What goes around comes around

Karma: what goes around comes around. Though occasionally what goes
around comes around before it even goes around, which can rather leave
one wondering whether they are coming or going... in a round about
way.

My partner, Deb, and I were fortunate enough to experience karma's more
subtle workings while on an attempt to navigate the unpredictable seas
of India's postal, banking and other bureaucratic systems.

Our previous postal experience had been a disaster leaving us convinced
that the term 'postal worker' is truly a contradiction in terms in
India. Neither rain, nor hail, nor sleet, nor snow actually inside the
post office itself could have possibly added to our confusion.

In seeking to mail our package, we had to decipher a puzzle which could
give Rubicks a new masterpiece. We had to battle our way through a
complicated series of queues.

First, we lined up for the 'package weigher', then the 'package
inspector', then the 'package assessor' and then back to the 'package
weigher' again who doubled as the 'package stamper' (could the modern
marvel of multi-skilling possibly be catching on?).

Just when we had paid the assessed amount of 550 rupees and it appeared
that the worst was over, we were handed an enormous sheet of 10 rupee
stamps! The 'postal workers' seemed as perplexed as we were by the
puzzle that now confronted us. They giggled in bemusement watching
these two crazy foreigners attempt to rewrap their package entirely in
stamps.

Back once more to the 'package inspector' (of course) who rejected our
package! "Make your package bigger" he muttered "to fit the stamps",
and no, we could not return our stamps for a refund. We left, deluded
and dejected, but sadly not de-packaged.

Our package artificially enlarged, we set out for another bout of
postal insanity, attracting the attention of three scruffy young boys
along the way. Despite our warnings that it would be a long and boring
day, they insisted on accompanying and helping us. We were suspicious
that their company would come at a price, but also thought that it may
have just been (natural) Indian curiosity. The locals can sometimes be
unduly attentive and affectionate. I once had a fresh faced 18 year old
lad miss his doctor's appointment just to spend time with me. He held
my hand more than any girlfriend ever has and on parting shed more
tears than my mother on my leaving for India. "Time waits for no man!"
he sobbed running alongside the bus that sped me from his life.

Our new young friends were indeed helpful and patient while we traipsed
around town from one tiresome errand to the next and so during the
course of the day, Deb and I secretly conspired to buy the skinny
things lunch. Miraculously, as if in reward for our intended
generosity, things progressed much more smoothly from this point. The
bank stayed open late for us and the post office (a different one) was
efficient and even sane.

We offered our three faithful companions a snack for their silent
endurance. They politely declined asking that we buy them schoolbooks
instead. How touched we were! We quickly trekked to the bookshop, the
darlings selected their books and then the rupee dropped - it was a
scam! The boys intended to return the books and keep the proceeds. We
had seen this before in Mumbai, only with milk powder bought for
'babies' by unsuspecting foreigners.

Disappointment and disillusionment all around as we stormed off, our
three junior Faigins meekly bleating last minute requests for "maybe
just a few samosas then?". The long faces of the three would-be
scammers reflected the pain of an even longer day invested in boredom
for absolutely no reward.

Karma: what goes around comes around...