I'm being controlled by the switch that turns the fan on and the lights off. If I could, I would catch electricity, save some of it in my bag, put the rest in my locker and distribute a bit on Diwali.
"What? No! Really?" I cried in disbelief.
"Welcome to India, darling!" my best friend said with the what's-new-with-power-cuts look.
I was back, I was home, I was sweating! I was angry, frustrated and red!
Why was there no excitement in coming back home from England this summer break? Why was the 'million-pound' grin absent this time? Eighteen years and never had the oppressive summer heat of north India given me the jitters. So why now? Reason: Power cuts!
I had been warned about the sorry state of our powerhouses, and yet there was nothing that could mentally prepare me for what lay ahead. So, when I finally stepped out of the car after the exhausting journey from New Delhi to Chandigarh, home still seemed sweet, but with a hint of bitterness.
I have always resented people cribbing about 'conditions' in India after spending a while abroad. Forgive me if I sound like them, but I wonder where this nation is heading for without power to guide its people.
I'm living with a sword over my head. I wake up with the fear of there being no power and I sleep with the wicked dreams of electricity checking out of my pretty home. I'm being controlled by the switch that turns the fan on and the lights off. If I could, I would catch electricity, save some in my bag, put the rest in my locker and distribute a bit on Diwali. It's called power paranoia, I guess.
Just in case you're wondering why I haven't mentioned what happens when you call the electricity folks, the answer is: Nothing happens!
I can go on ranting, but the electricity just 'departed' again and my laptop isn't charged. I have no other option but to sign off unpredictably, just like my friend, the electricity board.
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