When Rod first arrived in Delhi, one of the things he found most difficult to source was fresh milk. He bought UHT milk to put in his coffee, but UHT is disgusting on cereal. Now that's a problem for someone who cooks as little as Rod does, because it removes a whole raft of easy dinners (i.e. breakfast cereal) from his repertoire. So Rod stocked up on bread and marmite instead. He mentioned his milk dilemma to Nitti one day and she contacted the milk guy for him. In some respects the milk guy is brilliant, because he leaves two 500ml bags of milk on our doorstep every day. In other repects, the milk guy is less than brilliant, because he tries to rip us off at every opportunity.
Two months back the doorbell rings at about 8 o'clock in the evening. It's the milk guy. He's Omid Djalili but larger, and probably a good deal less entertaining. It's hard to tell, he speaks very little English. And he's sweating profusely. He tells Rod we owe him 1860 rupees for a months worth of milk. Now the milk has a price printed on each bag, and it's 9 rupees a bag. I'd expect something added on for delivery, but it doesn't take me long to work out someone's trying to take us for a ride. Bizarrely Rod has jumped to the same conclusion. We ring Farah's doorbell, the lady in the apartment across from us. She's an enormous help to us, being fluent in Hindi, Bengali and English. We explain to her the milk guy wants 1860 rupees for a month's worth of milk. She knows there's only four of us here, and wants to know how much milk we get. When I tell her, one litre, just like she does, her face tells it all. Her bill is 620 rupees a month. She has a conversation with the milk guy and while we have no idea what she actually said, we have a fair idea what the meaning of it was! Rod, standing behind the milk guy, smiling at Farah, puts on a menacing voice and asks her, "I think he's ripping me off, shall I call the police?" Police, like bus and tractor, is one of those words that are the same in Hindi and English, and milk guy sweats even more. He knows he's been rumbled. Farah tells him to go away and bring back a properly itemised bill, charging us for one litre of milk a day.
One month later, milk guy is back, with his itemised bill. Well, he's got a piece of paper with A151 on it, and the sum 31 x 40 = 1240. I tell him again that his sum is wrong. He tells me that this is the right amount, for two litres a day. I tell him, again, that he delivers one litre of milk to us. He amends the 40 to 20, and I pay him 620 rupees.
Yesterday the milk guy returns. This itemised bill has A151 and a date on it. It also bears the sum 61 x 20 =1220. I tell him again the bill is wrong, because he only delivers one litre a day. He's got the price per litre right, it's the days he has wrong. He amends the 61 to 31 (when did October ever have 61 days in it?) and I pay him 620 rupees.
So I'm waiting to see what happens next month. There isn't enough written on these bills to fudge anything else, but I'm fairly confident the next bill won't be for 620 rupees!
No comments:
Post a Comment