Collaboration through technology

(Headnote : NP=North Pole, SP=South Pole)

NP : SP, can you check my mail today please?

SP : Will do, I'll check when I go down to play jigsaw puzzles on the comp. Btw, Alt- can you help me link the puzzle to my blog?

Me : Sure, next time I go down to pay bills!

NP : X, Y or Z should've emailed me by now. Its been 10 days since I've been away, the association must have some work lined up for me.

SP : Hrmph, you need a break. They will survive.

Some hours later...overheard...

SP : So there is an email from Y asking you to fwd an email to Mr. A. What is A's id?

NP : blah blah blah (dot) blah blah @ yahoo.com. But hang on, let me check my diary(black?).

SP (tapping her fingers and waiting impatiently while she attempts another jigsaw puzzle) : Alt- How do I turn these pieces?

Alt (with more impatience, she is her mother's daughter after all) : You can't. These pieces will fit as is. (and walks away)

NP : Here, this is the email address.

SP types it in and hits send and goes back to the puzzle.

A few seconds later...

SP : That has bounced!

NP : Bounced? What does that mean?

SP (Exasperated) : It means the email id is wrong. Are you sure this is right?

NP (scratching bald head) : Yes, this is what I have. See, maybe its gmail, not yahoo.

SP (After trying multiple combos of email ids and web-mail providers, gives up) : Nah, none of them work. So what to do now?

NP (looking quite lost) : Sigh. There is one way.

Both look at each other and in chorus- "Lets take a printout of this email and post it to A. What say?"

Sigh.

Overheard

North Pole : They have all been overworked. Just out of the IPL matches, we couldn't expect anything more.

South Pole : You know, he's always been that way. What can anyone do?

North Pole : Sehwag should've been in the team. It would have made a difference.

South Pole : Shall we call them today? Let's not delay.

North Pole : And you know, its the World Cup. The Cricket Board should've planned the teams better.

Me(Emerging out of the kitchen where I was scrubbing the countertops) : Erm, what exactly are you two talking about?

North Pole : I am talking about India losing in the T20 World Cup series, she is talking about XYZ(insert some relative's name here- who is related to X's aunt, Y's niece and so on and so forth).

Me : Sigh, I give up!

There's a Fifi in the house!

Er...if you didn't know what a Fifi is, shame on you! That's the name of Veronica's maid(of the Betty, Veronica and Archies fame, yo!)

Right after I leave for work in the mornings and by the time I get back home in the evening, my bed is made- like you know how the housekeeping services in a hotel room make them? Yah, that way!

See I usually dump clothes in the closet till the weekend, when I sort them out- wash bin, dryclean bin etc. These days I don't see any clothes lying around in the closet. Everything goes on a hanger. If you don't hear from me for a few weeks, just assume I landed up in one too.

My dresser is straightened out, no more earrings scattered all over it, no more lotions, perfumes and sundry items strewn around. I almost feel guilty using them now, I know that will be work for Fifi.

Yeh numbers ka maamla hai

So did I mention my folks(as in North and South pole) are here? I didn't? Well, there you go, now you know.

Hence its time to talk about house numbers and the commotion it seems to have created.

This is a recurring theme at every trip. North and South Pole rehearse this a few times, as to what to tell the immigration officer when he asks how long they're here for. Then of course, North Pole went off on a tangent and said exactly what he was instructed not to. So there began the first of the many complications.

Prior to that, each of them had filled out their disembarkation card. Unfortunately South Pole(the teacher that she is) forgot to supervise the one that North Pole filled out(you know, for spelling mistakes and such!). 2.5 hrs later they emerge out into the arrival hall where I was waiting for a very nail-biting, hair-pulling too-long a time.

All is good so far, they looked exhausted; we loaded the luggage into the car and headed home. As I pulled into the driveway, South Pole had a light-bulb moment. 'Oh' she goes, "your house number is 25676' and she proceeds to glare at North Pole "You had it down as 25576 in your disembarkation card, mine was right".

"Mbmmph" goes North Pole, jetlagged, exhausted and quite incapable of defending himself. I hurriedly unlocked the doors and proceeded to make some hot filter kaapi and deftly changed the topic, so I thought.

Its been a week since, and South Pole makes it a point to answer every soliciting call that comes with caller ids such as 'US Homeland Security' or the police(insert any other official agency) and makes it a point to be polite and nice. Why? The immigration dept would be calling to ask why they had the wrong house number in one of their disembarkation cards, right?

Right.

