The Quest for Gas

Last evening, while getting fresh, the cell rang. A friend had called up to intimate that he has got the gas (LPG) connection. He was jubiliant. That, however, made me nervous. Even after two complete days of possession of new house, I was still connectionless. Reviving my management training take-home tips, I brushed aside the nervousness and replaced it - just like that - with enthusiasm. Fueled by the enthusiasm, I kicked my bike and set off in the quest for the gas agency.

It is noteworthy that the friend was talking of a temporary gas connection. The permanent one demands an assortment of documents, just to prove that I am Indian, I live on this part of earth called Noaydaaa and that a photograph took 5 years back and scribbed over ruthlessly by some paan-eater (read man-eater) goarmaent babu is still the same me. Oh Sorry! I am being negative. Bad habits, you see, don't go so easily. One must never speak negative. Oh! I mean, always speak positive (Or, not speak truth?).

Anyways, with my steed ready at my service, as always, I lurked into those murky and meanderish lanes of the city, which a sensible individual would be the last one to do. Circumstances, you see, make inevitable, evident. After searching a few such lanes, finally I met the prospect vendor. The negotiations began. Needless to say, it was more of an argumentative haggle than a humble bargain. Anyways, the deal settled for 400 bucks with 200 bucks refund when we give back the cylinder and the regulator. Expensive it seems, but experience of ICH since last one year has been so unforgiving that I trusted my untested hands for making my repast than to dine again at ICH.

The gas was mine.

Then I headed towards the mall. Following the golden advice of my Master, "Brand name is the minimal guarantee of genuiness" I entered the branded Daily Shop. At the billing counter, I dumped the fry pan and deep fry pan (kadhai). The shop was offering the kadhai free with the fry pan. In effect, for 205 bucks, I was getting both equipments (or utencils? Whichever is the correct nomenclature. What the heck!) Till the clerk made the bill, I was already in the fast lane, dreaming about me as the chef. Aha! what a magnificient sight it was. "Ejqujmee Saar!", the clerk quipped and forwarded the bill.

Honestly, my jaw dropped at least 2 inches when I looked into the scrip. First I glanced, then gazed, then inspected, then introspected and finally, growled. It was a bill for Rs.750, only. I demanded explaination. They demanded source of my action. I quoted the tag, hovering above the rack from which I had picked the duo. They responded, the scheme had ended quite a while ago. Feeling befooled, I shook my head in that moment of disillusionment. I was about to say, "OK, take whatever you want." And then suddenly something happened.

The clergy started apologising. I was thoroughly bemused. I had been too smart in assuming that the Indian lookalikes of these western retail chain shall be equally perfect in the upkeep of the store. Hence, I had picked up the stock just by looking at the tag, without even podering about consulting the attendant standing nearby. Now here was I standing with a bill slip of Rs.750 and these people in clergy started apologising. I guess, they deciphered my obvious bewilderment. So, the lead out there took me in the corner and confided in a low voice, "Boss! Yeh...Humse jo gaflat ho gayi hai, uske liye maaf kijia. Aap ye dono saman le jaiye...Khushi se...par...", he survilied the viscinity cautiously and lower his voice even more and continued, "...par...bahar yeh mat bataiyega ki humare yahan aisa ghapla hua tha. Pleej Saab. Hain? Thiik Saab? Thaenku!"

I was fused. My mind was point blank. The lead was offering me a Rs.550 discount for no apparent reason and just asking me to keep mum for no apparent mistake of his team. All this was just too much. I don't remember what I replied to him. I guess, I was way too confused. The last thing I remember is that I was carrying a rather heavy bag with some metal dangliling inside.

Later when I sat over the matter, back at home, I guffawed (literally). Hah! I had made money.

After coming out of the shock, I made a sumptous Omellet of 4 eggs and baked 4 bread slices. Mind you, it was way more tastier than the ICH one. Towards the end of the day, I was content. Both because I has the Gas to fuel my appetite and also, because I found a second promising way to make money, without putting any effort. The first one is obviously, sitting in the office.

The Shift

Husshhh! After much procastrination, I shifted to the new abode. Big it is. Spacious it is. Bright and Well-Ventilated it is. The old residence seems more like an adobe commensurate to the newer abode.

The process started a couple of weeks before. I started the hunt for a desparate owner who could rent his space to me. Luckily, my erstwhile boss made a few quick calls and arranged a meeting with a desparado. The meeting went fine. He handedover the keys for my perusal of the space. I did peruse, along with my recently discovered Master. Master appreciated my selection. Agog, I called the owner. The deal clicked.

Next what? Set up the house. What makes the flat a house was a dauting question. Parents never let me feel the heat of such questions. Burnt and Burdened, I strolled in the mall. Then I called my Master for guidance. Master, as always, gave an unambiguous solution. Following His advice I entered the Big Bazaar. Shopped till I dropped, comprising everthing from pin to pan and string to stove. The teller handed over a bill of Rs.4097. My heart thumped. 20% of the salary gone, just like that? Dhatt Tere Ki. Anyways, I loaded the purchase in the rickshaw and flew back to house.

In the evening, I went to the local market to buy other ancillaries. Bucket, containers, mugs, mattersses, mats, doormats, broom, bread, butter, knives, spoons, plates...OMG! It was a costly affair. Both on the pocket as well as the poor head.

This saturday, I decided to finally relocate to the house. So, begin with the packing of my stuff. The suitcases got full. The handbags got full. Still, my luggage kept peeking out of the wardrobe. God knows from where I got that much stuff. This way or that, it had to be packed. So, I converted a few polypags into new handbags. At the end of the tiring exercise of packing, I found a total of 18 something of pacakages. One each of shoes, books, magzines, house accesories, snacks and fast food, et cetra. It took a full quarter of an hour to bring the whole stuff down at the reception. Following that, I hailed a rickshaw. After loading the entire stuff, the rickshaw driver once gazed at me; top to bottom and then at the luggage. Then I think, he gasped, which I safely obliviated. Raising my nose a tad upwards, I kicked the bike and issued a fiat to the driver to follow my steed.

After stuffing the house, I started putting things in place. The kitchen was the first one to get dressed up. Then was my supposititious bedroom and the wardrobe. The last one was the washroom. As the rooms got dressed up, the bags started loosing weight. The equation at the end of the tiresome endeavour was, empty bags = set house = exhausted me. Being a forced optimist though (courtsey one year management training), I rephrased the last part of the equation as elated me.

Elated or Exhausted, the body needs food. So, next was the hunt for the Roti. I had Kapada on me and Makaan was there in place. Hungry and haunted, I dropped inside an Itailian Food Provider; Pizza Hut. Had a munch on a Steamed Mushroom Pasta and Hot Veggie Lover Pan Pizza and along with the gulps of Appy Fizz. What a sumptutous way to celebrate House Warming. Hah!

Tired but content I returned to the house. The boozy eyes searched for the supposed bed of doubled-up matresses. Sporting a big yawn, I collapsed into the bed and khhrrr....

Lets see, when the house becomes a home.