I have long wanted to write this post.
I travel a lot. And since my departure point is mostly Kolkata airport – that means being in a LOT of LONG Queues. And queues in India, made up of Indians, are so unique that they deserve to be written about – so here goes..
I usually take early morning flights out of Kolkata Airport - a time when the airport is overflowing with traffic. Since I never plan enough to take a printout of my ticket along, I start that day in the airline counter queue. I don’t get it, but the airlines don’t have the basic common sense to separate the lines for those who just want ticket printouts and those who want to book tickets. So there I am standing behind this Bihari uncle, who will ask about each and every flight option from Kolkata to Mumbai, the prices, the food they serve onboard, the waitresses dress length etc, then he will call his wife, consult with his munshi, look around, meditate, eat, drink, sleep and then decide that he will go the next day. After 15 mins I get to say – printout pls!
Next, being the only airport left in the country that doesn’t have an inline baggage check system – as soon as I enter, I get into the Baggage X-Ray queue. This queue has no dividers, so anyone can enter the queue from anywhere. This is where I typically encounter the quintessential suede mid-aged uncle who will non-chalalntly come speaking over the phone, sounding all important, and enter the line where he finds it convenient. Since we are inherently polite people, the phone trick plays a double whammy as no one wants to disturb him and hence they just ‘adjust’.
Ok – now past the X-Ray queue, I enter the Boarding pass queue. This is normally the most civilized queue and the only masala here is provided by the occasional harried passenger who is trying to convince the sweet lady behind the counter that 7:50 for a 8:30 flight = 45 minutes left. I’ve never seen them succeed, but they try nonetheless.
Next comes the DREADED security check queue. Whenever I stand in this queue, I am reminded of this great need, this urge that we Indians have – of coming FIRST!. And it is manifested in so many ways, in this one queue. The first sign is when you see this old aunty who will come and stand beside you in the queue and start walking parallel to you. She will refuse to acknowledge your presence, or the fact that she is out of queue…because she knows that just around the next corner, she will blend into the line with a quiet confidence and grace that can be earned only through rigorous lifelong practice of this subtle art. What is worse, is that sometimes people will get inspired by this aunty and form a whole new line behind her. The age old warfare lesson applied at airport queues – undermine the strength and credibility of your enemy to defeat it – basically, if I form a parallel queue that is longer than yours – then who is to say which was the original queue?…HA! But the most unbelievable form of this urge to come first, is exhibited by the pot bellied uncle who stands behind me – his pot belly constantly bumping into the small of by back. If it is a kid standing behind you, he will keep bumping his trolley into your ankle. I don’t understand what is the gameplan here – will you go through me to get ahead of me? Do you feel insecure if air passes between our bodies? I really really wish for the gift of passing silent lethal gas at these times…
Navigating through the enemies tactical moves – I get to the security check point. And this is when it strikes me…I have a LAPTOP! You might say so what…but if you have ever been in any of these lines, you will know that as soon as you take off your bag to take out your lappy, some uncle will quickly move in front of you, citing your delay in taking out the laptop as an implicit reason. Its even worse when you have to get out of the long queue that you just passed, to go and keep your bag on the conveyor belt – which is when chaos rules and your spot is most likely taken over!
Once in the security hold, you hope that the ordeal is over – after all – there is nothing to win now…everyone will get into the plane now. BUT NO! For some godforsaken reason, we Indians have to queue up for boarding too – and that too looong queues. Someone PLS tell me WHY! Why do you stand in a km long queue…waiting to get into the bus that will take you to the airport. Why cant you just sit down, wait for the queue to finish and then get up and enter! I just don’t get it!
Once in the bus, you feel…ahh…must be over now…BUT NO! The airlines will pack you into the bus like sardines…they will not signal to close the doors until there isn’t space to move. Im no sissy who cant take a crowded bus, but this means that there is another queue before walking up the ramp into the craft! Once inside there is a queue to get to your seat because everyone must first stand in the way, put in their bags, adjust their trousers, take out their cellphone which will get stuck in their pants once they sit, scratch their butts, loosen their belts – before they finally sit and let you pass.
Finally, Im in the flight…but I know this is just the lull before the storm. I can see that when the plane lands an hour later…there will be the most horrible queue of them all. The queue where everyone will rush to get their bags and stand in anticipation, bending under the over head cabins, standing at strange inclines to not rub against their fellow passenger yet not give up their place, with their luggage in one hand and mithais in another – and all this to watch a locked door which I am sure isn’t impressed and will take its own sweet time to open. You get down and a queue at the baggage collection belt awaits you…then there is a prepaid ticket queue…then there is a prepaid taxi waiting queue…then you go to the movies and even though you have online tickets…there is a queue…and all you end up wondering is…
PAR Q!
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Monday, September 20, 2010
Travelogue #1 - Shillong
Rock Capital of India, The Abode of Clouds (which by the way is what the word means), The better half of Assam….I must admit, I was pretty excited about beginning my 2 day solitary sojourn to Shillong (alliteration baby :)). I was up at 5, down (at the reception of my Guwahati Hotel) at 6, and on my way to the land of the Beautiful People (you wonder whether this is what Manson had in mind when he wrote the song)
Half an hour out of Guwahati, and I’m suddenly surrounded by hills and trees and clouds! Another 5 minutes, and we hit the most peculiar road I’ve ever seen in my life. I mean, it was a normal road, but apparently on one side of it, all the houses and shops and everything else – was Meghalaya…and on the other side was Assam! My driver Mahesh informed me of this, and went on to point out that the people on the right hand side were Khasi People (named after Khasi hills, which is one of the three main hills in Shillong, others being Gharo and Jaintia) while the other side were Assamese. It’s funny that he began his sentence with – ‘as you can see..’ – Well…Ummm….Noo...No offence but I really can’t see the difference! What I could see, was that for a 1.5km stretch – no one attempted to cross over!
