India Trip ‘08: The arriving, Part II

Oct 18, The check out process at Delhi airport was expectedly short & sweet, something that you aren’t necessarily used to for Air India flight for eg. I walked out of the scanning eyes and questions of the custom officers as a winner, and rolled my trolley through the sea of people in the waiting area. Manish, my brother-in-law had been waiting for hours, though, and thought I took a long time (how perspectives can be different). The first impressions of India, this time as well, were those of a foreigner. It was still dark out, and there was a blanket of strange haze over the entire area. I enquired, but nobody was sure whether it was fog, or pollution. The first new thing that I noticed was the huge gas cylinder in the trunk of the taxi and took up 3/4th of the room. The taxis and autos now run on CNG in Delhi, and, supposedly, this has reduced pollution levels significantly in the capital.

Next up was the train journey from Nizamuddin railway station to Doon. The maruti van we boarded to go to the station looked like a match box. The van shrinks further every time I see it, but fits well on the busy Indian roads. The traffic for one wasn’t that bad thanks to the wee hours of the morning. After watching news and talking to people back in India, over the period of 4 years, I had developed an image of changed India. Unfortunately, so far I had seen none. I didn’t have to wait long, though. As soon as we reached Nizamuddin, I got the first glimpse of prospering India.

Right next to the station, I spotted the Comesum restaurant, a food chain. This seemed to have been modeled based on the food courts back in the west. The place wasn’t built on a big piece of land but still was able to pack in variety of food stalls, plenty of seating area, and a party hall on the first floor. In fact, right next to the entrance, I also noticed a little carousel for kids and a pick-a-soft-toy game that is often placed at the entrance of a Walmart store in the US. It also played jazzy music from time to time. The menu had a wide variety of food items to satisfy your passion of the day, starting from North India style of food to South Indian, and also Chinese items, namely the noodle. On one side was big sweet stall, and on the other a setup for mocktails, and then a kulfi wala in the middle of no where. Mostly young crowd continued pouring in throughout the evening. We ordered North Indian style, and man the food was great. Back in the US, this is one thing we miss. It’s hard to understand why the cooks over there are not able to pick up the recipe from here. The food items are completely bland in taste, and in fact lately, most Indians, including me, have been giving up on Indian food. The new fan is the Gora.

Next to the restaurant, homeless still slept on the naked road in a weird position. The lifelessness of his body and posture brought pity. Right next to him, 2 dogs slept as well who looked much more comfortable, though. The coolie still charged 50 Re to carry our luggage to the platform and into the train. Manish starting walking away saying that it’s not worth more than 30 (a bargaining style I have totally forgotten now), but I asked him to do it for 50 as I thought it was cheap. May be I was wrong, but on the first day I was tempted to spend a little more as I felt the poor man could make a little extra money. (TO BE CONTD)

India Trip ‘08: The arriving, Part I

Oct 17, The day finally arrived, and the dull, but interesting bachelorhood days were brought to an end. We started off a little early for airport, roughly at 4PM because we expected traffic; Fridays are usually days for weekly business travelers to head back home. But we were wrong, and we were near the airport in about ½ hr. With so much time to kill, we decided to visit the food court right before the airport exit on I-90 highway. The airport was only 5 minutes away, and we could leave whenever we wanted. This food court is built across the interstate, like a bridge, covered from the top and has glass walls. We sat on a table by the window hanging almost in the middle of the highway. We sipped on our Starbucks coffees while looking at the oncoming cars zoomed past under us at high speeds. It felt almost like being in a 3D movie, where they intentionally throw things at you to create an illusion. I said goodbye to Sameer at 5:30, checked in stuff and boarded at 7ish, but we only got out of there 1 hr late, at 8:30. Eventually, there is some gross weight requirement, at New Delhi airport, for the plane, and when they measured it, the weight exceeded the maximum allowed. So, then, they had to ask some of the last minute passengers to get off, and then we had to wait for their checked-in items to be unloaded.

