There is something about a lift ("elevator" for the American reader) which cuts the most gregarious of individuals to size. The moment he enters the lift, he is suddenly tongue tied and a caricature of his former chirpy self. Like the rest of the bovine individuals in the lift, he stands transfixed, his eyes downcast, his head hung low and his arms limply clasped at the waist. It's almost as if everyone in the lift is attending some funeral service- gone is the mirth and merriment. Conversation even between chums comes to a grinding halt- they stand like dummies, as if unrelated to each other and to humanity at large! The silence hangs uncomfortably as the floors go by and you heave a sigh of relief as you get out of the lift into environs... hopefully more sunny!!
Occasionally, you are joined in the lift by someone who is still busy on his cell phone. Though it always picks your curiosity to overhear someone else's cell phone conversation, it is rarely juicy- at least what's discussed in the confines of the lift. You are suddenly assailed with names and relationships- "bunty", "pinky", "daadu" and "chaachu" which make absolutely no sense to you. You wish this cross talk would end...... and it thankfully does. The cell phone signal strength drops and it finally loses breath and our speaker is struck with a sudden panic attack. The lift reverberates with frantic shouts of "hello", "hello", "can you hear me?"...and "mausiji", "mausiji!!" in increasing decibel levels till he finally gives up. He ruefully comments on "airtel" or some other service provider for the lousy service and spends the rest of the time in the lift fiddling with his cell-phone to initiate the conversation once more. But then, he forgets... the lift permits no conversation. The funereal atmosphere returns and rightfully so.
The dog is man's most faithful friend. He might be the owner's best friend all right, but the canine breed simply doesn't inspire the same bonhomie in the rest of us. We have a morbid fear of dogs and detest their proximity. The feeling is mutual and the dog views us with equal suspicion and unfriendliness. When ties are so openly strained, sharing the lift space with a dog and its even more intimidating owner....is verily an interminable ride through hell! The dog seems to single you out for its special attention - it hovers around your ankles, sniffs and licks your toes. You try hard not to make eye contact with him... even as he looks at you..unfazed.. straight in the eye. You hold your breath, clench your teeth in fear (which the dog unfortunately interprets as an open act of aggression), repent for your sins, say your last silent prayer.....and hope.. hope that this nightmare will come to a close, but the lift ride ain't ending any time soon!
The lift is not without its comic moments. As the door is about to shut, there is always that last person outside who chooses to stick some protruding part of his anatomy or an appendage like a briefcase and hopes that the door will open to let him in. I actually accosted one bloke who stuck his foot in... on what he would have done had the lift door jammed his foot. "Dude! Had the door shut on my foot, I would have simply let go of my shoe!" was his prompt reply.
Then, there are others who cannot find room in the current lift. They don't have the patience to wait for the next one too. Invariably, they press the button too soon. The lift door elaborately opens...with a flourish... and reveals the same occupants who are still held hostage!
Kids will be kids... they press every floor button inside the lift and eject out of it... leaving the rest of the occupants high and dry. We now have a passenger train which huffs and puffs and halts at every wayside station leaving our patience running really thin. Like the old grandma's tale which says that a "pencil eraser can be made with a mixture of pencil shavings soaked in milk", there is a theory that every lift is equipped with that magic button which will transform this passenger train into a veritable TGV express, which will go in one sweep from the top floor to the bottom without stopping on any floor. There have been many who have tried this option....with little success. Worse, in their exuberance, they accidentally moved their finger to a floor button which was left unselected by the kid, which will now register this fellow's signature!!
I agree that it is terribly confusing.. As you wait for the lift, you have 2 buttons- to go up or down. You are standing on the lowest floor and need to go to the top floor. The visual display shows that the lift is on one of the top floors. "Which button should you press?"... is a perennial riddle. If you press the button to "go up", someone comments, "Dude! The lift is already at the top. You need to bring it down. Press the 'go down' button!" If you press the "go down" button, there is an opposite irritated reaction - "Saar! You need to go up. Why would you press the 'down' button? It will now go to the basement parking lot!"
Some lifts in Chennai are equipped with a double grilled door. The moment you get inside the lift, you need to close both the doors (without jamming your fingers), for the lift to spring to action. An audio prompt is intended to educate us. It screams, "Daivu seidu kadavai moodavum. Please close the door... daivu seidu kadavai moodavum... please close the door!" Chennai and its weather can challenge the most sturdy. A lift with a double door and a relentless audio prompt takes the challenge to a different level. The voice somehow provokes you... especially when you have registered the request and are taking pains to attend to it. Like Arjuna angrily lashed out at the "ashariri-vaak" (divine voice) in that famous Yaksha Prashna episode of the Mahabharata, you have half a mind to punch the person with that voice... right in the solar plexus.
