The Man in the Lift
My friend Pieter points out that the blog has become very soppy and soapy.
Having covered romance, heartache, pregnancy, foreign languages and men dressing in women’s clothes – I think that all the core elements of a soap drama have been covered. So, let’s get back to talking about India.
One of the interesting things in India is “the man in the lift”. A large number of lifts do not only come equipped with buttons to select your desired floor, but also with someone to push the buttons for you.
I have almost daily interaction with the “lift man” because of the one at our office building. Unfortunately he does not speak any English or Hindi. He only speaks Telegu, so our interaction is limited to hand gestures, pointing and facial expressions.
Here is our “lift man”:
I still don’t know his name, nor the full extent of his duties. I think he also does some cleaning around the office block (on the outside), but I’m not sure – and it is difficult to discuss such matters via sign language. I don’t think he works for my company (I suspect he works for whomever owns the building), but I can’t be sure. The only thing that I know is that he is a very friendly and pleasant man.
Now you might think it is a pretty big lift that justifies a full time “lift man”. Let me try and give you an indication of the size of the lift:
I’m not sure whether you can see how small the lift is from the pictures, but to put it in words – it feels crowded when it is just me and the “lift man” in there!
If you are unhappy with your office / desk, imagine having this for an office. No windows, lots of people cramming into your space and the only view you have is a door that occasionally opens.
Another feature of India – one that is only really applicable to “firangi” (foreigners) is “lift tax”. Lift tax becomes payable (sometimes) when you as the foreigner are alone in the lift with the “lift man”. A token of appreciation for a job well done (button well pressed) is asked sometimes.
India has lots and lots of people looking for money, with a lot of “bikari” (beggars) roaming the streets. It is impossible to contribute to everyone, so I pick my “causes” and our “lift man” is one my “causes”. So once or twice in a month I slip him a Rs100 note (about R20). This is immediately followed by his hand moving to his forehead and the bowing of his head (a sign of thanks/respect). I made another contribution today and got the same response, after which he took out his glasses and showed me that it is broken. (I assume that today I contributed towards a new pair).
The incredible thing is that the “tip” which is not a lot of money, is probably more than his pay for the entire day. People really get by with the absolute minimum in India. I also trust (although it is impossible to verify) that the money normally goes to something to improve his and his family’s lives – e.g. a new pair of glasses.
“Lift tax” however brings some perks with it. If my car stops in the street, the lift will not close. It will be kept open until I arrive at the lift. Also whenever I enter the lift our “lift man” stands up, he never sits while I’m in the lift.
Incredible India! A place where it is easy to get lost and feel hopeless amongst the poverty, but also a place where it is possible to make a difference in someone else’s life, at a small cost to yourself.
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Pieter
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Pieter
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http://www.theoscheffler.com Theo
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http://www.theoscheffler.com Theo
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Pieter
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Pieter
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Marga
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Marga
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Les Griffin
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Les Griffin
Theo Scheffler