Anyways, we moved along. It’s an extremely scenic 3 hour drive from Guwahati to Shillong. But every now and then, there is a string of trucks emitting toxic black smoke that swoosh past you and obstruct the fresh air intake that one so rarely finds in the cities these days ( btw, just checking, is it just me, or have some of you also felt that in the mountains the air is sometimes so fresh and cool that it actually hurts to breathe!). On enquiring I discovered that coal mining is a major industry in these hills, and the trucks always overload coal far beyond capacity. The engine of the trucks can’t take that weight and it coughs up all that smoke in an attempt to do so. While telling me this, Mahesh nonchalantly adds – ‘Sahab ye truck walle chalate bhi toh bahut tez hain – aap dekhiyega kitne accident dikhenge aapko raaste main’. And voila, we suddenly cross a truck that bumped in the mountain…its as if the driver didn’t see the turn at all! All along our way, I counted 5 accidents. But it wasn’t the accidents or the number that was scary…it was the fact that Mahesh so confidently, yet indifferently, predicted this would happen! It was also peculiar that most of these accidents happened on the ride back from Shillong. It guess I found it peculiar because till that time I didn’t know that liquor in Meghalaya is tax free!
Soon we had breakfast at Nongpoh…which has 3 dhabas and around 10 homes…and which is where everyone headed to Shillong has breakfast (it is also the place where you should not order aloo parantha…take my word). Post the breakfast, Mahesh handed me a paan, and I Shashank Mehta, who never had a Supari Paan in his life, took it like an obedient kid and stuffed it in his mouth! Two things happened – 1. I suddenly noticed that everyone around me – guys, girls, kids, elders – everyone was chewing a paan. I kept noticing this throughout the day. 2. I had this uncontrollable urge to spit…and then I did it…face out of the car window, wind in my face, hair swept back, lips curled like a tunnel – I SPAT! My first spit marks, on the road to Shillong, on my car window, on my shirt…ahh what bliss.
An hour hence, we hit Shillong and as decided, I headed off to finish the sight-seeing straight away…you know…the waterfalls, the parks, the lakes etc. I had made up my mind that I would finish all the ‘touristy’ stuff before I hit my Hotel. And so I did. I won’t bore you with the details
The Hotel – Hotel JK International, is situated in the busiest part of town – Police Bazaar = Bada Bazaar. I was already alarmed when I entered the corridor of the Hotel, because all along my right were doors after adjacent doors announcing sequentially increasing room numbers. It logically meant that the room would only be slightly broader than the door itself…but it doesn’t hit you until the door opens. Lo and Behold – a 10ft by 4 ft extended corridor, perpendicular to the original one, separated from it by means of a door and stuffed with a bed and a TV! I’ve always liked small cozy rooms, but JK International helped me define a very important line - the one between ‘cozy’ and ‘so freaking claustrophobic and small that when you yawn neighbors on both sides shout out coz they can hear the noise of your bones hitting the walls’. Later in the night I would find out that even the ceiling was as ‘hear-through’ as the walls – and that I would be blessed with an ‘upper neighbor’ who had this constant urge to drop some loud metal ornament on the floor every 15mins.
After a quick nap I’m out on the street - its 3 o clock and the streets are bustling with people…extremely well groomed people I may add. As far as dressing up is concerned, Shillong is every bit what you’ve heard it to be. Goth teenagers with tattooed forearms, weird yet ‘cool’ hairstyles, rock band t-shirts, metal accecories, worn out and torn jeans worn low, all the shades of black with a little pink thrown in – they got the works! Since I’m a delhiite, also worth mentioning is the fact that there are a LOT of girls. While they can’t be more than enough, there are by far more girls (atleast out on the roads) than there are guys. Ohh and check this out,Shillong is perhaps the only Matrilineal society in India – that basically means that WOMEN RULE HERE! After marriage, the guy shifts base and stays with his in-laws. In a will, all inheritance goes to the YOUNGEST DAUGHTER, not the oldest son. And while not literally, but for all practical purposes, the woman wears the pants in the house and can kick out her guy whenever she wishes for whatever reason!
Imagine, a headbanging matrilineal society – how cool is that. Your wife could throw you out if she catches you listening to Britney Spears! If you just want to check Britney out, take my advice and put the TV on mute…your wife may even join you and then go out and get herself the exact same dress! No seriously, what is it with North-Eastern/ Hill women and dressing up! Well actually, I think I understand the reason for this (as I’ll explain in the Darjeeling Travelogue coming up soon), but it amazes me no end anyways. They are just always decked up and HOW!
I’ve been on the road for 3 hours now, I’ve searched every nook and cranny, but I still can’t find a gig in this Rock Haven! My amazing luck…everywhere I go I’m old that there’ll be a gig next Saturday (but today we smelt you when you were half way here and cancelled arrangements…huh) But seriously, this was quite a turn-off..not to mention the fact that the city shuts down by 7.30. The streets are deserted by 9pm max. So I head to the poshest pub in town, at 6.30 in the evening, and commit another first – I have a drink all by myself!
It is almost 1am as I’m writing this…thinking back to Darjeeling and now Shillong…I’ve realized that while I will love to explore this unexplored part of our country, a critical factor will be missing – FOOD. A major part of exploring the culture of any place, for me, involves exploring their food. But I guess the North-East is the only part of our country where food comes after clothes, cosmetics and other comforts. This de-prioritization of food is reflected in lot of ways – in the lack of spices and garnishing, in the short hotel menus, in the ‘we’ll just be content eating anything made of Bamboo’ attitude, and most of all in the fact the garment stores are always larger than the restaurants.
