Remember that small guy that is used to clean my room once a day? At least he is supposed to. Well he is often awkward, sometimes funny, speaks no English at all and lately he got beaten up. He definitely is my favourite amongst all the servants here. In the end there is a picture of him so stick with me. Recently I had found him in the hallway with his underwear on his head and since he lives, works and sleeps in the halls of my hostel I see him all the time. Mostly I encounter him when he wakes me up in the morning by slamming at my door, than he actually comes to clean. But sometimes he slams my door during day or night and even as it happens more and more I never get what he is up to.


One time he asked for dirty videos

It was some afternoon as I as laying in my bed with my laptop probably blogging or working on one of my reports for my university. He slams the door and as I sit up half to open he walks in confidentially and throws himself on my bed. I don’t know why he does that. I don’t even know his name. He says something I don’t get and seems to be pretty comfortable. To get rid of that guy in my bed I decide to simply ignore him, which usually works after a few minutes. So I am focusing again on my not-so-interesting word document when he suddenly points at my PC and says: “Sex.” Guess he knew that word. I react like some Granny and pretend to have overheard that. But he is like: “Sex.” Not doing anything. “Sex?” Looking at him. “Sex!” I am not often speechless, but now I was as he is smiling at me encouragingly. “Well…. That’s not gonna happen.” I still wonder if he does that to the other guys with their phones, laptops and iPads.

Once he got beaten up

I found him in the halls at night with his face in bandage. This time I couldn’t but compare him to Dobby. The mistreated house elf in Harry Potter. Somebody must have hit him directly in the face, his left eye was swollen and teary that he could hardly see through it. I don’t know what is normal in India but that did surprise me. Talking with hands and feet I found out that he got hit and that it was somebody from the people living in the building. Is it now better if he’d been assaulted be the guests or the owner? As I met some of the other residents a few times later I ask them if they know “…who had hit the small guy?”. “Who? The small guy who cleans? I hit him.” Pretty casual. It was one of those guys who greet me drunk sometimes. I did yell after them that they really shouldn’t punch people in the face but they didn’t mind at all. Was the small guy scared after that? His boss didn’t seem to care. The other was in obvious physical advantage. (He is like really small.) And since he sleeps in the hallway he can’t even go home or lock the door behind him. I don’t worry about myself because the guy who punched him is a lot bigger than him but still way smaller than me. Now his eye is ok again, but since all of us still live here I doubt that it is all ok for him.

Dobby Indian servant
I do miss one or two socks, but he is still here.

Too often servants find me in my bed

I always let him in because he keeps slamming the door until I do. He speaks no English at all and I gave up on communication a long time ago. If he needs to tell me something he writes it on his hand. Hindi letter scrabbled on a small hand look for me like this:

And so I usually stay in bed from where I can open the door. He walks in and carefully inspects my room. Sometimes he cleans and he always goes through my stuff. He casually grabs things and signalizes that he wants an orange of mine. “Sure.” One of my pens. (Only the first time…) My headphones. “Put that back.” My Laptop “Are you mad?!!!!!!!!!” This all happens while I a still in bed with my hat and my three blankets because Delhi is awfully cold in the winter. Today he took my Juggling clubs and pretended to beat me with them. (Quiet easy for him standing next to my bed. Quiet scary for me laying there) He probably is a nice guy, not as nice as dobby tough, but always keep one eye open to make sure he doesn’t steal something.



And sometimes he lets down his pants12583805_958791944157964_22456214_n


This is one is added later on…. I was sitting on the rooftop, reading innocently in a book on Business Model Generation (Thats just how much fun I am) as he comes to me smiling and opens his pants. I am quiet surprised and try to make him understand that I would feel more comfortable with him having his pants on. Her laughs loud, takes them of completely, drops his shirt next to them and walks to a corner to piss in the down sprout. As he picks a soap I slowly understand and watch him walking down into the house. He sings so load that you must have heard it in every room whilst he walks to some wash room to bath himself. As he comes back he carries is used under wear where I had witness it before: On his head.






Soundtrack of my Life: Chaiyya Chaiyya / Don’t Stop MASHUP!