Living independently in a big city
has its challenges, adventures, and observations.
Its
not regularly that I have to change a light bulb. For all you know,
if a bulb conked off, I would just use the other lights in the room
till S replaced it. But this time it was Cassie’s bulb that conked
out and I just had to replace it. It was a matter of Cassie’s very
existence.
For
those who don’t know, Cassie is a cockroach-shaped black paper
cutting stuck on the inside of a lampshade. She comes to life only
when the light is switched on and appears like a real cockroach. It’s
a curiosity for our family to watch every visitor’s response to the
presence of Cassie in the house. Reactions range from amusement to
disgust. Yes, its a crazy thing.
So
I gently removed the spiral bulb from its socket and walked down to
the street where there are a row of shops which sell everything from
school textbooks and organic eggs to electrical equipment.
The
first shop I saw had no name and seemed to sell sockets and bulbs but
it was so messy with boxes, ropes, and whatnot, that it seemed like
it was probably about to shut down.
I
walked ahead till I came to a fairly decent shop which had neatly
organised shelves stocked with bulbs etc. of different brands and
designs. I showed Cassie’s bulb to the young man at the counter.
Peering
close at the bulb he said,
“This
one has threads. We don’t have those anymore.”
I
had been too sure of finding the right bulb in this shop.
“Where
can I find one like this?”
“Try
in that shop,” he said pointing to the shop with no name.
Retracing
my footsteps, I arrived there again. A man with irregular facial
features was pottering around looking for something. His chin was too
weak and his forehead too large. Fine wispy hair fell onto the sides
of his head. He was dressed in a formal full-sleeved shirt and
trousers.
None
of the shopkeepers in this street smile at customers. Neither did he.
“Do
you have a bulb like this?” I asked.
He
twirled the bulb that I handed out in his hands and nodded. Then he turned to the haphazard pile
of about a hundred unmarked brown cardboard boxes containing bulbs
and started searching for the type of bulb I wanted. I feared whether the whole pile would come crashing down while he fumbled with
the boxes.
Finally
he found a bulb which had threads but it was smaller and whiter
than the one I had shown.
He
asked,
“Do
you want one that is bigger with a golden light?”
“Yes,
please, do you have one like that?”
Again
he turned to his shaky pile of boxes.
What
he did next was amazing.
He
located a box somewhere in the lower left corner of the pile and
poked it with his long finger till it slid out of the pile from the
other side without disturbing the balance of the shaky arrangement.
Some
odd logic of arrangement or a strong memory helped him to find the
correct box.
This
box had the very bulb that would suit our Cassie.
On
the walk back I wondered whether there was a ‘method in the
madness’ of that shop.