Half an hour out of Guwahati, and I’m suddenly surrounded by hills and trees and clouds! Another 5 minutes, and we hit the most peculiar road I’ve ever seen in my life. I mean, it was a normal road, but apparently on one side of it, all the houses and shops and everything else – was Meghalaya…and on the other side was Assam! My driver Mahesh informed me of this, and went on to point out that the people on the right hand side were Khasi People (named after Khasi hills, which is one of the three main hills in Shillong, others being Gharo and Jaintia) while the other side were Assamese. It’s funny that he began his sentence with – ‘as you can see..’ – Well…Ummm….Noo...No offence but I really can’t see the difference! What I could see, was that for a 1.5km stretch – no one attempted to cross over!
Anyways, we moved along. It’s an extremely scenic 3 hour drive from Guwahati to Shillong. But every now and then, there is a string of trucks emitting toxic black smoke that swoosh past you and obstruct the fresh air intake that one so rarely finds in the cities these days ( btw, just checking, is it just me, or have some of you also felt that in the mountains the air is sometimes so fresh and cool that it actually hurts to breathe!). On enquiring I discovered that coal mining is a major industry in these hills, and the trucks always overload coal far beyond capacity. The engine of the trucks can’t take that weight and it coughs up all that smoke in an attempt to do so. While telling me this, Mahesh nonchalantly adds – ‘Sahab ye truck walle chalate bhi toh bahut tez hain – aap dekhiyega kitne accident dikhenge aapko raaste main’. And voila, we suddenly cross a truck that bumped in the mountain…its as if the driver didn’t see the turn at all! All along our way, I counted 5 accidents. But it wasn’t the accidents or the number that was scary…it was the fact that Mahesh so confidently, yet indifferently, predicted this would happen! It was also peculiar that most of these accidents happened on the ride back from Shillong. It guess I found it peculiar because till that time I didn’t know that liquor in Meghalaya is tax free!
Soon we had breakfast at Nongpoh…which has 3 dhabas and around 10 homes…and which is where everyone headed to Shillong has breakfast (it is also the place where you should not order aloo parantha…take my word). Post the breakfast, Mahesh handed me a paan, and I Shashank Mehta, who never had a Supari Paan in his life, took it like an obedient kid and stuffed it in his mouth! Two things happened – 1. I suddenly noticed that everyone around me – guys, girls, kids, elders – everyone was chewing a paan. I kept noticing this throughout the day. 2. I had this uncontrollable urge to spit…and then I did it…face out of the car window, wind in my face, hair swept back, lips curled like a tunnel – I SPAT! My first spit marks, on the road to Shillong, on my car window, on my shirt…ahh what bliss.
An hour hence, we hit Shillong and as decided, I headed off to finish the sight-seeing straight away…you know…the waterfalls, the parks, the lakes etc. I had made up my mind that I would finish all the ‘touristy’ stuff before I hit my Hotel. And so I did. I won’t bore you with the details
The Hotel – Hotel JK International, is situated in the busiest part of town – Police Bazaar = Bada Bazaar. I was already alarmed when I entered the corridor of the Hotel, because all along my right were doors after adjacent doors announcing sequentially increasing room numbers. It logically meant that the room would only be slightly broader than the door itself…but it doesn’t hit you until the door opens. Lo and Behold – a 10ft by 4 ft extended corridor, perpendicular to the original one, separated from it by means of a door and stuffed with a bed and a TV! I’ve always liked small cozy rooms, but JK International helped me define a very important line - the one between ‘cozy’ and ‘so freaking claustrophobic and small that when you yawn neighbors on both sides shout out coz they can hear the noise of your bones hitting the walls’. Later in the night I would find out that even the ceiling was as ‘hear-through’ as the walls – and that I would be blessed with an ‘upper neighbor’ who had this constant urge to drop some loud metal ornament on the floor every 15mins.
After a quick nap I’m out on the street - its 3 o clock and the streets are bustling with people…extremely well groomed people I may add. As far as dressing up is concerned, Shillong is every bit what you’ve heard it to be. Goth teenagers with tattooed forearms, weird yet ‘cool’ hairstyles, rock band t-shirts, metal accecories, worn out and torn jeans worn low, all the shades of black with a little pink thrown in – they got the works! Since I’m a delhiite, also worth mentioning is the fact that there are a LOT of girls. While they can’t be more than enough, there are by far more girls (atleast out on the roads) than there are guys. Ohh and check this out,Shillong is perhaps the only Matrilineal society in India – that basically means that WOMEN RULE HERE! After marriage, the guy shifts base and stays with his in-laws. In a will, all inheritance goes to the YOUNGEST DAUGHTER, not the oldest son. And while not literally, but for all practical purposes, the woman wears the pants in the house and can kick out her guy whenever she wishes for whatever reason!
Imagine, a headbanging matrilineal society – how cool is that. Your wife could throw you out if she catches you listening to Britney Spears! If you just want to check Britney out, take my advice and put the TV on mute…your wife may even join you and then go out and get herself the exact same dress! No seriously, what is it with North-Eastern/ Hill women and dressing up! Well actually, I think I understand the reason for this (as I’ll explain in the Darjeeling Travelogue coming up soon), but it amazes me no end anyways. They are just always decked up and HOW!
