Power outages

Power outages are fairly common in India, so it shouldn’t surprise me that I am writing this (well, the first draft of this) in the complete dark.

This outage actually appears to be isolated to the Bangalore guesthouse my husband stays in while working on his current case.  The English-speaking employee of the guesthouse assured me that this particular outage is not a city outage, but is entirely my husband’s fault!   Apparently his propensity for hot water combined with air-conditioned cool air has short-circuited the electricity three times this week.  We always did wonder why people turn the water heater off.  I guess we now know why!  

Of course, when I told my husband that amusing little theory, he quickly countered that it was impossible.   You see, when you enter the guest room, you put the key in a socket that supplies electricity to the room.   Sure, it saves energy.  But it also means, for example, that the mini-fridge is completely useless, because each time the guest leaves the room, the power goes out, thus spoiling that leftover gnocchi I so diligently saved after one dinner.  As my husband is only in the room for the sleeping hours of the day, that leaves a full two-thirds of the day with no power consumption whatsoever from the room.  I think my husband’s logic wins.  Just don’t tell the guest house guys.  I want them to keep making me toast in the morning.  

We don’t have power outages in Mumbai, so I had relaxed my guard and was a bit startled when it happened.  Fortunately, I faired much better this time around, having a nice bright computer screen to tote around the room.  It saved me from stubbing my massive big toe on something.  But it reminded me of a power outage I had experienced in Jaipur, which is an amusing/embarrassing story worthy of being re-told.

In 2009 I was doing the golden triangle tour  (Delhi-Agra-Jaipur) with my husband and some of his classmates.  The tour stopped at this amazing store, which sold inlaid marble work.  It was all incredibly beautiful, and expensive.  I didn’t even want to fork out the money for the coasters. 

It was a very hot day, so I was dressed in Indian attire, which is much cooler  (temperature-wise, not appearance-wise) than wearing jeans.  I mean, there are lots of beautiful Indian clothes, but this particular style is dorky looking.  Kind of like mom jeans in America.  It is a long tunic (very nice) paired with incredibly baggy pants (super ugly, as compared with the really cute tight pants that can also be paired with the tunic shirts).  Imagine Princess Jasmine’s pants, but covered up by a big top, thus eliminated the nice curves of her body.  We aren’t cartoons, and they just make your hips and legs look huge.   But all of that extra room for air really insulates you against the heat.  It is refreshingly cool inside the pants, as opposed to the stylish tight pants, where are super hot (temperature-wise AND appearance-wise). The upshot of all of this is that my pants had roughly a 50 -inch waist.  Similar to drawstrings that we are all familiar with, there was a flat, thin piece of cloth strung though them.  However, they were very unlike our gym shorts and pajamas in that the PJs usually have a sturdier string, and big security knots tied at the end to ensure the string doesn’t slide into the pants.  These pants had no such security measure. I, silly and un-initiated in the wearing of baggy pants, had not yet thought of the ramifications of this drawback.

One of my unspoken life mottos is to take advantage of every bathroom when traveling, because you never know (especially in India) when the next one will appear.   Also to always carry toilet paper on my person.  Taking advantage of these mottos, I used the public restroom of this marble shop right before we were planning to leave. 

The moment I sat down, the power went out.   Now, the bathroom part of the process wasn’t too bad, but the dangers of those drawstring pants!   In the darkness I lost my grip on the string, and it dashed away to hide in the folds of the baggy pants.  I tried SO hard to fish it out to re-tie, but I couldn’t find it!   The dark remained.  It was, until tonight, the longest power outage I had experienced.   Five minutes or so isn’t a long time if you are in front of your computer, or have a cell phone or flashlight.  But if you are sitting on a toilet in the pitch black, frantically trying to fix your pants so you can wear them, it is an incredibly long time!   Since the waist is twice as big as my own waist, I can’t even pull them up loosely for the short walk to the car.   They would just fall to the floor if I tried.   Grasping the pants with one hand, I finally got up to wash, figuring I’d wait until the light came back to look for the string. 

Now, everyone has bumped and stumbled through their own home in the dark.  But here I was, in a bathroom that I had never seen in my life, bumping and stumbling, with one hand protectively holding my pants up.  I honestly don’t remember whether I found the sink or not.  Thinking back, it seems highly doubtful- how would I have washed my hands if they were occupied elsewhere?  Regardless, it was still dark.  I heard people calling my name, looking for me. Everyone was ready to leave.  But where was the door?!  It took me several more minutes (well, at least it felt like forever), with one hand against the wall, searching for the door, and the other hand holding my pants up…. but eventually I found a door, and pushed through it.

Shock.   I hadn’t found the exit.  I had found the men’s room!  Complete with a man inside of it!  And light!  I was confused and embarrassed; he was amused and showed me the door.  I guess the women’s room must have had a circuit that was tripped during the power outage, because the men’s room and the rest of the building had power…. And it had been back on for a long time!

I quickly rushed though the three rooms of merchandise to our van, doing my best to keep the arm holding the pants up on the wall-side of the room. I sat in my seat, and patiently picked and prodded, until, thirty minutes later, my efforts paid off and I got the string back and securely tied my pants.   For good measure, I added knots to the end of the string, too.  

Just in time for our next stop on the tour.