This was my first trip by American airlines. This is the only direct flight from Chicago to Delhi, taking 14 hours. Each passenger gets his own individual TV screen running multiple shows, so that helps kill some time. The food was not so bad, but the seats not very comfortable. I tossed and turned the entire night, but the lady next to me went straight to sleep the moment the dinner was over, and got up only a few hours before landing. She seemed like a frequent traveler and exhibited comfort right from the moment she showed up. She also knew some of the other minute but important details about the plane, for eg, when the seat in front was reclined, she knew the TV could be pulled out a little for better view. Then she used the foldable head strap to provide support while sleeping. I greedily kept an eye out for her and followed all her hat tricks. In the end she took it way too far though. We were cruising at 7000 feet almost ready to land and everybody was belted in their seats. It was morning time and the lavatory had been busy. She thought it was perfect opportunity to empty her bladder, but the moment she got up, she was immediately yelled back by the staff member.

We had taken off late from Chicago, but reached New Delhi airport 5 minutes before time. It reminds you of one of the remarks from the standup comedian, Seinfeld. If the plane could cover the distance in 13 hrs, why would it do it in 14 on timely flights? Why not go as fast as you can? There has to be some logic behind this, I am sure. This flight also has an unusual route. It goes north, first, crossing Canada, and Iceland, and, then down and east then into Russia, eventually into Afghanistan and Pakistan before finally entering India. Again, the logic says that if you want to go from point A to B, you go straight, which is over Europe. But according to the airlines, this is the most efficient (time & fuel wise) way to cover this long the distance. They also mentioned that this was the second longest flight for American, the first being the one from Delhi to Chicago. (TO BE CONTD)

Special Pasta

The very first day, itself, when I met him in the office, he talked about it. It was on his mind for a long time. He had heard so many stories from other desis about this special pasta that when we discussed Friday lunch, he immediately brought up this place. The only problem was that it was 25 miles away, so the pasta always ended up eaten tomorrow. He marketed it well, though. He said that since we were going by I355 (highway), it wont take more than 30 minutes one way and with 30 minutes to eat, we could make it in 1 1/2 hrs. Yet, every Monday we met and discussed last Friday's lunch we promised to go there that Friday.

Until almost 10 months later, that one Friday Raj & I finally decided to give it a try. Our other two Friday lunch regulars excused out, but I with my Bachelor spirits kicking decided to do it alone with Raj. It took us exactly 35 minutes to hit the place. The restaurant was located in a hotel and when we went in, only one table was full, not very heartening I would say. We seated ourselves a bit apprehensively and enquired about the chef who prepared the special pasta. We took a sigh of relief when she came out finally to prepare it up for us. She looked more Hispanic to me than Italian but as long as she prepared good pasta, we didn't care.

She invited us over to the pasta bar, and asked us to choose out ingredients for the pasta. The bar had bow tie & spaghetti style of pastas, choice of marinara or alfredo sauces, various kinds of vegis including green peppers, beans, carrot, etc. On the side were various kinds of condiments like garlic, ginger, chili peppers and other spices. I got big spoons of garlic, ginger and peppers added in besides everything else. She put them all a small pan and simmered it up on a small stove right on the bar for a couple of minutes and served it up in a bowl. Hungry as we were, we attacked the hot and steamy pasta and thought that it totally lived up to the hype that was created over almost a year. We were out of there in literally 1/2 hr and back in the office in the next 1/2. Our colleagues hadn't made much of progress with their work, and totally regretted having missed the pasta when we described it to them.

Coincidently it also turned out to be our last week in that office as we moved to the client's new setup the next week. I walked out a happy man because I kept my promise and fulfilled Raj’s long time wish.

Jhatpat

Guy was there invariably with Box camera balancing on tripod and tin trunk sitting on wooden stool which made up the ‘Film developing lab’, used chemical bottles strewn carelessely on the road, the location was in front of temple near 'Ghosi gali' almost bordering the 'Khusiram library' and across the Road ‘Himalayan Arms’ with its picture of Mountain shikari holding the rifle tagging along the dog again bordered with clinic of Late Dr Omparkash who with his slow mannerism and slower speech made things difficult for naive “..Kya khaya tha…Tatti..kaisi hui” he was old school doctor who believed in starving the viral fever to death and for us few unfortunates it always meant weeklong weakness brought about by Moongdal(Green gram) eaten twice a day.

