From Dreams to Bitter Realities to a Pleasant Day

Therefore Mumbai, being the city I loved, was the first choice, but the attractions of Mumbai had begun to fade over the years. The time to go from point A to point B had trebled in the last ten years. The traffic was impossible, the humidity killing, and the roads disgusting. Moreover all one could get for a small fortune was a small, cramped apartment.

Settling there seemed to be an unappetizing prospect. Pune was never on the horizon and never considered. It was only while making one of my half hearted searches for property in Mumbai on the net that I found a site that also had listings for apartments in Pune, the descriptions were interesting, and allured I began a year long odyssey on the net for a place to live.

The more I read, the more desirable the prospect looked. This ‘Queen of the Deccan’, sitting pretty among the Sahyadris, was an enticement to eyes that had longed to look at mountains and greenery. Sobriquets like ‘Oxford of the East’ increased its appeal, after all education was the prime reason for moving. The many apartment complexes on sites like punerealestate.com, offered every convenience we were used to, and much more. The tree lined avenues, 40% of the land under green cover, proximity to places like Panchgani, Khandala, even the Konkan, added to the charm. Mumbai was a short distance away, and the expressway a dream to travel upon. We would not be ensconced right in the lap of the family, yet would be close enough to spend week ends with them. Its centralized location made Pune seem like the perfect spot from which paths spread out to innumerable exciting destinations. Visions of adventures and discoveries began dancing before my eyes. I felt God was guiding me.

Finally I settled on one apartment complex, after scrutinizing almost a dozen, day after day. When we reached Bombay that summer of 2003, early one morning my girls and I took a taxi and drove down to Pune, without informing a soul. The complex did not disappoint for it was all that it promised to be on the net. The buildings and landscaped gardens were aesthetically designed, but it was the sugarcane fields on both sides, the teeming birdlife, the baya nests hanging from trees, and lastly the kingfisher on a power line that really clinched the deal. The areas closest to us were a sleepy, upper middle class suburb on one side with pretty houses and prettier gardens and a village with all its idiosyncrasies on the other. The purchase and the legal formalities went off without a hitch. We learnt that the builder I had chosen had a reputation not only for honesty but also for professionalism. It truly seemed like we had been guided.

The next three years were spent dreaming about all the exciting things we were going to do. I began to imagine traveling down many of the mountain roads, exploring each cranny and cliff, walking in wildflower meadows and bathing in waterfalls. Our holidays had always coincided with the monsoons and we had only seen the mountains as dream like places cloaked in cloudy mantles, under their verdant cover, with snaking silvery waterfalls. Oh those pessimistic detractors warned, but to deaf ears, their words unheard and unheeded. It seemed we had only existed till now, and would really live only once we moved.

How often it happens that we look forward to something with rose coloured glasses only expecting the good and never anticipating the bad. perhaps it is that in human nature that continues to drive us towards change and and what we might view as an improvement in our life or situation. Those among us always expecting the worst are labelled as pessimists and to be honest are rarely the ones to try to experiment or try a life out of their comfort zone. Even within their comfort zones they are miserable each moment wondering when the sky is about to make a rapid descent on their heads.

Optimism, what a wonderful way of thinking! Lets us go through each day happily, though maybe unrealistically sometimes, yet we do not anticipate trouble beforehand and therefore are able to dream and live on a cloud nine even if it exists only in our imaginations. So I lived for three years on my own soft cosy cloud, it was not pink I was viewing the world through though, but green. I could not wait to move to a land of green, fields and hills, gardens and forest. Perhaps I would have been more ready to be realistic had my husband not always introduced new doubts. The more he thought up potential problems regarding our forthcoming move, the tighter I clung to my ideal dream world. My roses were hybrid, I had bred out the thorns, there were no rough edges, there were no stormy seas.

