and leave it here on the side of this dusty road with just one man and his
seemingly small tool box while I took Meredith downtown.
Of
course being the worrier that I am, I could barely contain my anxiety at what
state I would come back to find my scooty.
Sure enough after an hour I noticed both wheels had come off (a sight
that nearly made me cry) - turns out there was a tear in each tire meaning both
had to be replaced. After waiting for
another 30 minutes I joyously watched as escooty was reborn with two new fully
pumped tires - the relief that washed over me was so great in fact that I
wanted to run up to this random old guy and give him a huge kiss on the
cheek. Except that I was in Madurai and
that might certainly give my new savior a heart attack if not make a few
stalkers out of the tea drinkers standing nearby.
Instead
I settled on giving him a nice tip and walked away spouting as many thank-you's
as I could manage. In just a mere two
hours Madurai had turned me into a believer yet again - I was like a love-sick
heroine in a Tamil film, singing down the road practically throwing flowers at
every stranger I met. Instead of 3-4
months of anxiously waiting for positive results I had the seemingly difficult
issue of getting new tires fixed within two hours - next to a tea stall of all
places! It never ceases to amaze me the
things that you can get fixed by the side of the road whether it be shoes or
tires; you name it and there's someone who can mend it. What would surely cost upwards of $200 and
take at least a day in the U.S., merely takes 2 hours and $10 to get done here
in dusty ol' Madurai. It's truly days
like this where I can re-don my rose tinted glasses and walk around the city
with nothing but admiration.
This may
not be as large of an accomplishment as getting my visa procured but to me it
was possibly the best gift anyone could give me for Christmas this year. So long as I have escooty and the random
stranger (who legitimately doesn't want to screw me over) that rescues me from embarrassing
public displays of sweaty failure, I'm sure I'll be alright.
