road trip

Road Trip

The part of my family living in India decided to visit the half that lives in the USA over the summer vacation. Everyone wanted to do different things there, play golf, go shopping, I even signed up for a half marathon. We were all drowned out by my grandsons persistent non wavering one line,” Universal Studios, Sea World.”

A road trip was arranged and we hired a large vehicle.

“How do you know where  and how to go?” asked my daughter, “do we have to carry maps?”

In India life is simple. When you don’t know the way, you just stick your head out of the window and ask the friendly neighbourhood tea shop owner for directions. It doesn’t help that he often confuses left and right. He sometimes even comes out of his shop and waving his right arm around says, “ go left.” Nor does it help when he says “straight at the traffic signal”. When you do reach the traffic signal there are  two “straights” one is over a flyover and the other to the side of it!

“We don’t carry maps,” said my son, we use a GPS.”

It was a the size of a mobile phone. In addition to the all our luggage,   the omnipresent Garmin GPS had to be fixed to the windshield and locked. At almost every bump in the road it fell off and dangled by a cord. It had a disembodied feminine voice which started instructing us almost before we backed out of the driveway.

“Recalculating “ she said, “turn north at Westside and move forward 400 yards”.

“What is she saying?” I asked “we have not left the driveway.”

“That is what she is asking us to do” said my son as he tried to fix another square box on the windshield.

“What is that thing?” I asked.

“It is an I pass. It automatically subtracts toll as we go.”
One more gadget that also regularly fell off the windshield.

Both fell off several times while we backed out of the drive way itself. The van also had a GPS on the dashboard.

“I am more familiar with my own,” said my son. We tried to switch the dashboard one off, but it steadfastly stayed on. ”Go straight 100 yards then turn left and left again,” said the monosyllabic female voice from the GPS.

“What is she saying?” I asked.

“Nothing really, she is just getting us out of the driveway on the main road.”

This really seemed like overkill.

The lady got us into all kinds of situations. She was at cross-purposes with the lady in the dashboard, even though they were programmed to take us to the same place. They “recalculated,” one after another, they had no clue  what to do when roads were blocked for maintenance. Since their voices were the same, it led to bedlam. We finally downloaded and printed out a map from Google. This kept the ladies in some sort of control.

I tried to balance both the GPS and the I pass with my arms while strapped into (as per the law) the seat. Every other notice on the high way  seemed to announce exorbitant fines for failure to do so.

“You need to hold the pass there only when I reach the toll.”

That was a relief. I put it in the glove compartment.

The woman in the Garmin seemed determined to instruct us from the time we inserted the car key. It was  confusing. Sometimes I think you need to have a permanent compass fixed to your car as well. Directions cone not as forward or back ”but “north and south, east and west”

If you cannot see the  sun it makes for confusion. “That is not the way,” said my son, “what is wrong with this woman?”

He was obviously right. She insisted that we go along a road that had been totally blocked for construction.

We went another way and reached our destination, with  a little help from a down loaded printed Google map.

“She has done something with the thermos,” announced my grandson.

“She is not a person” explained my daughter, “she is a computer program that strings syllables  together. Besides she cannot reach out from the dashboard and take your thermos.”

“But she has made it very hot at the back.”

That is when we realized he meant thermostat!

The woman was “recalculating” long after we reached our destination and were unloading the car.

“Why can’t she keep quiet ” asked my grandson, “ She gives me a headache.”

She did not care what we thought. She recalculated till she was switched off and then continued  the next morning while she was being programmed when we restarted the next morning. She was so unhappy with our efficiency!

getting spooked

Getting Spooked

We always had dogs, all shapes sizes and breeds. My children and I loved dogs. My husband hated them. Out voted he succumbed to family pressure. Every time a dog added had passed over, he would say, “this is the last ! I refuse to have another wild animal in the house.” I silently brought in the next puppy and then--- it was too late.

