Not allowing me to express myself

The song which played while I wait fuming for the customer service head is that of airtel thanking the people of Andhra Pradesh for making it the best mobile service in the state. Fiddlesticks! Ask me and I will explain the irony.

I had taken a new post paid number of airtel. Idea had demanded that if I wanted to get my ideas across to people, I should hang precariously onto the balcony of my flat for my life and my limb. The Customer Care assured me that they were trying for a better network coverage which should be through in a few days. My wiser friends nodded darkly (they had missed neither the experience, nor the meaning) and said that they had been under the same delusion for more than a year now. So I decided to move to what were the apparently greener pastures of Airtel. If my experience with Idea had been that of dealing with deluded people, Airtel was worse. They justified as to why they were 'apparently' deluded.

It all started with that message which claimed that due to negative address verification, I was going to be disconnected.I had to contact the customer care immediately. What followed was worse that getting lost in Franz Kafka's castle. And the epilogue to the story is stranger.

CCE 1 - Madam, our servers are busy now. The status of your connection will be available only after half an hour.

After half an hour

CCE 2 - There seems to be some problem with your address verification. Please contact the address verification department.

The bloke was decent enough to give me a number which did not work. So I dutifully called Customer Service again.

CC3 - Why don't you try with a different SIM card? (assumption - I travel with different sim cards at a given point of time.. He was cheerful enough to attempt to help me though) Actually your address verification has turned out to be negative, though I don't know what it actually means.

Rude words from me and my call is escalated to the team lead.

Team lead - You have to pay an additional 500 rupees by the end of today since you dont live in a family accomodation.

Polite question from my side as to why this was not told to me before elicited the same response. Change of tactics - I ask by when do I have to pay. Response - ASAP. By now I am furious and start yelling. I had the right to yell coz it had already been declared to the dealer that I don't live with a family and the payment to that effect had been made and any lame learner of English can see that the phrase 'negative verification' patently means something different from paying extra money and airtel cannot hold gun to the forehead of its post paid customers like this. Moreover the writing on the wall was clear - this process means that within a week of your taking a post paid connection, you would get a message that would shake you out of your living daylights like this. I started threatening legal action. That is when the call was escalated to the Head of the Customer Service.

I will spare the details and his justifications, but I did threaten him of legal action since all my documents were in place. In his 'I am going out of my way for your sake' capacity, he assured me of direct access to him and requested me to make the payment by 8.00 pm that night to avoid being disconnected.

Then more out of malicious intent, I call the Customer Care again to find the status of my number

CCE 4 - (cheerfully) The number is working maam and there is no need to make any additional payment.


And to the end, the Customer Care Head (poor man,...I pity his wife who has to put up with this kind of talk everyday. Must be muttering the same sales talk in his sleep also) insisted that Airtel's procedures were the best in comparison to other services like Reliance and Idea, coz they give you the service but steal your data (god knows how this happens - whatever, this is definitely heterogeneous scenarios yoked together by violence) When I confronted him the next day, he was clueless as to how CCE 4 could give a different take on the situation and instead chose to escape into singing odes in the praise of the procedures of airtel.

Whatever, I have not made that payment till date. And my number continues to work.

Disclaimer - The above is a reconstruction of the conversation that I had with Airtel over a period of three hours (plus an hour the next day). Since it is based on conversations recollected in tranquility (after having established suitable distance between myself and the events) I cannot be legally held accountable for the remarks expressed anywhere in this post. :-)

Subway tales

One of the good things that has happened on the stretch of road from Mehdipatnam to Gachibowli is the number of restaurants that have opened shop, Subway, Dominoes, Wonton. Which means now I have decent choice for lunch and coffee.

A friend had said that she was going to be an hour late. And there was absolutely no motivation for me to hang around in the university. I remembered the Subway and headed there. Ordered a coffee and opened my books. I was the only one [as usual, wrong timing] and read through, making copious notes. My friend was nowhere in sight. Ordered another coffee. By now you guessed it right. I was just trying to kill time as there was no other decent place where I could sit and work. Checked my mobile for the time. Another 45 minutes to go. Helplessly I looked at the waiter. Silent communication. I did not particularly relish the thought of a third cup of coffee. The waiter smiled and said 'Maam, no issues. You can sit here as long as you want.' I flashed my best smile and continued with my work. And sort of felt a mild regret when my friend returned.