I’ve been on the road for 3 hours now, I’ve searched every nook and cranny, but I still can’t find a gig in this Rock Haven! My amazing luck…everywhere I go I’m old that there’ll be a gig next Saturday (but today we smelt you when you were half way here and cancelled arrangements…huh) But seriously, this was quite a turn-off..not to mention the fact that the city shuts down by 7.30. The streets are deserted by 9pm max. So I head to the poshest pub in town, at 6.30 in the evening, and commit another first – I have a drink all by myself!
It is almost 1am as I’m writing this…thinking back to Darjeeling and now Shillong…I’ve realized that while I will love to explore this unexplored part of our country, a critical factor will be missing – FOOD. A major part of exploring the culture of any place, for me, involves exploring their food. But I guess the North-East is the only part of our country where food comes after clothes, cosmetics and other comforts. This de-prioritization of food is reflected in lot of ways – in the lack of spices and garnishing, in the short hotel menus, in the ‘we’ll just be content eating anything made of Bamboo’ attitude, and most of all in the fact the garment stores are always larger than the restaurants.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
AITRAAZ: A Poem
‘I’m not that sorta girl…how dare you!’, she said
‘But I don’t wanna marry you…just wanna take you to bed!’
‘Ohh don’t you fool me Mr, coz I saw it in your eye…
…In the tremble of your hands when you didn’t unzip your fly’
‘But this is all wrong…I am the guy…marriage is not even on my mind!’
‘Ohh well then why don’t you ever…you know…move in from behind’
‘I’m just trying to be decent …since when is that wrong!’
‘Well lets just say from the time you got me this tiny thong’
‘Ohh come on you can’t be serious…can’t blame me for going slow!’
‘God Im jumping for joy here and you take time to grow!’
‘But how does all this mean that I’m eager to get married?’
‘Coz whenever I say the ‘S’ word, you look all pale and harried’
‘Alright…lets get this straight…I want exactly what you do’
‘Yea right...that’s why when I say prick, you think I’m talking voodoo’
‘Haha…you know what baby…that one was actually funny’
‘Yes…funny is what I wanted to be…when I dressed up like a bunny…’
‘Ok I’ve had enough…do you have anything more to say?’
‘See…you’ve had enough already…without even having me today!’
‘YES…you win…I agree…All I want is a good wife’
‘Ok darling…we’ll have salami for dinner today…
…you go get your dead meat and I’ll go get the knife’
‘I really thought you’d be different…that you would be like no other’
‘But don’t you see…..I am different…
I want to get pregnant…just don’t want to be a mother…’
Epilogue: (Melancholy)
….you really thought I was that kind of girl
…who would marry you without sleeping with you
….who wouldn’t screw you out of your brains
...before laughing with you and weeping with you
‘But I don’t wanna marry you…just wanna take you to bed!’
‘Ohh don’t you fool me Mr, coz I saw it in your eye…
…In the tremble of your hands when you didn’t unzip your fly’
‘But this is all wrong…I am the guy…marriage is not even on my mind!’
‘Ohh well then why don’t you ever…you know…move in from behind’
‘I’m just trying to be decent …since when is that wrong!’
‘Well lets just say from the time you got me this tiny thong’
‘Ohh come on you can’t be serious…can’t blame me for going slow!’
‘God Im jumping for joy here and you take time to grow!’
‘But how does all this mean that I’m eager to get married?’
‘Coz whenever I say the ‘S’ word, you look all pale and harried’
‘Alright…lets get this straight…I want exactly what you do’
‘Yea right...that’s why when I say prick, you think I’m talking voodoo’
‘Haha…you know what baby…that one was actually funny’
‘Yes…funny is what I wanted to be…when I dressed up like a bunny…’
‘Ok I’ve had enough…do you have anything more to say?’
‘See…you’ve had enough already…without even having me today!’
‘YES…you win…I agree…All I want is a good wife’
‘Ok darling…we’ll have salami for dinner today…
…you go get your dead meat and I’ll go get the knife’
‘I really thought you’d be different…that you would be like no other’
‘But don’t you see…..I am different…
I want to get pregnant…just don’t want to be a mother…’
Epilogue: (Melancholy)
….you really thought I was that kind of girl
…who would marry you without sleeping with you
….who wouldn’t screw you out of your brains
...before laughing with you and weeping with you
Click Happy - Upload #2
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A beautiful statue in the park near my house....so artistically...yet so simply captures how the fate of nature and mankind is intertwined
That's our dear friend Vaibhav's lap...and the slew of dead bodies he leaves in his wake every time he eats/ drinks :)
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ALLY CHOCLATE!! More like fake foe choclate.
This is a poster from one of my Big Bazaars...a few comments/ queries from a amateur thief:
1) I would like to thank you for clarifying the it'll be the nearest possible police station - i really hate travel
2) Is the capital C in caught, there just to add dramatic effect, or does it mean that only thefts over a certain value shall be punished?
3) Given the fact that you've put up this poster near the loo, and around this area there really aint much to steal, can I get away by claiming in court that just like your other signages, even this one fails to reach its intended recepient!!
