Kishore Singh: An electrical storm

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Given Delhi's very strange weather in the last months, we should have expected the electricity bill to be high "" we were still using the air-con at night, and also needed to keep the geysers going for warm water "" but when it came, it knocked us off our feet. Drastic measures were called for; we simply couldn't afford any more power bills that high.

By now, of course, even the fans were off, but the geysers were doing overtime since the children wanted hot water every time they washed their faces and hands.

The maid wanted hot water for doing the dishes, the part-timer for swabbing the floors, and even the car cleaner demanded "" not unreasonably "" hot water for washing the dust off the cars.

The geysers would need to stay on, but henceforth, instead of having them on at all times, the timings would be strictly regulated, said my wife, who also decreed that wasteful consumption of electricity was to be discouraged.

To start with, the children were told the bread was not to be toasted in the toaster any longer. "The cook can roast the bread for you on the griddle," she said. "But I like crisp toast," protested my son. "And I like low electricity bills," his mum said.

They were not to have toasted sandwiches either, the mixie wasn't to be put to use for making them milkshakes, and meals were to be eaten as soon as they were served, so that the microwave would not need to be pressed into service for reheating their food.

The cook was told she was not to use the electric egg-whip for making omelettes, or the electric beater for preparing the dough for cakes.

In fact, where was the need to bake at home when everything was available in the market? The part-timer found to her dismay that the washing machine would be used less and less, so she should be prepared to do the family washing.

We were all told to knock at the front door instead of wasting electricity ringing the doorbell. "Switch off all lights when you leave a room," my wife policed us every time we stepped out of a room "" even if it was to fetch a glass of water.

"I'm sure you don't need to take so long to check your e-mails," she told my son when he switched on the computer. "I need to check some information on the net for a project I'm working on," my son insisted.

"Then check it the old-fashioned way," she said above his protests, guiding him to the bookshelf with its dusty encyclopaedias; "if it was good enough for us, it's good enough for you."

My daughter's friends who came over were not permitted to switch on the CD-player. "You can sing yourselves," my wife attempted to coax them, "what's the point listening to all this artificial music?"

They were allowed to watch TV, however, as long as they didn't need to keep on any other light in the room. But because sitting in the dark to watch TV isn't healthy for the eyes, she condescended to light some candles in the room: "How romantic that looks," she explained.

What we didn't know till the following morning was that she'd forgotten to switch on the geysers. Because of the no-lights rule in the house, she slept late, so when I went for my bath, it was to find there was no hot water to be had.

What with one thing and another that included an exchange of words too polite to repeat here, we're back to enjoying the pleasures of having electricity in the house again. Almost worth the cost of having to go without a bath for one day.