In this age of Digital photo development it all seems laughable and for that matter ‘Jhatpat’ photograph was laughing matter those days as well but commerce was so less that passport sized photographs done by professional photograpers took more than week to be delivered and ‘Jhatpat’ guy was a real succour to hundreds who decended everyday across hills needing the pictures for some legal matters or for licence or for college admission, it was highly affordable and it was instant.. no matter the ultimate outcome on cheap paper was more likelihood of sketches these days prepared by Police of Bomb blast suspects, he gave you so many copies for that much amount..it could have fulfilled lifetime requirement.

I think 20 years might have gone when last of these breed went extinct but that’s life for you , things change and generally they change for better.

Eins..Zwei..Drei

It was early eighties and Doordarshan had just started beaming two hr capsules on second Saturdays, I mean Mussorie antenna was ably catching signals for this transmission from Delhi....further explaining this, we were 100% sure Musorrie guys were doing their jobs properly this time rather than loitering about after opening the signal box which was a common complaint in doon valley those days wherin everyone thought blank/snowy TVs were fault of mussorie staff….it was all so innocent and mind you not only us but all mohalla firmly believed in this.

So coming back to this transmission which had just started consisted of recorded capsules handed over by “ Transtel ”..the deustcheland operator and consisted of movies, ‘Old fox’ and various other programmes but for us best was ‘Telematch’.

This gone Wednesday (08.10.2008) I just happened to surf the channels and voila!!!!the Familiar cry of “eins..zwei..drei” German for One..two ..Three reached my ear, POGO channel was actually airing the telematch ….same old episodes!! And it seemed audience were stuck in some kind of time machine ..“Bee Gee” type hair styles, long side burns and same freshness in villages, it was fight of two villages “Zimmers’ and “Oreim” or something like that.

If you remember it was easiest foreign programme to be understood by kids despite being in German and now they have made it further interesting with commentary in hindi and its very informative as well with quite an insight on German demography, tourism potential of these villages and best of all its all coloured now………….Joshita is totally hooked and more so by the knowledge that her father watched same episodes.

But my dear…..things do change we watched these programmes when were in our teens and still took immense pleasure , now small kids love it and by the time they would reach the comparative age what interests them is a question……………………….. that’s generation gap for you.

Bachelorhood: Rise of a banjara

When I was growing up in Doon, the banjaras of chakrata road fascinated me. I thought they were cool people who lived a free life. Most of all, their women were tall and well built, and when they walked in their ghagra-cholis, they looked really graceful to me. When they worked with the big hammer, beating on hot metal, they looked surreal. Their men mingled freely and chatted and laughed the whole day. The busyness of chakrata road didn’t seem to impact this carefree attitude of theirs. And this vision, subconsciously, inspired me throughout my life. When it came to choosing college, I made sure that I went to the farthest place (not that I had much of choice). For jobs, as well, I opted for the farthest and the most fascinating places.

But this last few weeks, after the family left for India, I got a chance to take this idea to another level. I literally moved out of house and took it to the road. Weekdays, I have been living with a friend whose family also went to India, and then if weekends permit, we go to my house. I keep 4 bags in my car - one for my clothes, etc, second for tennis accessories , then a bag for gym, and finally my laptop. Then I am carrying 3 types of footwear, 2 types of socks, 3 types of pants, and various types of t-shirts.

So on a typical day, I get up early in the morning, put on my tennis dress and shoes, pack my office clothes in the tennis bag, and shoot off to play tennis near my tennis friend's house. Later on, I take a shower at his house, put on the office dress and shoes and go to work from there. In the evening, I change into my gym dress and shoes in the men’s room, stuff in my office clothing in the gym bag, finish off gym, and then somehow manage to drive back to my friend’s house. Sometimes, I will go to another friends place and sleep there, wherever I find a place to rest my body, basically, and then in the morning, back on the road with my bags all packed up.