Click Happy - Upload #1
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Saturday, August 21, 2010
Survived, Revived
I remember the last time (which was also the first time) that I came to Patna. Actually, that time I was technically just supposed to cross Patna on my way to Siliguri from Lucknow, but a strange course of events transformed it into an hour long unscheduled stop at Patna. I won’t get into the details of that time (as I’ve been running out of stories lately and that story, with a little bit of exaggeration, will be enough to fill up 3/4th of a blog post…the remaining 1/4th can be borrowed from any Hindi Movie), but suffice to say that it had something to do with an Asamese guy, flirting with some UP girls, which appntly really bugged some Biahri guys, who took 5 mins to decide whether to a) live with it, b) bitch about it, c) hit the guy in a moving train d) pull the chain, stop the train, tear open his brain an leave him in pain. Finally, they decided to do the easiest thing, so they called up some guys as the train was crossing their village and voila, a barricade came up and the train was stopped. Then the Asamese guy was hit by a lot of Bihari dudes, while a Rajasthani Jawan made an unsuccessful attempt to intervene and got a bleeding nose in the process – and all this while, a lot of erudite Bengali people did what they do best – sat at the side, yawned and talked about how the political and religious degradation of society and youth in particular had resulted in such numbness towards a fellow citizens pain that today no one was willing to get up and help the poor chinki.
Anyways, as I said…I will not get into the details of that day….
This is the story of the first time I actually, intentionally visited Patna. Extremely happy that I didn’t have to travel by train, as my company was willing to foot my airplane bill, I boarded the Kingfisher ATR (yes, the one with those huge Usha fans at the sides) with a spark in my stride. Now, no matter how many times I’ve flown in an aircraft, I am always astonished by take-offs – I just cant fathom how even this time all of us pot bellied Indians will actually be air-lifted…I really always feel that this time for sure it isn’t happening, that probability must be catching up. Needless to mention, in an ATR, with those stupid fans by the side, this fear further intensifies. Seriously, every ATR flight seems like Another Tiny Risk that I’m taking with life. But anyways, today is a good day and I’m alive and kicking, so things can’t be that bad.
---------------
Perfecto…I land safely in Patna ( I later realized that even Collins Book of Grammar recognizes that using ‘safely’ and ‘Patna’ in the same sentence is grammatically incorrect). I am traveling to the market with my distributor, who tells me that this amazing road that we are on has come up only recently, under the Nitish Kumar govt. He also tells me that the crime rate in Patna has gone down drastically, and in the same breath he narrates an incident of how a salesman in one of our business recently was shot and his day’s collections were stolen. I don’t know how to react, but I’m told it’s Patna, these things happen. The city is really not worthy of being called one – it doesn’t have a single multiplex, a single CCD or Barista, no chain restaurant – not even a McDonalds!! All it has is one, yes ONE Yo China! – and that is the most happening place in town.
The day ends, and I’m still alive, no untoward incident, not even a gunshot heard in the distance – Patna really must be changing I think, as I pack my bag to catch my flight back to Kolkata….
….My Kingfisher is a little delayed. No problems, there are always a few mails to send…
…..I’m in the flight, when a slightly balding gentleman with a moustache comes and sits beside me. He introduces himself as (ok – this is so bad, I’ve forgotten his name, but it began with S…so Mr. S) Mr. S, and guess what, he is too from HUL. FAB, this just keeps getting better – the man handles our 3P factories in the East. We’ve never met, and I know zilch about his job…awesome, so much to talk about and learn on the flight. Not to mention, the man is so lively and so funny….this will be fun…
…..The flight has been in the air for 30 mins now (that is one half of our total journey), we are done with food, and I already love Mr. S. We’ve been having such an interesting chat about factories and sales and…woooo…what the fuck was tha…whoohooo…holy mother of gawd…this is bad turbule…wooohhhoooo…fuck fuck fu….
‘Dear passengers…this is your captain speaking…as we are experiencing turbulent weather, I request you to kindly move back to your seats and buckle up’
OK. This is not good. I’ve been in turbulent weather, but this is way beyond just ‘turbulence’. By the way, up until now, very unlike my normal self, I had not checked out the people sitting around me in the flight and formed a mental guess of where they came from and what they did. But this sudden rocking of my boat left me with a compelling urge to do that. So I started looking around and here is what I saw:
1) On the 2 seats in front of us were an old couple – couldn’t really see them so no comments. Just that they seemed to be the educated, calm n composed types.
2) On our right hand side, across the aisle, was seated a Bihari uncle with a huge moustache and a black leather bag in his hand. Definitely a Bihar Govt official who had the ‘I am the guy who sits on files in govt offices and lets the grass grow under my arse’ look.
3) Behind me (yes, I am one of those annoying passengers who turns behind and checks you out through the gap between the seats), was a Chineese/Japanese dude (hereby referred to as CJD) who, like all Chinese/Japanese dudes (next time for sure), seemed perturbed and in a real hurry to go somewhere. I’m sure that had it not been for the seat belt he wouldn’t have been sitting.
Also, important to mention that we two were on the 2nd seat from the front, and hence the tall air-hostess was in eye range and ear shot. She was sitting on a seat facing us, with her back to the cockpit door. ( I’m not a pervert, this is not irrelevant information, I’m telling you this for a reason) (Btw, I can’t even imagine how embarrassing and uncomfortable it must be for an ATR airhostess, to sit in clear viewing distance of a pitch black, pot bellied, gold titan watch wearing Bihari uncle with a big moustache and Ray Ban glasses on to prevent her from seeing where he is looking. The poor lady has to look interestedly at the baggage cabin above, as if it was the most exquisite mural, while all she wishes is that the cabin somehow opens up and a heavy suitcase, or a boulder, drops on uncle’s head.)
Anyways, coming back…we are caught in a freaking thunderstorm! Our plane is wobbling like mad…and the CJD behind me goes ‘Ohh ma gawwd..ohh maa gaawwwd’ every time we tumble. (‘I really don’t want to be annoyed when I die’, I remember thinking.) But what was interesting for me, was to note the shift in behaviors as the turbulence continued and worsened.
