Just a Brick in the Wall

Living vicariously can be a real thrill. That must explain why every Tom, Dick and Harry [or Jane, Lily and Rose] who visits LA for the first time [or even the second, third or umpteenth time] ends up signing up for a bus tour that showcases the houses of the rich and the famous. I know I’ve done this on at least three different occasions. Prior to Tuesday night, I’d never imagined that my gareebkhana would make it to the itinerary listing of a bus tour.

So imagine my surprise when on Tuesday night Man of the House [henceforth known simply as MOH] told me that on Thursday morning, between 9 a.m. and 12 noon a whole group of realtors on a “bus tour” of “potential sales/investment properties” would be stopping by to examine our casa. You’ll remember that we’re picking up the stakes and moving. Our house has been on the market for a month now. MOH announced grandly that at the end of the tour, the members of the guild would pick the house with the highest “curb appeal” as the “House of the Month.”

Ms. Maggi turned panic mode on: Whoa! A bus full of realtors? It was the fag end of a long hectic Tuesday and MOH had thrown news of such import so casually. Sigh! What was I to do? When all else fails, eat. My ultimate panacea for all ailments. A sizeable dinner of hot rice, cold curds, soggy chips and spicy plantain flower sabzi later, my numb brain sprang into action. The result? A frantic phone call to Haydee, my personal whirling dervish at work [read, cleaning lady]. She promised to come by the next morning and “do her magic.” Whew! Close call. Thank goodness Haydee did not have another cleaning engagement on Wednesday morning. Ms. Maggi turned panic mode off.

To cut a long story short, it is Thursday night. The tour did take place this morning and a bunch of strangers did walk through my most private space. What’s more, they filled out comment cards on the curb appeal of my house. Yuck! The comments were fine [except for the predictable ‘Your house smells like “curry.” You must think of using air fresheners’ remark.” Erm, well, I am South Indian…and no, I don’t cook “curry” everyday, thank you very much. Grr!] Every single tour member commented that the house does have great curb appeal. They loved the clean open floor plan. They marveled at the interiors and wondered how I managed to keep everything so neat and clean. Am I happy? You bet not. What’s ticking me off is the fact that I feel violated somehow. People [who do not know me] walked around my house and looked through my kitchen shelves and the fridge and the pantry. They looked into my laundry room. They checked out my personal pictures and souvenirs. I’m pretty sure they walked into my puja room with shoes on their feet. They saw what my bed looks like, and they must’ve figured out what brand of toothpaste I use.

How do famous people deal with the loss of their privacy? Do I want to be rich and famous? Rich, yes. Famous, not so sure. I like being a nameless face, a brick in the wall, thank you very much.

Glossary:
gareebkhana = Poor house (Hindi)
Puja = Ritualistic prayer (Sanskrit)