Yet for all the problems that arose, I would advice people not to anticipate trouble before trouble comes calling, for you can never really know what form it is going to come in. Troubles have a very strange nature, they never come in the form in which we expect them, and so worrying about impending problems is a total waste of time that can be spent in so many more enjoyable ways.

Cling to the happiness life brings, relish it, enjoy it, and when you face a problem do not let it overwhelm you to an extent where it looms so big that you are unable to see the sunlight through it. Problems can be solved when taken apart and handled in small manageable bits. Most of all, life itself and all its wonderful offerings, small moments of joy, of happiness, love, companionship, pleasure in nature, etc should not be forsaken just because the mind is confronted with some difficulties. These are what living is all about, not the small or big wrinkles that may occur on the sheet of life.

Perhaps it was a bit naïve but I am glad that I did not waste the time worrying, but in pleasant anticipation and in March 2006 we finally moved to India, rose coloured glasses firmly in place and then the troubles began, ones we could not have expected.

The first were more of a series of shocks than problems. Turning left from the Highway into the Pune we were confronted with the potholes all the way till our home. We wondered what had become of the roads since we had last been here. In 2003 we had compared them favourably with Bombay roads but now we could not compare them favourably even with a bullock cart track in the remotest village in India. I will leave that here, for enough has been written on the state of the roads and I am glad that many have now improved considerably, though no doubt countless backbones have paid for their previous neglect.

Our second shock was the metamorphosis of our sleepy area, which had now turned into a throbbing glass and concrete IT hub. Any major metropolis would be proud of this blooming suburb with its state of the art complexes, malls and multiplexes. In vain I sought the quaint charm last witnessed.

Our little place too had become part of the outsourcing world. The once unending fields besides our complex now proudly sported a brand new call centre, with another on the way. We should be happy we were told, the price of our property had doubled, but the truth is; for me and for others too I am sure, that the greenery is the major inducement of moving to Pune and if that is not saved and cared for, and if development is not properly planned and controlled, this will become just another highly polluted, ugly, grey, metro.

Once over this shock we began sorting out our many problems. The major one among these was admissions.

Newspapers while extolling the education opportunities in Pune, never wrote about how hard admissions would be. Almost, in every school we visited, it was impossible to meet the principal. Often we were turned away from the gate itself by the security. This, after taking a bus at 6:30 am from Bombay to reach Pune at 10 am. There was no sympathy for the fact that we had traveled such a long way or that we were trying to resettle in our own country. I began to strongly suspect that the media was actually over hyping and selling Pune for some financial inducements other than the advertisements. Everyone who had promised to help us, either seemed to be unavailable on their phones, or else permanently out of the city. This taught me that people here tended to make promises they either had no intention of fulfilling, or then no real way of keeping. It was always better to have other options and an alternate plan of action ready.

There were some who wanted to be paid, outsiders who said that if I offered such and such amount to the school, my child would be easily granted admission, but I wondered what kind of education and ideals would be imparted to the children by an institution where the staff was corrupt. I wonder if the great Mahatma would be pleased to know that though we Indians do not remember his teachings, his picture does influence our decisions a lot when it is on the currency notes. Yes, sadly today we Indians carry Gandhiji not in our hearts but only in our pockets. I cannot really confirm that the staffs were corrupt as no one directly asked me for a bribe, how would they, when they were totally unavailable, but it was implied time and again by others.

As a word of warning to others, I have since then learnt that there are many touts who promise seats in educational institutions and desperate parents are only too happy to pay, sadly losing their money, so do beware. I though, was adamant that I would not buy a seat for either of my children. They had been brought up in a corruption free environment, and abetting bribery was not going to be in their first experience or lesson in their home country. The other alternative was an IGCSE School. This seemed ironical as I had always been an advocate of Indian education in Kuwait. Here in India though, among all the ICSE and GCSE schools I had no option left but to choose one of the newly mushrooming crop of IG schools offering a Cambridge Certificate.

