I found my 'jugaar'

As I opened my suitcase (piece 1 of 2 according to the customs officer), it was evident that my clothes, having traveled some 10,000 miles, were showing sign of fatigue that is to be expected after such a long and arduous journey. They were is no shape to go out like this. What they needed was a quick ironing.

The guest house does provide a free laundry and ironing service, and while this was clearly the way to go in the long run, the turn around time of two days did create a dilemma for day one and two. The staff, equipped for every eventuality but a guest wanting to do his own ironing, scurried around in search of an iron, and 10 minutes later produced a pretty impressive looking Black and Decker steam press.

The turban of the day, a sickly blue from years of washing, was folded into multiple layers and then spread over the computer desk to form the ironing board. The steam press worked like a charm, until that is, it started leaving large spots of water behind. My iron had a sprung a leak. Did I say leak, it was in fact more like it's anagram, a lake, that better describes the collection of water right around the spot where the iron was resting on the table while I tended to the fashion emergency.

As I used the heat to get rid of one water stain, a larger one started to form approximately one iron length away. Within minutes my khaki had been transformed. Large water spots all over the pants would not only leave the wearer soaked to his bone, but also convince any observer that I had had an accident. I could already picture myself standing in the middle of the street, shouting out my defense that no one was interested in; "It's no accident this. It was the iron, I swear."

Just when it seemed that all was lost, my Indian-ness returned to me. The Hussain Sagar Lake that had formed on the table was quickly soaked up by the bathroom towel and the lake's source was headed straight towards the bathroom. There, in the sink, as every last drop of water was being drained from it, a word came to my mind - jugaar. In India, nothing is ever broken, it just needs a jugaar (a fix). If the iron has sprung a leak, you don't buy a new iron, you find a way around it; you find a jugaar. There was still enough water left in those pants and as long as this iron no longer had any water, I could still use it as a steam press. I had just found a juggar.