We’re experiencing a very dry monsoon in Hyderabad, which means an overall water shortage. Farmers are depressed and we are having severe electricity problems – mainly because we are dependant on water to generate our electricity.

The unfortunate chief minister of Andhra Pradesh is sitting with both feet in his mouth. For the past four years he’s been telling his followers that the gods are very satisfied with the work he’s been doing – that’s why Hyderabad was visited by glorious monsoon seasons. Of course, everyone is now wondering what the man has sinned, as the gods have clearly turned against him. Definitely a draw back in the upcoming elections!

Although I was looking forward to the rain, I’m grateful that we spent a small fortune on a proper UPS (a power supply with battery back-up) – it makes a world of difference at home!

Poor Theo has not been as fortunate at the office, as they have been experiencing 3½- to 4-hour (scheduled) power cuts every day as part of the city’s load-shedding efforts.

Our own rugby team

Before leaving for South Africa at the end of June, Raju placed an order for a T-shirt from South Africa (never mind that T-shirts cost a third of the price in India!). Thinking that I would not buy just any T-shirt then, I decided to buy each of the staff members (Raju, Sitaram, Alex and Sajid), and Theo and I an SA rugby T-shirt.

Although Theo, Sitaram, Sajid and Alex seem to enjoy showing off their green and gold, Raju, oh complex one, hasn’t worn his once. Maybe he’s rebelling against something again … or maybe he’s just saving it for a special occasion … Whatever the case, he never tells me the real story – he just rolls his eyes. Well, I’ve tried …

Master needs rubbing

Theo picked up a cough that he struggled to get rid of. After buying expensive medicine at the pharmacy for him, the staff decided the madam’s medicine is no good (they actually said it to my face). So, they started to bring some strange ointments and drops with strong smells into the house, demanding I give them to Sir.

Some of these drops were extremely versatile – they had to be swallowed for the cough, rubbed into his body for pain and steamed into his nostrils to relieve congestion (it reminded me of that good old all-rounder, Timjan, which they claimed worked for everything – from constipation to diarrhoea …).

The evening before I left for SA, Raju entered the dining room where we were having dinner and hugged his sir’s shoulders, declaring: “I’m verrrry worried about Sir.” (eyes rolled to the ceiling with despair). “Sir lot of sick, Madammmm!” (ending on a high note). “Madam, your medicine no good! And you rubbing Sir’s chest all wrong!” (What does he know?). “You rub slowly-slowly. You must rub soon-soon-soon-soon! Tonight, I rub sir.”

Struggling to contain the wave of laughter threatening in my throat, I watched as Theo’s eyes became as big as I’ve never seen them before. As Raju explained to me how he’ll just wash the dishes after which he’ll come to his beloved sir’s room to give him a good rub, Theo, who clearly lost his appetite, executed his escape at an unusual speed.

A few minutes later the phone rang downstairs, where Raju and I were. It was Theo. He locked himself in the room upstairs and very anxiously started to threaten and plead that I must keep his (didn’t he call him his “loyal servant” in a previous post?) away from him. I’m sure I could have demanded anything my heart desired that evening, as long as I kept Raju downstairs. It took severe effort and shameless lying to convince Raju to call it a night. (Sir is in the bath. No, he always baths for a very long time, so I would do the rubbing. Yes, I promise. I’ll rub soon-soon-soon-soon …)

On my return from SA, I witnessed Raju giving Theo a head massage one evening. It hadn’t been the first time Raju had launched such an attack, and Theo would send me SMSs afterwards (while I was in SA) complaining of head aches and joking about concussion. Watching how he manhandled Theo’s head, with Theo’s face changing form every now and then as Raju pulled his scalp from side to side, I decided Raju was busy with dangerous stuff. No matter how I tried to show him how to do it gently, as soon as I returned to the couch, Theo’s features started changing again. Fearing for real concussion and permanent hair loss, I decided to once again change into a monster madam and break up the party – much to Sir’s relief!

Chennai break

We took a break over the weekend and visited Japie and Elmarie Blignaut and their two kiddies (Inge and Jean) in Chennai. We know Japie from the days when he worked at Sanlam (prior to a five-year stint in the UK). From the cold of the UK they decided to defrost in Chennai around the same time as when we moved to India.

Together we explored two of the main tourist attractions south of Chennai:

• DakshinaChitra, a colourful, diverse cultural “village” created by a non-profit organisation to promote the different cultures, art forms and curios of Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka;




• Mamallapuram, a tourist town known for its impressive rock carvings, which include a temple (the Shore Temple) and several great embossments (the pictures will show exactly how impressive).

On Saturday we checked in at the Taj Fisherman’s Cove hotel – a small paradise next to the sea with a glorious swimming pool, countless palm trees, great seafood and five-star treatment. Theo treated the two of us with a magnificent chalet almost on the beach, with rocking chairs on the porch overlooking the sea and a hammock, constantly begging me for attention.

On Sunday we were approached by another South African, James McKeown, at a restaurant – not because he heard us speaking Afrikaans, but because Theo wore his SA rugby T-shirt (despite our embarrassing performance against Australia the day before). James and his German wife, Siggi, live in Bangalore and it was great sharing the rest of the afternoon with them too.

Battle in the kitchen

Yesterday Raju was ignoring me for most of the evening, giving me occasional I-want-to-kill-you looks. What did I do? I insisted on baking pancakes for dinner – all by myself, for a change. After I told him to only watch and not touch anything, my over-the-top, over-eager observer with, I’m convinced, severe ADHD, picked up and shook all the air out of the bowl with my freshly-sifted maida (flour) in it. I had a swift, satisfying vision of picking him up by the ear and dragging him across the kitchen, but, don’t worry, I didn’t move a hair on his body. I only forced him to sit down on a chair, and I took a mouthful of wine.

Many of my friends sigh about the bliss of my “colonial lifestyle”. My opinion? Enjoy your space to

• choose and make your own tea;
• wash your special clothes according to your own time and specifications without guaranteed interference;
• wander around in your home, wearing whatever you like, without being watched – be it in the house or through the windows;
• occasionally create your own masterpieces in the kitchen (or wherever) – all by yourself;
• do whatever you want whenever you want without eyes constantly on you and questions frequently asked; and
• stare at things for as long as you like until you’ve come up with the perfect solution, without a voice freaking out behind you with: “What happened?!!”

I’m fighting for mine!

Until next time. Namaste!