Raat ki baat

Our home in Bangalore is a 2 bedroom. Just enough for the four of us. That would be my parents and us two girls. Then of course, my parents are a holy union of the North and South pole. With the fan on, if one sleeps like a baby, the other gets migraines. If one has to have ALL windows open to sleep well, the other gets a chill. If one needs layers of blankets, the other get claustrophobic. Thus the list goes on. Before the thought crosses your mind, let me dispel them by saying the horoscopes were certainly matched and neither of them was coerced. So there! With such conditions, they had to be separated. Next, there was a time when life was simple and we had ONE tv. Then North and South pole developed(but, of course) diverse tv watching needs and by then West end(my sister) had grown old enough to proceed in a totally different direction with her channel demands. Thankfully West end and South pole decided to co-exist despite their differences. So they plotted to move in together into the 'girls' bedroom which I facilitated by moving out to the US. The arrangement then became North pole in one bedroom, South pole and West end in the other with their own tv. The guests didn't have a choice, they were categorically just not welcome.

So then what happens when I go home these days? Well lets see. Mother and daughter have now worked out a cozy connection between themselves. But they are also generous and want me to be a part of their communion. So the option of me sleeping on the diwan out in the family living room is ruled out. Unacceptable according to them, though it makes total sense to me. But no, I don't have a choice(please refer to the line : Guests don't have a choice; I am NOT a guest). So they insist I sleep in the 'girls' bedroom; that makes it 3 of us. Ok, fine. Adjusting, as a bharatiya naari, is but part of our heritage. Do keep in mind, neither of them wants to sleep in the middle. So what does that leave me with? Yes, you get the point.

Now West end is an extremely picky sleeper. She has to block every ray of light that could ever enter a room. She is also audio-sensitive, a gene her mother has generously donated . Wait, there's more. The DSL modem lands in West end's bedroom because she is the only one that uses the internet. Until my previous trip, there was no wireless router and now that there is one, signal strength in any room outside is weak. Now me, being me, I have a problem sleeping even in good times. Jetlag adds a new dimension altogether. Also, this time I had to work for 2 weeks and mostly to US times. So I set 4pm-1am IST as my work schedule. Keep in mind, West end needs to be up at 7am to leave for work at 8am. She has a hectic job and hence needs her beauty sleep.

Come 10pm and both mother-daughter turn the lights off. West end mutters under her breath for AT LEAST 30 mins about how my laptop light coupled with my keyboard sound is torturing her. Sometimes this happens when I am on a conference call, dialed over my VoIP client. I cringe at the thought that my boss might overhear some of it and make his own irrational conclusions.

After a lot of pacifying and promising to write away my first born to her, West end finally dozes off(I don't believe she is all that photo/audio-sensitive, but that's a different story for another day). At around 1am when I crawl into bed, severely exhausted, jetlagged and stressed, since I have to get in the middle of both of them, of course my knees hit one person's leg or I graze on someone's ankle or maybe even poke someone in their eye cos well..uhm...there is NOT a ray of light. I have to systematically shut down the laptop, the router, the dsl modem and the neighbor's night light(upon strict orders). At that time, I hear more muttering and cursing from West end and I am also running low on my stash of patience. But I bite my lips and wait for the storm to pass hoping I don't have to give away my second born as well. By then South pole wakes up asking if I got work done and promptly refuses to share her comforter(which I bought for her on her 60th birthday and she holds on to it like it was her third child).

I am left groping for something to cover myself with. Which invariably causes more muttering by West end. Oh, I also have to refrain from shifting positions, moving my limbs around and/or other such related activities that any normal person might indulge in while sleeping. All these are likely to 'rouse' the monster. By the time she's done and I get some shut eye, I begin to wonder if I did the right thing signing up to come stay with my 'family' for 30 days and spend time with them. And I don't even want to mention the episode where I wake up at 4 or 5am(cos of my insomnia). There's only so much I can snack on, watch tv out in the living room and/or read without disturbing either one of them.

I decide to go for a walk everyday at 5am. Which means I have to set aside my track pant/t-shirt/ipod/socks out to the living room the night before(Why you ask? Lord haven't you been following the story? No lights remember?). After a good hour's walk, I finally decide to check email at a time I consider a reasonably sane hour erm...6am! By then I have said my prayers and even folded hands in front of the idol in Lalbagh on my walk and I pray everyday that West end doesn't kill me at the sound of my windows laptop booting or the light from the monitor or the sound of my breathing....any one thing is fair game for a trigger.

She doesn't but it invariably puts her in a bad mood till the time she leaves home for work. At this time, I conclude, I don't need in-laws, my own flesh and blood makes up for the lack of it.