It Was The Three Indian Ladies, In The Kitchen, With The Candlestick

Last night was the second night in a row that the power went out at 10-something pm, just as I was getting to bed. Don’t laugh at my senior citizen bedtime; by 6am I can feel the scorching sun permeating my room, and can hear the neighborhood dogs barking, cars honking, and the milkmen and the vegetable venders calling out inaudibly, so I need my beauty sleep. Anyhow, I figured that the power would be back in a few minutes, so I just used my cell phone as a flashlight while I brushed my teeth, carefully balancing my toothbrush in one hand while keeping the other free to press a button on the keypad every 10 seconds so I wasn’t left in complete darkness.

Twenty minutes later there was still no power, which also meant that the AC unit wasn’t working. Which basically meant that I couldn’t breathe because it was so hot. So I decided to take my pillow and light cotton bed sheet downstairs, where one light is always on and backup power keeps one of the fans working. I may not get any sleep, but I knew I’d at least be able to breathe underneath the fan. As soon as I got downstairs, I discovered I wasn’t the only one awake. I was greeted by the maid, (yup, there’s a maid…I will problematize this in a later entry) Usha Didi (didi = older sister, used as a term of simultaneous respect and familiarity). Two seconds later my mom came down. The three of us laughed about how funky the power was acting for a few minutes. Then I decided to push a bunch of chairs together and make a bed for myself next to the dining table, above which the backup ceiling fan was located. I felt a little silly, but had to make do if I wanted any chance of getting some shuteye.

Some ten minutes later, the power came back. Yipee! I thought, running back upstairs to my trusty AC unit, without whom I would be lost in life. But I had jumped the gun. Another two minutes and the power was out again. I sadly gathered my blanket and bed sheet, went downstairs where my makeshift bed was waiting for me, and eventually fell asleep.

...

I woke up quite groggy this morning as a result of last night’s events, so when I discovered a little lizard on the bathroom wall, I yelped like a little girl in the shower. It’s not so much that lizards scare me, just that they surprise the shit out of me. They come out of nowhere and move at lightning speed. I’ve seen them around the house a couple of times, and I’m cool with them as long as they keep their distance. This one apparently did not receive my restraining order: Please stay at least 5 feet away from Nita at all times, especially when she is trying to take a shower. The least it could have done was eat a few more mosquitoes; I woke up with a mosquito-bite triad on the back of my thigh, bringing my grand total to like fourteen or something. Not okay. I feel like I’m 5/8 mosquito or something. A few more bites and I’m bound to sprout a couple extra legs and some wings. Attractive, eh?

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. I studied for the MCAT at the PGI library and prepped for more patient interviews, since tomorrow is vitiligo clinic. On my way back, I was sharing an auto (auto rickshaw), and cracked open a biological sciences MCAT prep book. The lady sitting next to me got really excited and thought I was a doctor at PGI or something, and asked me if I could help her interpret some laboratory test results. I was flattered, so I thought I’d at least try and take a look, but of course nothing made sense to me and I could barely read it because Doctor’s Handwriting is apparently a cross-cultural syndrome. I apologized and told her I was just a visiting student, and she was really sweet about it. I also felt like it was a small victory that she couldn’t tell I was foreign. When she was dropped off a few minutes later, we exchanged a warm smile and a nod (the Indian kind, which involves sort of cocking your head to one side). It was nice.

If the mosquitoes strike again tonight, I’m taking the lizard to court.