Episode 1 – Duration: 1st 30secs of turbulence: Do as you are trained – these are the initial few jitters, time for the tray tables to get closed, laptops to go in, poopers to return to base, air hostesses to maneuver protruding elbows and return to their seats, pilots to shut off auto-pilot and earn their pay, kids to stop crying coz they are shocked…you know…the usual drill
Episode 2 – Duration: The next 2 minutes: Act all calm and composed: When the turbulence continues for over a minute, the ‘You don’t scare me’ looks come out. Just take a look around and you can see those stone cold faces, pretending not to be hassled by this ‘turbulence thing’. ‘Ohh we fly everyday, this is normal, don’t worry about it, trust ME, I know’
Episode 3 – Duration: Well, let’s just say that by this time you are not seeing your watch to see how much time has passed, but how much time you got left!
Episode 3, is when the proverbial Shit hits the real roof.
The kids who had stopped crying in Episode 1 due to shock, realize that ‘Dude, this is serious shit…mommy isn’t voluntarily rocking us to sleep’, and start wailing with such renewed enthusiasm that for a moment the thought of a crash brings a smile to your face.
In the aisle, all the elbows come out again, but for once, there is no Air Hostess in sight. This time everyone is grabbing on to the side bars of their seats for dear life. The Air-Hostesses, btw, are by now seated at their extremely embarrassing crowd facing seats. Cross-legged (horny uncle’s hormones will fight to the grave I guess), trying to maintain composure, they are the last proponents of the ‘this is normal turbulence’ theory. Because the ones who were saying so in Episode 2, are by now chanting silent prayers under their clenched teeth. These are the ones I feel most pity for, because in the event of a crash, they would die pretending.
But why Episode 3 is the most revealing episode, is because in most cases, real human nature comes out in full glory in this time of helplessness. All your defences, all your facades, they melt away and you, in your pure, pristine form, shine through. So while, Mr. S (who had gone silent a few minutes back) started laughing now, let go of the side bars, and said – ‘That’s why I love Levers…it has taught me, that when you can’t stop it…enjoy it!’….Mr. CJD sitting behind me, after 10 minutes of ‘ohh maa gawd ohh maaa gawwddd’, asks his first question to the petrified but calm airhostess –
‘When will we land…we are already 45 minutes late?’
You can not imagine the effect this one question had on the people who could hear it. The airhostess gave him a look that said – ‘if we do land…SUE US’. The Bihari uncle looking at her legs was relived that her attention was diverted. Mr. S couldn’t stop laughing…and I…I really wanted to turn around and tell Mr. Chow from the land of JIT – It’s ok, we might land late…but we will die right on time!
Anyways, we did land safely…all credit to the pilot for that. But it was only once we landed that we realized the true severity of what we had been through. I asked the Air-Hostess whether this truly was normal turbulence on this route and she said – ‘hell no, I’ve never been in anything like it’. Once we got out of the plane, a whole crew of Kingfisher executives was there to receive us, and we were told that as soon as we took off from Patna, a thunderstorm warning was issued in Kolkata and all flights were grounded. Ours was the only flight coming in and they were really worried. We had taken more than 2 hours for a 1 hour flight, because every time we tried to descend we would get caught in a draft and lose balance. But I guess the experience was best summarized by the dear Bihari Uncle, who took off his Ray Bans as soon as we landed, wiped the sweat of his forehead, and with a smile on his face said – ‘ IT BHAS A BHERY HORRIPHYING EXPERIENCE’
:)
PS: Actually there was an Episode 4 also – this was the time when I think everyone was saying – ‘Just get me thought this one, and then I will….’
It was during this time when I thought that I’ll do everything I’ve been postponing, and renewing the blog was on top of that list. But as soon as you are through the trauma, you instantly forget about your resolve, and it again becomes another thing that you ‘must do’. Needless to mention, 2 months have passed between then and now.
PS2: I’ve been ill for the past few days, for a moment dengue/ malaria was suspected, and this is when the resolve came back with vigor. This time, I’m glad I acted :)
Anyways, as I said…I will not get into the details of that day….
This is the story of the first time I actually, intentionally visited Patna. Extremely happy that I didn’t have to travel by train, as my company was willing to foot my airplane bill, I boarded the Kingfisher ATR (yes, the one with those huge Usha fans at the sides) with a spark in my stride. Now, no matter how many times I’ve flown in an aircraft, I am always astonished by take-offs – I just cant fathom how even this time all of us pot bellied Indians will actually be air-lifted…I really always feel that this time for sure it isn’t happening, that probability must be catching up. Needless to mention, in an ATR, with those stupid fans by the side, this fear further intensifies. Seriously, every ATR flight seems like Another Tiny Risk that I’m taking with life. But anyways, today is a good day and I’m alive and kicking, so things can’t be that bad.
---------------
Perfecto…I land safely in Patna ( I later realized that even Collins Book of Grammar recognizes that using ‘safely’ and ‘Patna’ in the same sentence is grammatically incorrect). I am traveling to the market with my distributor, who tells me that this amazing road that we are on has come up only recently, under the Nitish Kumar govt. He also tells me that the crime rate in Patna has gone down drastically, and in the same breath he narrates an incident of how a salesman in one of our business recently was shot and his day’s collections were stolen. I don’t know how to react, but I’m told it’s Patna, these things happen. The city is really not worthy of being called one – it doesn’t have a single multiplex, a single CCD or Barista, no chain restaurant – not even a McDonalds!! All it has is one, yes ONE Yo China! – and that is the most happening place in town.
The day ends, and I’m still alive, no untoward incident, not even a gunshot heard in the distance – Patna really must be changing I think, as I pack my bag to catch my flight back to Kolkata….