A week later

Waiting for my friend again. Headed straight to Subway again. Was greeted by a cheery 'Hello Maam. Welcome back! What would you like to have today?' I decided to experiment with iced tea. [It had been yet another hot day!] Sipped it slowly and sorta regretted again when my friend arrived.


Five days later

Sorta stuck with the work in the university and could not have my lunch. Headed for Subway and ordered for a sub. Needless to say, was again greeted by a smile and 'Hello Maam, What would you like to have today? A sub?' Obviously I was looking famished. Trusted the waiter's choice in choosing the best possible veg sub for me. I did not regret leaving the decision making to him. As I downed the chilled coke, felt the need to read and make notes. I dug into my bag, but could not find my elusive Parker. Requested a pen and got it. Sat for an hour peacefully and did my work.

Three days later

An SOS from a friend who needed some immediate help on a project. Subway was the meeting place. I asked my friend to come to Subway. Ordered for a couple of coffees and dug into my handbag for my elusive Parker. The waiter was watching me and knew what was coming next. By the time I reached the counter, he was ready for me.

Today

Honestly needed a coffee more than anything. Life has become quite difficult and complicated. Headed to the Subway for peace. As I settled down and opened my scribbling pad to make some notes, my Parker decided to become elusive again. By the time I made it to the counter, the waiter knew what I wanted. And both of us started laughing.

What I think about these Subway tales

I don't give a damn whether the waiters are paid to do all this or not. It's just that I feel happy at such simple acknowledgements, smiles, especially when they come from strangers, who suddenly seem to be sharing something with you, who try to make you feel at home. It makes the world feel....well... more connected and clued in. 

A Shouting in the Silence?

'Long time ma'am, since you last came here,' remarked the waiter. I was at Java Green in Punjagutta, and it had been a month since my last visit. He knew what I wanted as I settled down with my book. Out of the corner of my eye, my eyes registered something out of the usual. I could see hands flinging about. Words that were supposed to be heard but not heard. Right in the middle of the outlet, a group of five people around a table were engaged in an animated conversation. They were almost shouting, but silently!

I was amazed. So much of communication and so noiselessly. The waiter, obviously wanting to share his observations on them, felt a kinship with me and moved over. 'Just imagine the noise levels ma'am if five people had actually been engaging in this kind of a verbal discussion.' The five people were communicating in sign language.

I was interested. Who were these people? They were of a mixed age group and were of a professional disposition. Most importantly, they were starkly set off against the motley crowd by their willingness to connect and communicate. Fascinated, I asked the waiter. 'Do they come here everyday? Who are they?'

'They are employees of the Andhra Bank above. Everyday they don't take their break at the usual time and instead in the evening settle down here for a long discussion. I have been seeing them for the past eight months and everyday, watching them has been quite fascinating. If there is no place inside, they place an order and make themselves comfortable outside on the pavement. But the pattern has remained the same for the past eight months. The five get together at the same time in the evening and god knows what they talk, but they talk.'

I looked at the animated speakers again and was struck, by their willingness to connect to each other. Even at the expense of 'shouting' in silence. How many of us are willing to take time for that?

I had a great big fall!

The latest bug that has bitten me is that of dancing. Yes, I do  dance once in a while and am also trained in the classical version to some extent. It all started when a group of us were discussing those 'irrelevant things' which, as if by some stroke of chance, suddenly mutate into possibilities of expressing hitherto hidden talents. [Especially when you have nothing else worthwhile to discuss]

In case you have not understood the previous line, some of us decided to dance. The suggestion was put forth by an adventurer and was promptly accepted. Can you picture the six of us crammed in a room, music at full blast, stomping away to glory, with occasional pretensions to being professionals? Of course, we had taken care of the coffee part.

We were indeed an interesting group - called ourselves The Electric Girls - 3 serious dancers, 2 wannabe dancers and 1 adventurer. We yelled, screamed and laughed at our own mistakes. Making the wannabe dancers and the adventurer understand and develop a sense of rhythm and beat proved to be a daunting task.