Penny was a miniature Pomeranian. She fitted in the palm of your hand when fully grown. She looked like an angel. But nothing could be further from the truth. She hid in  the back of the refrigerator and under the sofa. She pounced on unwary passers by. Domestics who were cleaning the house, ( I immunized them all and paid a great deal of “bite money”) guests who tried to get up from the sofa---. She did not obey a single command, BUT we discovered she was scared of heights. Whenever we wanted to restrain her, we just put her on the window ledge or bookshelf. She was fanatically protective of the children.  Electricians, plumbers, tradesman and others who came to the house were petrified. Word spread. No burglar ever came near us. (They attacked some of our neighbours though)!

Penny died after 16 years. The children were devastated. The vet who looked after Penny in her last days offered me a pup from her dog’s litter.

“They are a cross between a Tibetan terrier and a Lhasa Apso”. I saw the pups. Four black ones lay huddled together and a white and black one lay confidently  alone under the table. I took the black and white. A  friend named him Axl.

He bit me as soon as he was weaned off the feeding bottle (and not dependent on me any more). He bit me several times over the years. My husband was very triumphant .

“Finally a dog with sense”. He told everyone. “He bites only Gita.”

Axl decided that he wanted one of my husband’s shoes as a pillow. Husband tried confidently to remove it—and received his first bite of the season! He never bit my son,  daughter, son-in -law or grandson. (He was fiercely protective of my grandson). Watched over him while sleeping and fetched my daughter the minute he stirred or whimpered.

 I was reduced to bathing him with a hose from a distance. My son taught him many fancy commands. I managed nothing! If I so much as said “sit “ he looked disdainfully at me and walked off!

“You have to exert your authority,” said my son.

 I tried discipline by whacking the ground next to him with a newspaper. The loud sound was supposed to work. He attacked the newspaper, bit it to shreds and had me fleeing for my life. It all seemed very futile.

Axl passed on to be replaced by Jaz. A large black Labrador. His sole duty was to run with me in the mornings. My friend (who had many dogs ) said, “labs are quiet and gentle. Very easy to train”. She could not have been more wrong. He was boisterous, did not know his own strength, and disobedient to a fault. All I managed to teach him was “sit”, and that too only for a few minutes.

I came to Iowa to visit my son. Since my last visit, he had a acquired a dog, a black and white (sound familiar?) cross between a husky and a ?dalmation. He was the same size as Jaz and equally  strong.

“Don’t worry “ said my son. He is part  husky so he does not bark. I took him to obedience school. He is very well trained. He has a certificate. SEE?”

The certificate was stuck on the fridge. Son was right. Spooky was very well behaved.

I went to the toilet. When I came out he was standing on the dining table.

“No,” I said, ”get off!”

He refused to listen. Cajoling, treats, threats, all to no avail. I was scared to sit there with him towering over me and so I stood up and ate my lunch.

The next day he started barking furiously at the back door. (He KNEW how to bark). I let him out, only to have him chase a squirrel like a dog possessed. It was next to impossible to get him back in the house. He did eventually come in but only a half hour before my son returned.

“I don’t understand you ma,” said son disbelievingly , “he is very good”.

The next day, he knocked over the trash can repeatedly.

I took him for a walk but he seemed to think that I was telling him to attack an elderly couple with walking sticks. I dragged him across the road. He has a new type of spring leash so it stretches. It was very difficult to restrain him, and very embarrassing. The couple looked at me daggers drawn. He bit the leash and attacked it all the way home when he was not getting tangled in my legs.

A police women came up to the front door the next day. She did not ring the bell but peeped in through the glass panel. Spooky was watching her silently from the landing. I almost jumped out of my skin on the way to the basement with the laundry.

“Excuse me,” she said and showed me her badge.

I opened the door and found that she had some  questions about a truck parked nearby.

Spooky did not even bark. He just watched her with interest, wagging his tail. Perhaps he was trained to recognize authority in the form of uniforms?

Three days later Spooky jumped my son from behind and almost wrestled him to the ground, trying to pin him down like he was prey.

“He is playing,” my son said. ”Stop! No.” Apparently all commands had to be single words!

It was no use. Finally we got a spray bottle and sprayed him in the face with water. That stopped him.

