War

This morning I woke up pondering one of life’s great mysteries. No, it is not whether the chicken or the egg came first (actually it was the egg) or even why that chicken decided to cross the road, but rather why I have 2 electrical switches and an electrical socket in my shower. Maybe it’s just me, but last time I checked electricity, water and people make for a rather nasty cocktail. We just don’t mix well. I am not sure why I haven’t really pondered all of this before, but Sunday I could no longer ignore it, no longer live in denial. About 10 minutes after a shower, I heard a loud “POP” and smoke started pouring in from my bathroom. It seems my socket and switches had a bit of a burst and there they were, beautifully framed in black char.

Of course, the whole of the bathroom is wired from that particular electrical set-up, so I now have no electricity in the bathroom with the lone exception of the ceiling fan. A lot of good that does me when trying to give myself a late evening coif before heading out to the market. It also affects the hot water which means cold showers for now and while that felt great and refreshing a week ago, the rains the past few days have brought down the temperature enough so that the cold water is just a bit too cold. Brrrr.

Manuel and I are now at war. He has been here for just over a week and already, lines have been drawn. Have no fear, I will win. Manuel has found his Waterloo. Just before heading off to Lakshadweep several weeks back, I realized my life was empty. There was a dark space roughly the shape and size of an elephant and so I did what anyone in my situation would do, I decided to adopt one and fill the void, give my life meaning and also the ability to step on and squash anyone that gets on my nerves or in my way. No matter what anyone tells you, size does matter. Manuel has decided that he wants a monkey. Yes, I know, I went through that phase as well, but he seems far more set on it than I ever was. It all started on Sunday when we got in the rickshaw and began the journey that fateful journey. We were at India Gate and needed to go to Vasant Vihar, where we would meet Abdul at a chocolate themed café. As we rounded the houses of parliament and came up beside the residence of the president, there they were, a street full of monkeys. Monkeys sitting, climbing, picking bugs off themselves and each other, and the ones that Manuel really wants to have, monkeys carrying their little babies. I saw that look in his eyes and before I could protest, he stated he wanted one, must have one and has stopped talking about them only long enough to have a cup of Viennese coffee at Chocolat.

And I find his timing to just be completely insensitive. He knows as well a I do that I can’t think of monkeys right now, my entire days and nights are filled writing letters to my favorite inmate, Paris Hilton. She needs me. I have been so worried about her I have hardly slept and had to go out and buy some white oversized glasses to hide the bags. I was glad to read she has taken my advice and decided not to “play dumb” anymore. It just isn’t a good look for her. I am thinking of frigid librarian for her post-prison image.