Monday 17 November 2008

Installing a machine. Losing a person.


There is something about the nature of money that seems to brutalize us.

Or perhaps it brings out the brutality we harbour within?

Our parents recently gave us a gift of a water filter. We went out and bought the delightful machine and were told that in 5 days a person will come to install it.

It was an evening and we had just had a 2 hour power cut. The man had come but was waiting downstairs as he knew that climbing 7 floors and then not having power would do him no good - since his powerdrill needs electricity.

He was certainly not in a good mood to start. Neither were we. We had been assured that no plumber was needed. Now this young man tell us to 'turn off the water' so that he can undo the kitchen tap.

Problem. How do we do that? I furitively went upstairs and looked at which pipe goes where. Finally I felt that I knew the kitchen supply pipe - only to see that there was only a single valve. A man's gotta do, what a man's gotta tod - I turned off the water to all the kitchen taps on this side of the building. Then scampered down and watched feverishly is he did his stuff. Once the new junction was on and our tap put back I scurried up again to turn the water on.

In the mean time, we had shifted our dish-drying rack. The man did had put the tap back - but it was leaking. Try as he might he could not get it back to its upright position - and not have a leak. 'Its no big deal' he told us. We were not amused. Then he drilled the holes for the water filter. We asked him to drill some more for our dish rack. 'No, I only drill three holes each time. I need to go home" he said. Further dis-amusement from our part. The holes were reluctantly drilled.

We had a further discussion about the tap. 'You can just get a plumber to fix it' he told us. 'But you are the plumber.' we said. 'No, I am not - all I do is install the machine' 'But you unscrewed the tap - and it wasn't dripping before'. Not a happy jovial conversation. Not a kind loving chat.

He is single. His family is in Uttar Pradesh. He is 19 years old. He is here to try and get ahead in life.

His visit to us will probably fetch him 25-30 rupees. No wonder he wants to get out as soon as possible.

His words are confused. He is a jumble. Our unhappy faces don't help.

Nagging thought: "he needs to be told about God". He is in no mood to talk. We ask him to have a cup of tea. He wants to leave. He leaves. On his way out I give him a Hindi pamphlet - 'Peace with God.'

Later in the evening Sheba finds it on the floor of the lift. No surprises here.

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