Friday July 27'2012
11:55am
On Wednesdays and Saturdays, I teach in Safdarjung and get the privilege of an auto rickshaw instead of the much hated metro. I love driving in autos. It's like riding in one of the tea cups in disney land that has gone off it's track and is being steered by an angry, out of control, money hungry Indian man... that is when you actually get to ride in one. Auto drivers choose you, you do not choose them. You flag one down, ask them to take you where you need to go and most of the time they say no and zoom away, probably on to refuse another potentially fine paying customer. I'm sorry, isn't it your job to drive people where they need to go? I'm confused. But the best are the ones parked on the side of the road, sprawled out asleep in the passenger seat. You would think they might be waiting for a customer, but oh no, you'd be wrong. I swear they refused people more often than drive them, like we're inconveniencing them with our business. How do you make a living? Oh right, you live in India. My point to all this is, Mukesh has now asked every auto driver on the street to take us to Safdarjung and every one has refused. So we move to another street, same thing. We are going to be late. We quickly walk to the metro station (there are always autos hanging out at the metro). Still no. Seriously? It's not like we asking for a favour here, this is your JOB. Finally Mukesh gives up and says something with the word metro in it. Oh hell no. No. There is no way I am taking the metro on my auto tea cup day. No. So I stomp over to the first driver Mukesh asked (I have quite the aggressive strut) smile, place my hands in a prayer position, bat my eyelashes, pout a little, but not enough to look weirdly stroke like, and say, Please Safdarjung. Please, Please. Safdarjung? (yes dumbass, the same place Kevin Cosner asked for 10 minutes ago and you shook your head you lazy bastard). Yes, yes. Safdarjung. Please?
Head nod. Invite into cab. Done.
Aha! Hell yes I did! I called Mukesh over from his half climb up the stairs to the metro where he had witnessed my magic. He looked pretty broken up. I think it is safe to say it is a very rare occasion here when a woman can do something a man cannot. Especially one who deems himself so highly a bodyguard and protector. So I chose not to gloat. I wanted to. So tempted to. But I didn't. But I was definitely beaming the entire auto ride. The auto that I hired, that is.
On a side note, just to build Mukesh back up, last night he thought he was taking me to work but "it" did instead (god he just rubs me the wrong way) It dropped me from Rajouri Gardens to Patal Nagar and left. Typical. Good riddance. I get into class and a young man, one of my students, comes up to me, After class tonight, I will be walking you home (he says this very seriously). Oh no, that's ok, I live very close, I can walk myself.
Mukesh told me I have to walk you home. I will walk you home. (Oh Mukesh, you are too much, sigh) Don't worry about Mukesh. I am fine to walk alone, I promise. I've done it many times. (He looked concerned) And you can tell Mukesh you walked me anyway. He smiled, the concern disappeared. Oh Mukesh. Of course I ended up getting lost on my way home that night. A one street walk, the same walk I had done just earlier that day and I managed to get lost. Ya.
I really should be talking more about my teaching but there's really nothing worth talking about. The company itself is a mess, the studios are almost all cement floors, but the students are awesome, or at least they will be until their dreams are crushed when their knees give out. There is one student, Somya, one of the few I remember by name. I am mentoring her to teach kids ballet. So every tuesday and friday I observe and supervise while she teaches. It's funny to watch her reuse the same metaphors I use when I teach her in her class, which are actually my mom's metaphors, so in theory, my mother's legacy will live on forever half way across the world: en dehor- out the door.
11:55am
On Wednesdays and Saturdays, I teach in Safdarjung and get the privilege of an auto rickshaw instead of the much hated metro. I love driving in autos. It's like riding in one of the tea cups in disney land that has gone off it's track and is being steered by an angry, out of control, money hungry Indian man... that is when you actually get to ride in one. Auto drivers choose you, you do not choose them. You flag one down, ask them to take you where you need to go and most of the time they say no and zoom away, probably on to refuse another potentially fine paying customer. I'm sorry, isn't it your job to drive people where they need to go? I'm confused. But the best are the ones parked on the side of the road, sprawled out asleep in the passenger seat. You would think they might be waiting for a customer, but oh no, you'd be wrong. I swear they refused people more often than drive them, like we're inconveniencing them with our business. How do you make a living? Oh right, you live in India. My point to all this is, Mukesh has now asked every auto driver on the street to take us to Safdarjung and every one has refused. So we move to another street, same thing. We are going to be late. We quickly walk to the metro station (there are always autos hanging out at the metro). Still no. Seriously? It's not like we asking for a favour here, this is your JOB. Finally Mukesh gives up and says something with the word metro in it. Oh hell no. No. There is no way I am taking the metro on my auto tea cup day. No. So I stomp over to the first driver Mukesh asked (I have quite the aggressive strut) smile, place my hands in a prayer position, bat my eyelashes, pout a little, but not enough to look weirdly stroke like, and say, Please Safdarjung. Please, Please. Safdarjung? (yes dumbass, the same place Kevin Cosner asked for 10 minutes ago and you shook your head you lazy bastard). Yes, yes. Safdarjung. Please?
Head nod. Invite into cab. Done.
Aha! Hell yes I did! I called Mukesh over from his half climb up the stairs to the metro where he had witnessed my magic. He looked pretty broken up. I think it is safe to say it is a very rare occasion here when a woman can do something a man cannot. Especially one who deems himself so highly a bodyguard and protector. So I chose not to gloat. I wanted to. So tempted to. But I didn't. But I was definitely beaming the entire auto ride. The auto that I hired, that is.
On a side note, just to build Mukesh back up, last night he thought he was taking me to work but "it" did instead (god he just rubs me the wrong way) It dropped me from Rajouri Gardens to Patal Nagar and left. Typical. Good riddance. I get into class and a young man, one of my students, comes up to me, After class tonight, I will be walking you home (he says this very seriously). Oh no, that's ok, I live very close, I can walk myself.
Mukesh told me I have to walk you home. I will walk you home. (Oh Mukesh, you are too much, sigh) Don't worry about Mukesh. I am fine to walk alone, I promise. I've done it many times. (He looked concerned) And you can tell Mukesh you walked me anyway. He smiled, the concern disappeared. Oh Mukesh. Of course I ended up getting lost on my way home that night. A one street walk, the same walk I had done just earlier that day and I managed to get lost. Ya.
I really should be talking more about my teaching but there's really nothing worth talking about. The company itself is a mess, the studios are almost all cement floors, but the students are awesome, or at least they will be until their dreams are crushed when their knees give out. There is one student, Somya, one of the few I remember by name. I am mentoring her to teach kids ballet. So every tuesday and friday I observe and supervise while she teaches. It's funny to watch her reuse the same metaphors I use when I teach her in her class, which are actually my mom's metaphors, so in theory, my mother's legacy will live on forever half way across the world: en dehor- out the door.
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