The school I chose was new and they welcomed admissions. Each class was going to be limited to only twenty seats which assured personal attention from all the teachers. The counselor spent a long time with me, allaying my doubts and showing me all the certificates of recognition that the school had received, both from Cambridge and the Indian universities. In a way it was a moral victory too because though the fees were very high, I was paying them for services offered, a full cheque payment, and not under the table in a slimy, shady deal.

The next admission was for my other child who had actually done FY of college externally from another university. The said university took its own sweet time in giving the transfer certificate by which time most of the renowned colleges had already filled their quotas. I made a silly mistake here I admit. I believed people who said that her percentage was too low and she would never get admission without paying a heavy bribe. I advice everyone, never to accept anything as God’s own truth from anyone, even well wishers, but to find it out for themselves. When I finally found the courage to go directly to the colleges, I found that many of the good colleges like Garware, Modern and others were willing to take her, sadly we did not have the required transfer certificate. An external exam had been a convenient choice for us, as it gave us another year in Kuwait to get our affairs in order, but it could have been an expensive choice. Whoever tells you that external degrees are the same do not believe them, for they do not carry the same weight. Luckily, an external FY B Com result is treated the same as one from a college, while giving admissions for the next year. I was advised by a professor in a very reputable institute that I should immediately get her into regular college. It was this kind man who we had met for the first time, God bless him, who guided us to a newly opened college, where she would surely get admission. Here once again she was able to get individual attention and the lecturers were very helpful. Also the students here are much closer to their traditions and culture and so she too is able to learn much about it and about a way of living different from what she was used to. This pleases me immensely when I see how fast this same culture is disappearing from many among us.

Once the admissions were confirmed we moved to our new house one afternoon with nothing more than a mattress and a couple of pillows and a few suitcases. Most of our things had arrived from Kuwait by ship till Chennai, and from there by road to Pune. The tin trunks and even the factory packed fridge, washing machine and stove took quite a beating. The house had no furniture and was still being painted so I was unable to open anything to check the state of their contents. This was a mistake as I could not claim the insurance. As the first rains had fallen on the very evening the goods were delivered and the tin trunks had arrived damaged, this resulted in water seeping into the trunks and spoiling many of the books, clothes and other items in them. We had tried to pack them the best way we knew, using a lot of newspaper and tape yet we had been careless and perhaps even stupid. I advice anyone who is shipping their goods to crate everything, spend freely on bubble wrap and thermacol and see to it that your parcels are waterproofed. In the end the little expense and trouble will save a great deal. After I had buried my prized china; a gorgeous plate with a sea scene from Iraq, hand painted plates from Southern Africa, and some other items lovingly cherished for years, I began the salvage operation. The fridge had a leak and all its gas was lost. The filter of the washing machine was totally punched in. The stove luckily had escaped without much trauma.

I was lucky to find a person to repair the washing machine, who brought someone who was an expert refrigerator repairman. Not only was he a genius but also extremely scrupulous. He asked for about Rupees 2000/- to repair the leak and fill the gas, offering me a 1 year guarantee. Sadly there was not one but three leaks and since then he has had to repair them and has filled gas three times and has done so without asking for another paisa. The fridge has been working well now and it has been quite a few months. The washing machine too is working well and since then they have installed my stove and television all for very reasonable sums of money. I think I am very lucky to have found them especially as they come every time I imagine a disaster and charge just about 50 rupees only after I insist on paying them for their trouble.

Getting a gas connection was another problem, wherever I went they said that the company was not giving new connections for the next six months. They gave me a number, said they would be in touch and whispered under their breath that I should not hold mine. For a while we used a camp stove. Then one day I was directed to a lady in the village close by who had taken an agency for Pushpa gas. Unfortunately, I soon realised that I had a bad deal because the cylinder not only is more expensive compared to the others but also contains much less gas..

Getting curtains stitched was another problem I faced. I was directed to Camp for my many requirements, but have since then realized that a trip to the Peths is a better option. Most shops refused to stitch my curtains as I had not bought the material from them. It was a shop close to Laxmi road where the owner agreed to send his tailor, who I think has done a reasonably good job. I did have to specify though that I wanted the curtains to sweep and the design to merge without appearing uneven.