….My Kingfisher is a little delayed. No problems, there are always a few mails to send…
…..I’m in the flight, when a slightly balding gentleman with a moustache comes and sits beside me. He introduces himself as (ok – this is so bad, I’ve forgotten his name, but it began with S…so Mr. S) Mr. S, and guess what, he is too from HUL. FAB, this just keeps getting better – the man handles our 3P factories in the East. We’ve never met, and I know zilch about his job…awesome, so much to talk about and learn on the flight. Not to mention, the man is so lively and so funny….this will be fun…
…..The flight has been in the air for 30 mins now (that is one half of our total journey), we are done with food, and I already love Mr. S. We’ve been having such an interesting chat about factories and sales and…woooo…what the fuck was tha…whoohooo…holy mother of gawd…this is bad turbule…wooohhhoooo…fuck fuck fu….
‘Dear passengers…this is your captain speaking…as we are experiencing turbulent weather, I request you to kindly move back to your seats and buckle up’
OK. This is not good. I’ve been in turbulent weather, but this is way beyond just ‘turbulence’. By the way, up until now, very unlike my normal self, I had not checked out the people sitting around me in the flight and formed a mental guess of where they came from and what they did. But this sudden rocking of my boat left me with a compelling urge to do that. So I started looking around and here is what I saw:
1) On the 2 seats in front of us were an old couple – couldn’t really see them so no comments. Just that they seemed to be the educated, calm n composed types.
2) On our right hand side, across the aisle, was seated a Bihari uncle with a huge moustache and a black leather bag in his hand. Definitely a Bihar Govt official who had the ‘I am the guy who sits on files in govt offices and lets the grass grow under my arse’ look.
3) Behind me (yes, I am one of those annoying passengers who turns behind and checks you out through the gap between the seats), was a Chineese/Japanese dude (hereby referred to as CJD) who, like all Chinese/Japanese dudes (next time for sure), seemed perturbed and in a real hurry to go somewhere. I’m sure that had it not been for the seat belt he wouldn’t have been sitting.
Also, important to mention that we two were on the 2nd seat from the front, and hence the tall air-hostess was in eye range and ear shot. She was sitting on a seat facing us, with her back to the cockpit door. ( I’m not a pervert, this is not irrelevant information, I’m telling you this for a reason) (Btw, I can’t even imagine how embarrassing and uncomfortable it must be for an ATR airhostess, to sit in clear viewing distance of a pitch black, pot bellied, gold titan watch wearing Bihari uncle with a big moustache and Ray Ban glasses on to prevent her from seeing where he is looking. The poor lady has to look interestedly at the baggage cabin above, as if it was the most exquisite mural, while all she wishes is that the cabin somehow opens up and a heavy suitcase, or a boulder, drops on uncle’s head.)
Anyways, coming back…we are caught in a freaking thunderstorm! Our plane is wobbling like mad…and the CJD behind me goes ‘Ohh ma gawwd..ohh maa gaawwwd’ every time we tumble. (‘I really don’t want to be annoyed when I die’, I remember thinking.) But what was interesting for me, was to note the shift in behaviors as the turbulence continued and worsened.
Episode 1 – Duration: 1st 30secs of turbulence: Do as you are trained – these are the initial few jitters, time for the tray tables to get closed, laptops to go in, poopers to return to base, air hostesses to maneuver protruding elbows and return to their seats, pilots to shut off auto-pilot and earn their pay, kids to stop crying coz they are shocked…you know…the usual drill
Episode 2 – Duration: The next 2 minutes: Act all calm and composed: When the turbulence continues for over a minute, the ‘You don’t scare me’ looks come out. Just take a look around and you can see those stone cold faces, pretending not to be hassled by this ‘turbulence thing’. ‘Ohh we fly everyday, this is normal, don’t worry about it, trust ME, I know’
Episode 3 – Duration: Well, let’s just say that by this time you are not seeing your watch to see how much time has passed, but how much time you got left!
Episode 3, is when the proverbial Shit hits the real roof.
The kids who had stopped crying in Episode 1 due to shock, realize that ‘Dude, this is serious shit…mommy isn’t voluntarily rocking us to sleep’, and start wailing with such renewed enthusiasm that for a moment the thought of a crash brings a smile to your face.
In the aisle, all the elbows come out again, but for once, there is no Air Hostess in sight. This time everyone is grabbing on to the side bars of their seats for dear life. The Air-Hostesses, btw, are by now seated at their extremely embarrassing crowd facing seats. Cross-legged (horny uncle’s hormones will fight to the grave I guess), trying to maintain composure, they are the last proponents of the ‘this is normal turbulence’ theory. Because the ones who were saying so in Episode 2, are by now chanting silent prayers under their clenched teeth. These are the ones I feel most pity for, because in the event of a crash, they would die pretending.
But why Episode 3 is the most revealing episode, is because in most cases, real human nature comes out in full glory in this time of helplessness. All your defences, all your facades, they melt away and you, in your pure, pristine form, shine through. So while, Mr. S (who had gone silent a few minutes back) started laughing now, let go of the side bars, and said – ‘That’s why I love Levers…it has taught me, that when you can’t stop it…enjoy it!’….Mr. CJD sitting behind me, after 10 minutes of ‘ohh maa gawd ohh maaa gawwddd’, asks his first question to the petrified but calm airhostess –
‘When will we land…we are already 45 minutes late?’
You can not imagine the effect this one question had on the people who could hear it. The airhostess gave him a look that said – ‘if we do land…SUE US’. The Bihari uncle looking at her legs was relived that her attention was diverted. Mr. S couldn’t stop laughing…and I…I really wanted to turn around and tell Mr. Chow from the land of JIT – It’s ok, we might land late…but we will die right on time!