But..like the Yaksha, the voice taunts you even more.. "daivu seidu.... Please close the door!... Please close the door!"
In exasperation, you give up and shout.... "If YOU shut up, I will definitely shut the door.. and I will do it faster!!!"
Occasionally, you are joined in the lift by someone who is still busy on his cell phone. Though it always picks your curiosity to overhear someone else's cell phone conversation, it is rarely juicy- at least what's discussed in the confines of the lift. You are suddenly assailed with names and relationships- "bunty", "pinky", "daadu" and "chaachu" which make absolutely no sense to you. You wish this cross talk would end...... and it thankfully does. The cell phone signal strength drops and it finally loses breath and our speaker is struck with a sudden panic attack. The lift reverberates with frantic shouts of "hello", "hello", "can you hear me?"...and "mausiji", "mausiji!!" in increasing decibel levels till he finally gives up. He ruefully comments on "airtel" or some other service provider for the lousy service and spends the rest of the time in the lift fiddling with his cell-phone to initiate the conversation once more. But then, he forgets... the lift permits no conversation. The funereal atmosphere returns and rightfully so.
The dog is man's most faithful friend. He might be the owner's best friend all right, but the canine breed simply doesn't inspire the same bonhomie in the rest of us. We have a morbid fear of dogs and detest their proximity. The feeling is mutual and the dog views us with equal suspicion and unfriendliness. When ties are so openly strained, sharing the lift space with a dog and its even more intimidating owner....is verily an interminable ride through hell! The dog seems to single you out for its special attention - it hovers around your ankles, sniffs and licks your toes. You try hard not to make eye contact with him... even as he looks at you..unfazed.. straight in the eye. You hold your breath, clench your teeth in fear (which the dog unfortunately interprets as an open act of aggression), repent for your sins, say your last silent prayer.....and hope.. hope that this nightmare will come to a close, but the lift ride ain't ending any time soon!
The lift is not without its comic moments. As the door is about to shut, there is always that last person outside who chooses to stick some protruding part of his anatomy or an appendage like a briefcase and hopes that the door will open to let him in. I actually accosted one bloke who stuck his foot in... on what he would have done had the lift door jammed his foot. "Dude! Had the door shut on my foot, I would have simply let go of my shoe!" was his prompt reply.
Then, there are others who cannot find room in the current lift. They don't have the patience to wait for the next one too. Invariably, they press the button too soon. The lift door elaborately opens...with a flourish... and reveals the same occupants who are still held hostage!
Kids will be kids... they press every floor button inside the lift and eject out of it... leaving the rest of the occupants high and dry. We now have a passenger train which huffs and puffs and halts at every wayside station leaving our patience running really thin. Like the old grandma's tale which says that a "pencil eraser can be made with a mixture of pencil shavings soaked in milk", there is a theory that every lift is equipped with that magic button which will transform this passenger train into a veritable TGV express, which will go in one sweep from the top floor to the bottom without stopping on any floor. There have been many who have tried this option....with little success. Worse, in their exuberance, they accidentally moved their finger to a floor button which was left unselected by the kid, which will now register this fellow's signature!!
I agree that it is terribly confusing.. As you wait for the lift, you have 2 buttons- to go up or down. You are standing on the lowest floor and need to go to the top floor. The visual display shows that the lift is on one of the top floors. "Which button should you press?"... is a perennial riddle. If you press the button to "go up", someone comments, "Dude! The lift is already at the top. You need to bring it down. Press the 'go down' button!" If you press the "go down" button, there is an opposite irritated reaction - "Saar! You need to go up. Why would you press the 'down' button? It will now go to the basement parking lot!"
Some lifts in Chennai are equipped with a double grilled door. The moment you get inside the lift, you need to close both the doors (without jamming your fingers), for the lift to spring to action. An audio prompt is intended to educate us. It screams, "Daivu seidu kadavai moodavum. Please close the door... daivu seidu kadavai moodavum... please close the door!" Chennai and its weather can challenge the most sturdy. A lift with a double door and a relentless audio prompt takes the challenge to a different level. The voice somehow provokes you... especially when you have registered the request and are taking pains to attend to it. Like Arjuna angrily lashed out at the "ashariri-vaak" (divine voice) in that famous Yaksha Prashna episode of the Mahabharata, you have half a mind to punch the person with that voice... right in the solar plexus.
But..like the Yaksha, the voice taunts you even more.. "daivu seidu.... Please close the door!... Please close the door!"
In exasperation, you give up and shout.... "If YOU shut up, I will definitely shut the door.. and I will do it faster!!!"
