The AC in the bedroom wasn’t cooling at all. Must be too hot, I thought and forced myself to sleep. It wasn’t that hot—I knew exactly why it wasn’t cooling deep down.

I don’t do a lot of chores around the house, but in an unspoken arrangement, appliance upkeep has been my area. I am pretty sure I was awarded this T-shirt by my wife for doing the bare minimum my amazing services in the recent restoration of the washer-dryer, where the only hassle I had to face was the small talk with the mechanic.

Coming back to the AC, I hadn’t cleaned its filter in more than a year. Yet, I had the audacity to blame Hyderabad’s heat.

I really like my ACs, and I think everyone should know their favorite brands. I developed a natural affinity for the Carrier brand since it was the first AC our family bought during the fabled 2004 summer in Chennai. My duty was to clean its filter every three days in peak summer. I digress.

Anyway, the Carrier AC was named after the guy who invented the AC. I liked Hitachi for the quiet noise it made and O General because its name was funny. I absolutely detest Voltas because it fails within a year. I am neutral toward LG and Samsung, I respect Blue Star, and I have a toxic relationship with Lloyd.

When I was in Bangalore, there was this advertisement with Amitabh Bachchan that repeatedly showed up, promoting Lloyd ACs on YouTube. I fell for it. Honestly, I liked Bachchan more than the AC and bought it. It lasted a year. My most recent AC purchase was that of Panasonic – weird, I know, like who even knew Panasonic made ACs?

I know what you’re thinking, why haven’t I brought up the most ubiquitous brand in India of late? Daikin. Three ACs in my house were provided by my landlord, and they’re all Daikin. My sister’s house also has Daikin. I have gotten very used to Daikin, but not because I like it—it’s just everywhere. It’s like that restaurant you go to fully knowing the food is meh, but you go anyway for the consistency they deliver in providing mediocre food.

Anyway, I am expecting a reward soon for cleaning the AC filters and bringing the room temperature down to a cozy 16 degrees.

One such cozy afternoon this past week, a little boy rang the bell and asked, “Is Sugar there?” No prefix, no suffix, just that. He seemed very polite, though. This was a very, very new situation. I began wondering about a lot of things, including but not limited to the following:

• Who sends a kid alone to ask for condiments?
• Why not order it on Zepto? They deliver in under five minutes.
• When will I get to eat sugar next? (I was in the middle of a no-sugar diet at the time. I promptly relapsed later by giving in to some yummy mixture one night.)

As I was about to walk to the kitchen to get our sugar container, the kid suddenly said, “No, no—Sugar the dog.”

My wife immediately responded, “No, there is no dog.”

The kid left, saying, “Wrong apartment, sorry.” Poor child just wanted to play with a dog.

I had some more thoughts:

• What sort of name is Sugar for a dog? Or for anybody, for that matter?
• Where does Sugar live? What breed is it? I judged myself for assuming it was a poodle. But come on—I don’t think a St. Bernard or the scary-looking Husky across the hall would be named Sugar.

My wife made me promise that if and when we have a child, and in the unlikely event that we also get a dog, if our child chooses to name the dog Sugar or something similar, I shouldn’t stand in the way.

I promised and even had a newfound sense of admiration for my wife—until she said, “You need to subtly guide them into choosing the name you want for the dog. That way, they’ll believe it was their idea, but in reality, it was yours”.