And, for a while I loved it. I was always out of my own house and therefore I was always doing something, and there was no guilt about not doing anything. But lately, I am growing out of it. I am already missing family a lot, and mentally I am already half in India. I leave on Oct 17 which is only a few days away. But this routine was worth trying.

Hairied by Stylist

It was again summer , its surprising most of our misadventures or failed initiatives always originated in summers ,maybe it was conditioning developed over years of vacations in that period which let you drop your guard and led you to some actions without being aware of lopsided reactions.

Mr Jain after a long hibernation in Gurunanak was marked for Surat and swank city needed a swank hairstyle although at this juncture Surat was dirtiest town still, desire was getting something like a love child of curly locks of Ustad Zakir hussain and closed crop mane of Kabir Bedi and was all that yet needed a stylist of pure and distinct breed and what better name than Mr Novelty wallah---- The Natraj Nai, incessant chatter box and as usual his sitting with Mr Jain resulted in single way traffic of ideas and Mr Cocksure Nai went about the job in his perfectionist style and did achieve magic with hybrid of Madhuri’s curly locks and Sadhna’s front cut put together.

Mr Jain was heartbroken,on Gobind garh street the movers found shaker Mr Jain shaking the fingers through shaken hairs walking shakily through the wide avenue.

Workplace Bachchan

He was tall, and he had broad shoulders. He puffed up his hair, and he could talk endlessly even if there was no particular topic he was discussing. He exuded confidence in his deep voice and had got style in everything he did. That's why when we first came across him, his close resemblance to our bollywood superstar immediately earned him the title of Workplace Bachchan.

He enjoyed discussions. May be because he loved his own voice. He found perfect company in Bob (changing name to hide identity). Bob enjoyed discussions as well. Together, they spent hours discussing about every topic in the world. They talked about technology, economics, politics and about current affairs. Even though some people got irritated by this non-stop chat, we kind of started enjoying them, just like Kamal Hassan gets used to the film dialogue in Pushpak. We waited for him to get in in the morning and mesmerize us with his husky voice and magnetic personality. And, they eagerly waited for each other.

Then, Bob left. It got quiet all of a sudden. Bachchan started sitting quietly in his corner and talked to his computer instead, but something was eating him inside. He didn't care about his hair any more and often showed up without shaving, wearing shorts. Clearly, he missed talking to Bob. More than he, we missed their conversations. We were no longer able to focus on our work. The silence disturbed us. At the moment, when we thought we couldn't tolerate it any longer, God showed pity on us and sent Bill (fake name). We liked him right from the beginning as well. He was a very nice person but he had difficulty setting himself up with his new project, and since he sat next to Bachchan, he started asking questions, and this was how started another round of long discussions, but this time the topics were limited to technology only. We didn't mind. We never cared about the content of his talk anyway. We just wanted to hear that dark, deep, confident voice that brought warmth to our world and made life worth living. Life was beautiful again.

Bachchan often became part of our own conversations. While discussing our future plans, We thought how we could achieve the aura that he had. Could we go for some kind of surgery to get the kind of husky voice he had? What would we do about the height though? His manner of speaking was something we would have to learn, as well. Any growth plans that we thought of, we always said that no matter what, if we wanted to climb up the corporate ladder, we had to learn how to talk like him.

Just when things were getting back to normal, the bad news came. He was rolling off the project. We just couldn't understand why. This was an exciting new project that everybody wanted to work on. Why would a smart person like him let go of such an oppportunity. It so happended, that the decision was made by someone else for him. That was an eye opener. We kept thinking that he was a smart guy who had authority on each and every topic under the sun. We just couldn't understand how he could have made any mistake at all. And how could have anyone not gotten impressed by such a heavy personality. But the sun had set. He moved on and we tried to limp on as well.

The other day, I saw him sitting on the bar in the office kitchen eating his sandwich. He looked paler, leaner, and his hair was not that puffy anymore (ok, he had a haircut), and his voice wasn't the most dominant amongst the other speakers. Was this the end of Bachchan I thought? Perhaps, this was only the beginning of a long journey. Somehow, I knew in my heart that my hero would rise again and once again prove himself.

He is after all Bachchan.