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06/28/2013

Blowing fuses

Here is what happens when four Westerners live in an apartment planned for eight Indians: we blow fuses! Literally... Although the word is weak. The fuses did not only blow, the whole box exploded. I have to confess a heater was on as well as an AC, two magnetic plates and the washing-machine...

I quietly finished my shower in the dark (it was a Friday evening of May, at around 8 PM) and sent one of my Westerners to talk to the watchman and ask about the fuses (because the box is not in the apartment, curiously). Except that I am the "goddess" of the watchman: he refused to do anything without speaking to me! At least this is what I understand when my Westerner came back up with zero information. But actually no. The good chap had explained to my friend that 1. He had finished his shift, 2. We had to wait till tomorrow. And my friend had not understood anything!

 

This led to a heated discussion in Hindi (I had no idea I had such resources!) where, in brief, I yelled at him that I didn't care he had finished his shift, that he could be sure I was not to spend a night without electricity (it was more than forty degrees), that I didn’t believe his story of strike of the stores and that he was going to move his ass faster than this, non mais oh!


Here I have to say that 1. I yelled but it was for the form, deep down I was laughing and he could see it (even though he didn’t know really on which foot dance!) since he replied that I had well managed to get my car battery fixed on my own so I could do the same for my electricity!

And 2. I am well aware that this kid sleeps most of the time on the floor of the building ground so that it was very bourgeois and selfish of me to demand that he helped with my fuses but at some point we each have to deal with our own shit (I hope you will forgive my French but I am just trying to be honest ;) )...

 

And then...

 

(To be continued!)

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