Anyways, we did land safely…all credit to the pilot for that. But it was only once we landed that we realized the true severity of what we had been through. I asked the Air-Hostess whether this truly was normal turbulence on this route and she said – ‘hell no, I’ve never been in anything like it’. Once we got out of the plane, a whole crew of Kingfisher executives was there to receive us, and we were told that as soon as we took off from Patna, a thunderstorm warning was issued in Kolkata and all flights were grounded. Ours was the only flight coming in and they were really worried. We had taken more than 2 hours for a 1 hour flight, because every time we tried to descend we would get caught in a draft and lose balance. But I guess the experience was best summarized by the dear Bihari Uncle, who took off his Ray Bans as soon as we landed, wiped the sweat of his forehead, and with a smile on his face said – ‘ IT BHAS A BHERY HORRIPHYING EXPERIENCE’
:)
PS: Actually there was an Episode 4 also – this was the time when I think everyone was saying – ‘Just get me thought this one, and then I will….’
It was during this time when I thought that I’ll do everything I’ve been postponing, and renewing the blog was on top of that list. But as soon as you are through the trauma, you instantly forget about your resolve, and it again becomes another thing that you ‘must do’. Needless to mention, 2 months have passed between then and now.
PS2: I’ve been ill for the past few days, for a moment dengue/ malaria was suspected, and this is when the resolve came back with vigor. This time, I’m glad I acted :)
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Mrs.X and the Pink Floyd Hotel - Part I
Today
I have woken up all dazed today. She is gone. Three precious little days, and she is gone. I look around, a slight buzz buzzing in my head. It doesn’t seem right – the room without her. Something’s amiss. It was this way three days ago, it’s the same three days later, but something’s changed.
It’s the smell.’ Her smell is still lingering in the room’ - I tell myself. My Self replies back – ‘or maybe she is still there…inside you…maybe she never left”. I realise I am not making any sense. I shut my Self up. Still dizzy, I try and think back to the past 3 days…think back to try and figure out what is it that might have changed between then and now. But my memories are glazed. They are not the discrete snapshots they used to be. Instead, they are like water flowing down over vertical glass. They are in constant flux. They are like quicksand…the harder I try…the deeper I sink into this hazy, surreal feeling. It’s like I am looking at my own mind through a window…and the closer I look…the more my own breath fogs the glass.
3 days ago - 8.00am
I have woken up smiling. Waking up to her is like waking up to…actually anything else isn’t waking up at all. But she isn’t there by my side. I look around worried…like a kid who slept with his trophy last night and couldn’t find it when he woke up. But it doesn’t take long for me to spot her…how could it. Drying her hair by the dressing table, she is the perfect vision of the perfect vision. And then there is her smell...that mesmerising fragrance…that debilitating perfume. She reminds me of Eskimos…how they use refrigerators to keep their food warm. I see her spray herself with some perfume…and I know that she uses it in the same way… to cover up that sweet intoxication that emanates from every cell in her body. Our eyes meet…she smiles…and I nod in agreement…such potency must be kept in check…at bay.
11:00 am
I’m riding a bike and she is sitting behind me…clutching me tightly…as if holding on for dear life. I open the throttle a little more and the bike surges ahead. She clutches harder. I feel invincible…What can hurt me…when life is clinging on to me for dear life.
My thoughts are glazed. She is saying something to me…trying to shout over the winds gushing past. But I just have music in my ears. Music in my ears and warmth over my back. She is trying really hard to ask me something…”How long does it take to Pushkar?” she asks.
I remember wondering about how cruel it is to remind someone in heaven that a concept of finite time exists.
I answer … “about 45 minutes”.
“We must grab something to snack upon on the way…some biscuits perhaps.” she says in reply.
We are almost at the edge of Ajmer. By now I pretty much know every shop worth knowing in this town. I smile and nod a confident nod. A minute later I am parking. We enter this store and it suddenly hits me…I have lost the ability to shop like I used to…like everyone else does. Everything around me is reduced to being a formulation, a concoction of chemicals packed in one of the many choices of packaging material, planted at eye level by a salesman on the payrolls of the distributor who has paid for this and now expects me to buy it and pay him back. I can no longer just pick something because I like the look of it…because I know someone made it this way precisely because they knew I would like the look of it. I see the scheme. I know the schemer. I know that I am getting this razor for a third of its price now, because the schemer wishes to milk me when I buy blades. I know this Rs 6. Product is being offered to me at 5 because a 6 rupee coin doesn’t exist. I know that this shampoo that promises to make me a superstar is nothing but a glorified detergent and a lot of water. I know…and I can’t not know now.
But this isn’t about me. I chose for things to be this way. It’s about her…and she is done doing what I can’t.
11:30am
The road winds…tracing the valley…cutting across two mountains. I remember feeling poor…at a loss of words to describe the view. She is quiet too. There is music in my ears.
My thoughts are glazed…but I vividly recall what I saw next. On our way we have gone past hundreds of billboards, but this one is different. With the dark green color…that background made to look like bricks…a psychedelic white font specifying the name…The Pink Floyd Hotel has a sign board that one can’t afford to miss. Bang in the middle of nowhere, flanked by billboards inviting you to have continental food at Vaishno Inn and delicious sea food at Jagdamba resorts…the billboard might as well have read ‘Randomness Begins’.
She is also looking at it now…she is also as amazed…she is also in agreement…this is one place we must visit. I open the throttle again. She clutches harder, again. I feel alive.
To be continued......
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