I have a weak leg, so I go to our neighbourhood pool at 6 am and kick the water in the mornings. No one usually comes at that time, so I can also lower myself into an aqua jogger and "run" from one end of the pool to the other. I dio have some company though, the lifeguard and a"meditator", an old man who treads water in the middle of the pool with his eyes shut and two fingers to his forehead.

"Coaching starts tomorrow" announced the lifeguard one day, "classes for beginners."

The meditator lost his balance sank and spluttered.

"How many?"  I asked.

"Thirty" he said.

The next month was a nightmare. The adults who tried to learn found it very hard. They did not like to put their heads into the water. With two legs firmly fixed on the ground in the 4 ft pool, they sputtered and sank. They attached themselves to the side of the pool like limpets ad refused to release their hold.  Young and old women wore modified swimming costumes. The costumes had long sleeves and little skirts. Not satisfied, they wore their own innerwear or T shirts under this. They wore long leggings. The men wore Bermudas. Some of them wore T shirts as well.

I guess no one had heard of "drag." Air formed pockets in between the layers of clothing pulling the  swimmers down.

After two weeks they were promoted to the big pool with three lifeguards at attention. They still hung on to the  four side walls.

One day they were  taken to the deep end and asked to "jump'' in. After this they had to reach the wall. Any stroke, even dog paddle was fair game. Everyone did more or less what they were told. One little girl flung her self off the side, headed for the coach who was   treading water and climbed on his head. Chaos resulted, but he managed to haul her to the side (Luckily she was one of the few people wearing  X back swimsuit. Catching her was relatively easy, he lifted her  out by her back straps.

"Jump one at a time" he yelled, "jump, jump" at the cringing adults.

Suddenly a fully clothed three year old in "Lehenga dupatta" leapt in holding a box in one hand. She was not part of the class. He hauled her out.

"What are you doing? You are not part of this class!"

"Uncle " she replied accusingly, "you kept shouting jump, jump. Today is my birthday. I came with sweets because my brother is learning. You told me to jump!"

No one has  any answer for that. (Not even her wailing mother)!

Thank God the month is over and school has started. The pool is empty. The meditator and I are back in action. The good news? The children all learnt. The adults? I saw a couple of them yesterday practicing by themselves in the four-foot pool.

http://velloretimes.blogspot.in/

                    

petrol scams

Buying Petrol

Modi declared that “henceforth petrol bunks would accept credit cards for payment “ and I was very happy. Previously in the small smart town of Vellore you had to move your car to one side, avoid being bit by two wheelers, go into an office and swipe the card. Now all the attenders had a device with them! Added incentive you received some money back.

The attenders at the bunks were unhappy. Swiped bills meant no more “adjustments” were possible. Especially in taxis and other non owner driven vehicles, they asked if “you really want the bill?’ and sometimes “how much shall I write on the bill?”

I don’t know who was skimming. The workers or the owners.

I always put petrol in a particular bunk. It comes up on the left side, on the highway before the turning to my house. It is very convenient. For the last three months they have been saying, “the credit card machine is broken.”

This week I hoped the machine was repaired and went to put petrol.

“No machine, said the man , “cash only.”

There was no manager in the office and no telephone numbers for complaints.

“I don’t have enough cash,” I said.

“Go to the ATM” said the attendant.

Two young men loitering on a motor cycle immediately lifted their heads and looked at me with great interest.

The ATM was further down the road , it was already dark. The security guard frequently left the place after tying his cow across the entrance. (After all, you cannot beat the cow, it is more precious than humans).

I thought  (in my mind by now they were thugs), they  would follow me to the ATM, demand my pin no, beat me or worse.

After counting all my money and change I produced Rs 1500/. I filled the tank.

The man in front of me had put Rs 200 worth of petrol. The attendant did not reset to zero but started filling.

I shouted . “Stop, stop.”He ignored me .

I shouted louder.

Then he said “okay I will put petrol for Rs 1700. You pay me Rs 1500.”

He gave me a bill fro Rs 1500. The meter clearly showed Rs 1700.

As I was leaving a man came with a 2 liter bottle.

“I always buy 2 liters”, he said, “then they can’t cheat me. The bottle has to be full.”

All this skull drudgery seems to be  an accepted way of life!

I complained bitterly to my son. He sent me link to the website of the company. I complained. They promptly called back and promised action.

Let us see. Words and empty promises are easy.

http://velloretimes.blogspot.in/

scams

Scams

Everyone seems to have an easy way to earn money. It seems to have become the Indian way of life. From the big industrialized businessman to the bunk shop owner, everyone, young and old alike, seemed to have found ways of defrauding the banks, their parents neighbours and the general public. It has even affected our little town (now smart city) of Vellore.

My  neighbour was frantic.

"My son's car has been stolen." She said.

"From where?" I asked.

"He had parked it in the popular supermarket. He went inside for just a minute and  when he came out it was gone."

"What about his laptop and other things?"

"Fortunately," she continued," he had left it all in the office today."

It sounded strange to me. He never left his laptop anywhere. It was like an extra appendage.

The mother thought the son was an angel. She kept him on a tight leash, took his salary and gave him an allowance. He lived at home. Unknown to her (but common knowledge to the rest of us) he smoked, drank, partied took ganga and had a girlfriend. All very expensive pursuits. His car was old, used to belong to his uncle and was decrepit enough to have been given to him free. Who would possibly want to steal it?

After a couple of months, he collected the insurance money.  His mother took pity on him and bought him a new car. Then one day after a few drinks too many he blurted out the truth.

Desperate for money, he sold the car to some people from the neighbouring state. He left the keys in the ignition, they made off with the car, he made a  triple profit, insurance sale and a new car to boot!

Listening to this story another man had a brainwave. He worked, but did not earn much. His parents were wealthy, in Qatar and stingy to boot. They repeatedly told him, " you are our only son, all this for you-- but not now."

One day, when they were in India on holiday he disappeared from his office. After a couple of hours his parents got a phone call.

"Don't inform the police. leave  5 lakhs in a bag on the railway station platform and we will release your son."

"Let us speak to him," said the frantic parents.

"Ma, help, listen to them," said the  son.

"Give us two days to arrange the money," said the parents.

"We will starve your son for those two days."

The parents transferred the money and the two hours later the son turned up in a call taxi.

He paid the  driver by the time the parents came out. The mother was beating her chest and wailing. (She had not stopped weeping since he disappeared).

He was not dishevelled or hungry.

"WHere did you get money to pay for the taxi? Asked the father.

"Oh, the kidnappers took pity on me and gave me Rs 500 to reach home".

"They did not ill treat you?'

"Oh no, " they even let me have a bath---."

Dr Gita Mathai

http://velloretimes.blogspot.in/