I think that the worst among my problems was not any of ones I have mentioned before but the autorickshaw wallahs here. Their rudeness and unreasonable demands made life hell in the beginning. As the complex we had chosen to live in was a little away from the main road, they refused to come there without being paid at least 30 to 40 rupees extra. Often even then it was nearly impossible to find a rick. Many times I stood out for over an hour, often in the rain but no rick would have the decency to stop. I caught on very fast that they never had 5 rupees, even if their pockets were bursting with change. The rick guys here had no scruples about pocketing the difference if you were unlucky enough not to carry change. Evenings out became impossible as the mental stress generated by the rickshaw wallahs dissipated any pleasure we might have got out of a movie or dining out. Planning simple outings or trips became a nightmare. I know there are others out there who have had similar experiences and will not think I exaggerate when I say that if I hated living in Pune in those first months, it was only because of the rickshaw guys.

There is also a maid mafia in our complex and they control the rates and the hours. If one maid works for longer hours for less money she is soon dissuaded by the others. They never give one house more than two to three hours, often running from house to house leaving half the work undone. Many also have ingenious ways of relieving the kitchens of extra rations. Our complex has many young couples, both of whom work, and have no options but to give in to the maids’ demands. This makes it really difficult for others on a lower income, who have no choice but to comply with their unreasonable demands. The maids knowing they have full control take as many days off as they like. There are others who operate differently, making the ladies of the house totally dependent on them and then asking for loans regularly, which the ladies find difficult or often impossible to refuse.

Another bad experience I have had has been with home tuitions. The agencies offering tutor services ask for complete payment in advance. This puts the parents completely in their hands. When one makes an enquiry they are promised the moon, two hours of tuitions five days a week, completion of portion and revision, and one free class, so you can try out the tutor. Of course once the money is in their hands then, so are you. The timings are erratic, the five days become four and change so often that you lose complete track, the portion is completed at the speed of light and two days before the exam the tutor says that no revision was promised.

Home tuitions offer a great service and a very necessary one as school teachers are not allowed to coach their students so a few words of advice. Get it all in writing with the signature of the owner of the agency (you have no idea how fast staff changes here) and the tutor. If they refuse, dangle the carrot of needing tuitions all year long. Do not pay the money before you have that in writing and if possible break the amounts into two or three payments which generally they will not agree but you can try. Follow your child’s progress. See what lessons are required to be done, and see to it that the tutor explains slowly and properly, and that the child follows the explanations. Do not accept the tutor’s words for it. Ask him to give homework and to correct it. Make sure that the portion is completed and so is the revision. I seriously think that some kind of law should be regulating these services so they do not defraud helpless parents and leave them high and dry before exams.

It is now been a few months since we have been here. I have managed to iron out all the wrinkles so that our existence is more or less smooth. I sorted out the rickshaw problem by taking the cell numbers of every driver with a cell, who was good enough to drop us without asking for extra money, or fighting half the way, or behaving like a martyr for taking us home. Before that I had to take one to the police station, and threaten another with dire consequences, though I had no idea what they would have been, fortunately he was unaware of my ignorance. Finally I have a list of decent, hard working men on my cell phone, who come to our building and do not put down the meter, till I am actually in the rick. As for the maid, she has been sheer luck, again a little bit of that divine help. We have lived through a few seasons here and have enjoyed each one, and the beautiful flora that blooms with it. There has been some unrest and a few incidences, since we have been here and one day was especially harrowing when my child was in school and a few people decided to stone the school’s buses. I would have preferred a cleaner, less polluted Pune, with more landscaping on the roads but overall though, it has been extremely pleasant. Learning about places, cultures, people, has been an enriching experience. We have discovered good places to shop and some pleasant gardens. Each day we learn some more and we live some more.