Monday, July 6, 2009

A Slippery Slope

So I finally got TV channels set up here last night – satellite TV. I hadn’t even particularly wanted it, although it was nice to be able to watch the hockey playoffs and the occasional movie in the hotel. And that’s when we were negotiating for what I got in the apartment – so when they asked, “Do you want a TV and a programming hook-up?” I said, “Yeah, OK. Sure.” But then, after having lived without it for several weeks, I wasn’t too keen on getting it – I’d probably never have read so much after having worked all day as I had in the last couple of weeks if I’d had TV programming...But the guy who’s been helping me, Kapil, was working so hard on it, and doing such a seemingly effective job, I didn’t want to be a killjoy.


So, anyway, last night, he showed up on my doorstep, shivering and wet. No, actually, he was dry and at an apparently comfortable temperature. But he came in and encouraged me to turn on the TV – I don’t know what inspired him to do this particular thing at this particular time, as earlier in the day we (he) had called the programming helpline, and, as far as I could tell (the girl who listened to our “conversation” in the office seems happy enough to laugh as she listens to one or the other’s side but surprisingly disinclined to share that joy by providing any translation to the other party...), been told that programming would be available in 24 hours. Anyway, perhaps just wanting me to check or perhaps having some inside information, he asked me to turn it on, and "Voila,” as they probably used to say in the small Pondicherry French colonies here, “I see Zee TV!” (if they were indeed watching the channel named Zee TV, which they may have if they liked Western programming in English, which is what it seems to broadcast.)

I wasn’t overly excited by the prospect, but TV has an insidious way of growing on me, and pretty soon I was enjoying William Shatner’s relation of some hilarious anecdotes to Conan, who appeared to be on a new set or some such thing. I laughed quite heartily, which I felt a little bad about, as Kapil, who was sitting there watching with me, doesn’t speak English, and therefore was probably missing the finer points of Shatner’s story, though, one must admit, it did contain an unusually large amount of miming to dramatize the presentation, which was nice, although, when be began describing something that had happened when he'd headed off to relieve himself, Conan began to discourage such a style of storytelling.

Well, then that ended, and before they returned with Incubus after the commercial, we flipped through the channels to see what all I gotz. Then Kapil wanted to confirm that the HBO I got was in English, so I found it, and there was an adventure movie on, so we stayed with that for a bit (light on the dialogue, heavy on the action – translates well even without translation) before he had to go.

So, when he got up to leave, apparently having consumed a sufficient level of English-language television for the time being, I turned off the TV. After his departure, I planned on leaving it that way but then thought maybe I should just check to make sure it still worked after turning it on again. Then I thought maybe I’d just look at one or two of the channels I saw that was more likely to have something interesting on. Then, of a sudden, I found myself sitting there, being comforted by that avuncular old friend known as TV.

I felt like Adam. I hadn’t really been particularly interested in this apple - had been content just going about my simple but wholesome life - but it had been pushed so hard, I figured, “What the heck?” So I gave it a try. Just because. To be polite. And we all know how that story goes – next thing you know, it’s fifteen years later, and you're pouring the contents of the flask you keep in the interior pocket of your overcoat into your Gloria Jean's Coffee Beans cup in front of a Great Steak Escape in a food court in Poughkeepsie, staring ashamedly at the fifteen-year-old girls in their baby tees.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Shockingly Clean

There’s nothing quite like coming home to an unelectrified plumbing system – because, I don’t care how tough and rugged you are, sometimes you just want to wash away the day’s worries without having to turn the hot water knob using an insulator. Trust me – a bucket bath just doesn’t live up to the hype if you’re in a constant state of careful estimation regarding whether or not there’s an unbroken circuit of water between the sink’s faucet and where the soap sits on the edge of the counter. When you don’t feel like jumping at the most minute twitch of a muscle because you think it’s the first sign that you’re about to be the path of least resistance between the water-covered floor and the capricious voltage source that sometimes manages to coerce the water pipes into collusion. Perhaps the most hilariously frustrating part is when, as you see the bucket below the lower faucet nearly full, you hurriedly grab some cotton shorts and use them to insulate your hand as you turn the lower-faucet on–everything off–shower-on lever to the middle, “everything off” position, but, in your hurry, go a bit too far, crossing over into “shower on” territory, and those handful of drops fall straight down, directly onto your shorts, on your hand, on the metal lever, almost instantaneously turning your shorts from quality insulator to great conductor, and sending that telltale throbbing pulse up your arm and down your leg.

Food for Thought

In India, there are appoximately 700 distinct foodstuffs considered “good for digestion.” In fact, if you are eating Indian food with an Indian, and said Indian begins a sentence with “It is...,” you can be 95% sure that the next words out of said Indian's mouth will be either a.) cooling, b.) good for health, c.) good, na?, or d.) good for digestion. Almost never will you here the more expected “hot as all get out to begin with, and eating this stuff would make you sweat in a meat locker.”

Lunch, Lunch, Lunch, Lunch...

As an objective outside observer, I believe I'm in a position to confidently say that they have a bit of a lunch complex over here. They always want to know, namely, if you've eaten it.
They also have a particular way of expressing it, specifying that it's your lunch they're referring to. You hear it so much, it becomes a cliché:
“Have you had your lunch?”
As if you just might answer:
“No, but I stole Renji's – don't tell the poor bastard, though, or I won't be able to steal it again tomorrow.”

Sunday, May 31, 2009

If by "Digestion" You Mean "Constipation"...

In India, there are appoximately 700 distinct foodstuffs considered “good for digestion.” In fact, if you are eating Indian food with an Indian, and said Indian begins a sentence with “It is...,” you can be 95% sure that the next words out of said Indian's mouth will be either a.) cooling, b.) good for health, c.) good, na?, or d.) good for digestion. Almost never will you here the more expected “hot as all get out to begin with, and eating this stuff would make you sweat in a meat locker.”

Friday, May 29, 2009

Offing the Offal

It seems, in Belapur, at least, that Saturday is Trash Day. Not “Take Out the Trash Day” or “Pick Up the Trash Day” really so much as “Burn the Trash Day.” And the scent was not one that brings back the rustic nostalgia of a camp fire. Rather, it brought to mind a raging tire factory inferno. I decided to hold my breath until I passed the fire and was pleasantly surprised as I realized that, with the heat of it still gratuitously warming my back on this hot summer's day, the strong wind yielded one side of the fire completely without scent or noxiousness. However, that same wind soon enough offered up for my olfactory enjoyment the scent of the plastic-and-rubber conflagration located a few hundred feet down the way. Luckily, I only noticed it occurring in one of the three blocks I walked past on my way to work. I just hope it wasn't too early for everyone else to have been goaded by their wives to “Go burn the trash already!”

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

The Only Conceivable Reason

Sanjiv: Hey, Rajiv!

Rajiv: Yes, Sanjiv?

Sanjiv: Let's sell milk!

Rajiv: ...okay...

Sanjiv: Only...we'll sell it in bags!

Rajiv: But...why?

Sanjiv: Because I hate people!

Rajiv: Brilliant!
This website and all content copyright © 2007-2020 Matthew T. McHugh. All rights reserved. Any use of this content without the express written consent of Matthew T. McHugh is strictly prohibited.