It's that time of year when the heat brings out the worst in the household, so when they aren't snapping at each other, my family has taken to abandoning me. The dog snarls at any hint of the air conditioning being switched off. The cook was the first to head for his hometown, followed soon after by the driver who refuses to take calls, though he's texted me his bank details in the hope I'll deposit his salary without his having worked for it.
My daughter's just back from Kathmandu, where she'd gone with her gaggle of girlfriends, at least one of whom is a kleptomaniac to whom they lost wads of currency, but which hasn't prevented them from planning another escapade to Turkey. But she also wants a family holiday "somewhere in the hills - let's go, dad, it's so hot", her constant whining as irritating as the canine's growling. She's taken to locking her bedroom because she can't stand to have another person - not even the dog - warming up the air in her space, which means her nagging is delivered over the phone, which she then uses to order herself constant supplies of iced tea, chilled lemonade or ice cream from the kitchen.
My son's off to Ladakh, and because he's opted to drive there and back, he's likely to be gone for a longish spell, hoping to return when the city cools a bit, or it rains - though how he's managed time off from work baffles me. When I asked my boss for a couple of weeks off, he laughed, which I took to mean "no". It's galling to watch the city empty as friends head out to foreign parts - London, where they'll probably continue with the parties they took leave from in Delhi; favourite haunts in Europe that now resemble Little India; the US because everyone has relatives there, but also unexpected places such as South Africa and Sao Paulo. Me? I'm left to decide between having dinner at Khan Market or driving my wife to the airport because "darling, it's so middle-class to spend the summer in the city".
When she saw I appeared disinclined to taking a break, my wife took to calling up friends and family who would have her as a house guest as she plotted her great American yatra, journeying coast to coast with more pit stops than you might think feasible. Her travel agent changed her itineraries three times daily, based on her evolving schedule. Would she fly from Miami to Houston, or take the train, considering her many ports of call? Who'd drive her to Dallas? Should she stay in Manhattan at a school friend's empty pied-à-terre or in a sprawling mansion in suburban New Jersey with the attendant comforts of a family to cater full meals? Was Las Vegas worth the journey - Sarla, her friend and neighbour was having a party but hadn't offered a room - or should she attempt a trip into Canada at the time where she had acquaintances if not quite friends?
As she traced and retraced her footprints over a map marked with her comings and goings, I contemplated my bleak future. With the family away, and no sight of the staff returning any time soon, there's the dog to be walked, the garden watered, the house run. "It's just as well you're staying back," my wife consoled me, "otherwise the rest of us wouldn't have been able to go vacationing at the same time."
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