At The Mercy Of A Plumber

We discovered that our bore well had become defunct, just when we thought, “Thank God! It is Friday!” The corporation laid their services to rest for three days straight; the overhead tank had about enough water to drown a rat. So we did the square thing. We bought our water and called up our family plumber. Since Man Friday was engaged in more important work and gave us the number of a firm which dispatched trained professionals to attend to the repairs.

The call was duly made and the certified plumber was not available on that day. He refused to work over weekends, on principle. When Murphy’s Law is in motion, what can mere mortals do?

So Monday, it had to be! The plumber signed in the late afternoon as promised and looked into the problem postprandial. He declared that the tube well had dried up. After registering our expression of shock, he told us that the water was blocked by slush. Then he busied himself with some urgent call leaving us to figure out his diagnosis. Baffled we were, but not ruffled enough till he rattled various options, including a suggestion that we must go in for a new deeper bore well. He waxed eloquently about climate change, truant rainfall direct result of cutting trees et al. Life had taken a full circle; we had to listen to a subject that we were well versed in both in theory and practice. Lecture done, he instructed us to axe down the jasmine creeper that sprawled over his work area. Then he ceremoniously looked at the clock, called it a day and gave us an appointment for the following afternoon.

The red-lettered day dawned. An apprentice arrived in the morning, did the spadework or rather axe work, bought the necessary hardware and waited for his boss and the machinery. The specialist arrived at 3 pm and we furtively looked at the clock and asked him to hurry up, lest he got into the Cinderella mode. He was piqued and declared that people who were always in a rush ended up in doomsville, completely forgetting that he had made us wait for days.

Repair done, he handed over a pre-printed bill, which was duly paid. We bid adieu but he lingered on and smiled and smiled till we took his broad hint and tipped him (over). He just proved, that one can always make a pro out of a skilled Indian, but cannot “chai paani” proof them.