Time to Change

What is a 500 rupees note nowadays? Nothing , really. Three coffees and you are left with maybe a hundred rupees, or even less. Sometimes Rs.500 isn't enough for three coffees. This is what the value of a 500 rupees note has reached. So, you'd think the I000 rupees note should be slightly more valuable but not so valuable at the same time? Throw away money? Money to burn? Maybe in your world.

In mine, it's a bloody pain to have a 500 rupees note, so let's not even talk about I000.

My days and thoughts have begun to be consumed on how to procure some change. Every auto valla wants change- I mean really, THEY are the ones who take people around all day and are probably asking each one for change , right? Or is it that when its my turn to pay, the auto valas have given away all their change to customers before me? Am I just so unlucky?

What about Barista? Surely, they should have some change.It only makes the most sense. They are a chain of very famous and well known coffee stores run across the entire country. What excuse do they have? Oh, I know- the banks haven't opened yet. So when I hand them a I000 rupees note (that the ATM has happily spat out at me) , they apologise and ask (read- DEMAND) for change. We can give you two 500's, if you give us a I00. Would I be having this innane conversation if I had a I00 to give you? My battle with barista is lost too.

No one has change. I have no money to get into a rickshaw (two notes of a I000 and I'm as broke as the beggar tugging at my shirt). I have twenty minutes to get to my shoot.

All is lost. Except, if I go grocery shopping -which is so unecessary ,yet the only answer. Ten minutes later, with a few bags of dal and MDH Dhania powder to my name, and ofcourse the much needed CHANGE- I jump into an auto and head towards my appointment.

I can't help but think someone is plotting against me. What do you think, dal-ing?

Kya dekh rahe ho?

The one thing that I learnt whilst living/working in Delhi was that Defcol is a great place to live, Lodhi Gardens a gorgeous place to walk,  qawalli night at the Dargah is my favorite thursday night outing with cousin S , Martina was a rockstar hair styist,Wills fashion week is a pain in the ass, nothing compared to chinese food with Dev and our brilliantly hectic pool visits to the farm . Did I say the "one thing"? I obviously meant the gazillion things I  learnt and loved. AADI, B-5, talking trees, the roads, the weekend home visits, the Shatabadi, PG, Saroj.....and the autos.

Autos. How many autos denied me a ride across town? Why? Because I wouldn't pay the insane amounts of money they asked for, because I was asking to go from one end of the city to the other, just because they didn't feel like it? How many hours did I spend in the sun BAKING waiting for an auto to take me to my destination even though I was standing opposite an auto stand? Hours (not to mention i had huge bags with me one particular horrendously hot day). They just didn't want to take me. Oh! The arguments over metres and fares and the waiting...I'd have rather walked most of the times.

This I thought was a Delhi phenomena. Mumbai was so much nicer, they put the metre on without so much of a peep (peep peep , don't sleep), took you wherever you wanted, forever available. The dhik chik music, the funky colours, the little light in the autos- bliss! 

A year later and I am back in Mumbai eagerly awaiting my happy rides in the autos. It took me a day to get into one, now that there is a car (and brother) to ferry us around. Looking forward to my day in an auto, I walked/semi skipped out of the house- looked around and didnt see my three wheeled chariot anywhere in sight.Ten minutes later, we were off. Little did I know how the day would turn out. I was denied by two autos, told a metre wasnt working then waited on the side of the road for thirty minutes trying to catch a ride home. My half-skip eventually become a near crawl thanks to sticking my hand out for so long and asking the same question fifty times and hearing the same answer ,"Gas nahi hai, madam.". Finally, when we did get an auto, the chap didn't know where four bungalows was. So here we were, in Mumbai- my auto dream shattered, driving aimlessly into the horizon and wondering how we are going to get around tomorrow. 

I know it is partially because of the strike but why!! why does it have to be like this?

This post is like a Simpson's episode- it started somewhere and has ended nowhere. D'oh!