But oh, when did the great fall happen? We were rehearsing live before an audience and some of us in the 'interesting group' were in a hyperactive state. One hyperactive girl challenged me to a classical dance posture which had been child's play to me earlier. In retrospect, I was an idiot to accept that challenge. I had been out of practice for quite some time now. However, the general consensus was that I should attempt at it, and not be a coward. As that girl held on to me for support, I attempted the impossible-bending backwards and touching the floor with my head (a classical pose pertaining to the snake dance. And yes, in my younger days, I could achieve that!) I miscalculated and instead of a smooth progress towards my destination, I landed with a thud. Nevertheless, my instincts made me reach out for the hand of a surprised onlooker and finally, the three of us, tumbled on each other - a sorry mess right in the middle of the stage. The entire amphitheatre's attention was drawn to the three dazed souls.

All that we could do at this defining moment was to give a gracious smile and nonchalantly pretend as if this was all a part of the act. [The accusations could be hurled later.]

As for dancing, we did put on our act, with a medley of songs from Madonna, Westlife, popular dance numbers from Hindi and Telugu and yes, the act was widely appreciated. Three cheers to the spirit of adventure! 

Mango Party

Mango Party

The Mango season in Hyderbad is quickly coming to a close, whilst yet another year, I rue the missed opportunities. For what? Sitting under a tree and eating a mango with bare hands

When I was a kid, I had this aunt of mine who stayed in a village in Andhra Pradesh. Come summer [not September!] our tickets would be procured and the three of us would be packed off to this village sans our parents. What halcyon days they were!

My aunt was a wonderful cook. In a jiffy she could make anything that was mouth watering and fit to be consumed on those lazy afternoons or nights under the sky. But when that, sometimes, didn’t happen, the mangoes were always there as a backup. Gorge into them, no questions asked. And where did we get these mangoes from? No, not from the supermarkets! In that village, most of the people had their own mango groves and it was customary that each family gave a basket of mangoes from their grove to all others. And of course the kids from Chennai had a special place in everybody’s heart. From the village doctor [I wonder whether he was really a doctor or a registered medical practitioner] to the official village painter – they would troop into my aunt’s house with baskets of mangoes. It was considered offensive if you refused their offer.

The best of course were the invitations to the mango groves where you could sit under a tree, pluck a raw mango and eat to your heart’s content. No gardener to shoo you off! Strangely enough, the visits to the grove stopped after a village kid told us that the groves were frequented by ghosts very often. But the mango party continued. Morning, noon and night.

In Chennai, we had a custom at home. We would not eat mangoes until the completion of my grandfather’s ceremony in the latter half of May. It seems my grandfather used to love mangoes a lot and as a tribute my dad stopped eating mangoes till the completion of the yearly ceremony. We followed suit. So two days before the ceremony, Mom, brother and I used to go the place in Parry’s corner in Chennai and purchase tons of mangoes [hyperbole of course, what I actually meant to say was as much as we could carry between the three of us!] And post ceremony – it was all mango celebration.

After I came to Hyderabad, the interest in mangoes weaned away. Especially this year, I had hardly had a decent mango. Even the mango faithfully given by Chachaji would just rot away in my house. I mean what is the fun having mango in your own room with no company of either human beings or Mother Nature. And of course, there is also no fun in having perfectly cut pieces of mango in a bowl with a fork to go along with it. Many a time I felt like using my hands, but etiquettes had a better claim over me.

And of course, the place where I stay, we used to have mango party every night. Want to know how it went? Mango’s would be cut and given in a plate. [I was not worthy of cutting mangoes with a kitchen knife because after one attempt, my friends concluded that I would cut my hand instead of the mango] and you had to partake of it with a spoon. The seed inside was of course, condemned to the dustbins. So this was the rather sorry state of affairs. The season was going to come to a close without my having manhandled, or rather womanhandled a mango. But then … fate intervened.

Day: Thursday

Date: 19-Jun-2008

Place: in front of friends who thought that I had gone mad!

I had had a difficult night the previous day and lost my appetite during breakfast. Naturally at around 12.30, rats started running in my stomach. I became desperate for food. There was a distinct possibility that I might turn into a cannibal when I spotted Chachaji. Without any prelude, I stated my problem, and in an instant he took me to the room where mangoes had been stored. Without pausing to think, I picked up opened it up with my hands and ate it to my heart’s content. Of course, a liberal dosage was on my face and hair as well, and everyone knew why I ate less lunch. Whatever, after 4 years, I actually ate a mango with my bare hands. Cause for celebration, right? I got four more and I am going to attack them tonight!