“This is  ridiculous. He has forgotten everything he learnt in obedience school.”

He turned and looked at me.

“Its all your fault.”

“Mine?” I said “what did I do?”

“All your dogs have been like this. It is your personality. It rubs off on the dogs-------“

Dr. Gita Mathai

The writer is a paediatrician with a family practice at Vellore.

If you have any questions on health issues please write to

yourhealthgm@yahoo.co.in

Going to the USA

I make a pilgrimage every year to the USA to visit my son. This time I found myself siting next to a vegetarian gentleman from Chennai. I am stressing the “vegetarian” because he did not eat any of the food provided by the airline. He had little packets, (provided by his wife no doubt) and they were neatly labeled “breakfast, lunch , dinner.”

He was garrulous to a fault. I was trying to sleep.

“Is this your first visit?” he asked.

“No” I said, but before I could complete what I wanted to say, he took off like a locomotive.

“I have to go every four months. I have a multiple entry visa. I have to look after my son’s children. They wanted to put them in day care. I would not allow it.”

“Where are you going,” I asked politely.

He replied, ”I am going to Texas. These crazy Americans!! As soon as you see one you must ask “are you a democrat or a republican?” They never stop talking after that!”

Apparently his son lived in a house with a lawn.

“Did you know” he continued “all the work in this country is done by Mexicans. They are all called Juan.”

“How do you know?” I asked feebly.

“They come to fix the garden. My son does not want me to go out of the house unless he is there. He locks the house when he leaves. I cannot open the door. One day the fan was not working. I looked out of the window and saw three Juans. Come here I shouted. One Juan came. Climb in the window and repair this fan, I said.”

“And –“I was beginning to wonder how he was still alive.

“He and his friend Juan fixed it. I gave them $10.”

He looked very pensive. “My son found out. He took all the money and locked me in the house. You know he actually put a camera in the house.”

“A camera?” I asked.

“It is supposed to be used to watch pets and children. He watches me! He can see and hear everything I do or say on his iphone.”

He looked pensive, “I love India. I don’t have to load the  dishwasher or washing machine and I can always call someone to do the work. I suppose this is my fate.”

getting away

I don't ever eat in Saravana Bhavan. Nor do my daughter and her colleagues. It is a small sign of protest which will not affect this multi million company in any way. (It only gives us a perverse satisfaction).

I was the health columnist for the Indian Express  and my daughter covered "movies, persons and personalities" in  the same paper at the time of the murder.

We were in the office when an agitated Jeevajyothi ran into the Indian Express office on Mount Road, (torn clothes unkept hair) screaming "save me." She was followed by the newspaper's security guards and Rajagopal's henchmen. The editor threw out the security guards and henchmen and we all heard her story.

Rajagopal as obsessed with her. I started when she was sixteen years old. He called her "daughter" (her father worked in Saravana Bhavan) and gave her clothes and jewelry. He even paid for her wedding to her boyfriend.

After that he started harassing her. She did not reciprocate. He kidnapped them. Her husband disappeared. She was confined to the first floor of a house on the way to Ooty. She escaped through the window and came by taxi to the Indian Express offices. Hearing about her escape, the henchmen managed to track her to the outskirts of Chennai. Fortunately the taxi driver did not abandon her but suggested that "newspaper offices" were safer than the corrupt police. 

Her husband's headless body was found later. He had been strangled. In an attempt to hide his identity they decapitated him after that. The head was found eventually several kilometers away. Rajagopal's hands were clean. Even though the chief perpetuator was his employee, no one could prove he had ordered the kidnap and murder. Rajagopal claimed it was "misplaced loyalty." The employee actually went to jail for a couple of years. I don't think he cared. His family was luxuriously provided for in the interim.

Rajagopal actually hails from a village about 20 km out of Vellore. He has developed the village (roads drinking water school). He has a "Kalyana Mandapam" (marriage hall)  there which can be hired for marriages free of cost. Even the food is free. He also helps all the villagers financially and also by providing jobs. They never say a word against him. He has a loyal workforce that would lie steal and die for him