Shashi Warrier | How to Make the Most of Rainy Days

A couple that my wife Prita and I know well came to visit us on a Tuesday evening last month. Since we enjoy their company, we thought we would welcome them with a big dinner. So we spent most of Tuesday afternoon preparing something we knew they would enjoy, a creamy baked chicken dish.

Prita’s method of preparation is laborious but the result is worth it. At six o’clock in the evening, we were ready to put everything in the oven when a rainstorm arrived, followed, as usual in these parts, by a power outage. We were not worried, because the power usually comes back on within half an hour of the storm ending. I called the call center of the electric company and was told that there was an outage somewhere and that the power would be restored within the usual half hour.

Half an hour passed and our visitors were almost there, with no electricity. I called a second time and was told we would have to wait a few more hours. At this point we had to take emergency measures to produce something edible from the chicken we had prepared, so Prita set to work.

Our guests arrived before the power came on. We had lights and fans, and our tactful friends claimed that they liked the rather creamy chicken curry almost as much as its baked cousin. “I’m sorry, but we didn’t have electricity,” Prita told them, “we’ll have it tomorrow night.” She was sure she could do it because although the power company cuts the power off every Wednesday at 10 a.m., it comes back on at 5 p.m.

When we went to bed after midnight, the power still hadn’t come back on. It came back on around nine the next morning, while we were having a late breakfast, and I excused myself to check that the top tank was full and the washing machine was running. Three-quarters of an hour later, with only three minutes left in the wash cycle, the power went out again, this time without a storm of any kind. Our friends at the call center told me it was a routine maintenance outage.

Prita was upset about not having electricity all day after a night without power, but wasn’t too worried. The promised time of 5pm could be extended to 6pm or even 7pm without affecting our evening meal. But when the power still hadn’t come back on by 6pm, I called our friends again and was told that repairs were being made, but they had no idea when the power would be restored. At this point, we had been without power for over 24 hours, except for a brief 45-minute period in the morning. Prita was ready to put her work in the fridge and order dinner from a nice restaurant, but the fridge wasn’t working either, so for the second night in a row we had to make do with creamy curry.

The next morning our visitors were due to leave in the morning: they were in no hurry, as they lived only three hours away, and we were always happy to be together. Besides, the power had come back on in the early hours, while we were still asleep, and they had enjoyed hot showers before sitting down to a breakfast of homemade bread and scrambled eggs. Into this pleasant scene my repairman friend Murthy entered in tow with another man, called Vasant, a stocky, strutting man with a walrus moustache and a vaguely menacing air. “A man of influence,” Murthy said. “We have a meeting nearby, and it’s early, so I thought I’d drop by.” I was about to offer him a drink – I had bought some good Scotch for my friends – when he added, “A cup of tea would be welcome.”

“You’re lucky,” I told him, “that we have electricity.”

“Why?” he asked.

I told him about the prolonged power outages of the last few days. “Mostly because of corruption within the power company,” my engineer friend added. “You can see that the quality of the materials used, the sheet metal, the cables, and even the poles, is not at all up to expectations. The average time between outages is therefore less than half of what it should be, with all the usual consequences: long power outages, lower productivity, and higher costs everywhere. It’s worse in these coastal areas because everything rusts faster.”

“How can you say it’s bad?” Vasant asked.

“We’ve been without power for 30 hours,” my friend told me. “Imagine a small factory without power for four hours.”

“You only see one side of the coin,” Vasant said in a raspy voice. “We live in a society. Other things matter too.”

“Like what?” my friend asked.

“Like jobs and business,” Vasant said. “You see, where there is a need for three linemen, the government employs twelve. They all have to work, right? We have many battery companies here. Inverter companies. All small. All with their service people. So much business. And then there is the replacement business. So many small companies making transformers, cables, poles, high voltage equipment. All business and jobs from a few small variations in quality. Opportunities for so many people.”

“Look at Mumbai,” my friend told me. “It’s a very productive city. There are no power outages.”

Vasant laughed. “There is no space, no water. It is a house with a garden. Can you afford to live like that there?” He shook his head. “Don’t compare it to Mumbai.”

“In that case,” said my friend, “why does the electric company cut off the power during a storm? Let them leave it on. More damage, more work.”

Vasant was surprised. Then a smile appeared on his face. “Good idea!” he said. “I will suggest this idea to my friends in the government.”