We three went to Foxwoods this weekend. It's primarily an indian (red) Casino and an all-in-one thing with food, drinks, entertainment. There was live jazz and there was also a dance club called B.B. King. Quite a pleasing coincidence for all these 2 weeks I've been listening to BB when in my car. It was closed though... not that I'd have rocked the dance floor if it were open. The people dancing with the live jazz were all above 50, and a real portly old man moving just his belly and hands, and intermittently a leg looked cute. A short old lady was not at all graceful but could move her shoulders quite nice, so her dance was mostly well timed shirks. Sat there wathcing and listening a few songs, then on bhaiya's behest left in the middle of a song. I said, impolite. Bhaiya said, chalta hai.
So at the casino, we didn't know how to play any game. What we knew to play or rather operate was the slot machine. So we got $40 worth of quarters and I squandered away my $20 in 10 minutes on 3 machines. Got back redemption tickets worth some 6-7 bucks. But bhabhi, true to her lucky-lady acclaim that bhaiya had talked about won us back what we had started with, just a quarter shy of $40. Baniyon ki aabru rakh li. I've decided to be back the next time with the knowledge of craps and blackjack, and win some good bucks. Already gathered some basics at the lunch table today from a colleague. Only once before have I won something I didn't toil to earn. Almost everyone curses his luck in chance games, and still people manage to find time and money to indulge. And they say, house always wins in Casinos. Odds are always against the players. Gambling is big money. I wonder why gujjus here haven't entered this line of business yet. Is it prohibited? Maybe there's a federal law. It certainly makes sense not to allow gujjus, else we'll soon see dollar rains in Gujarat.
I also clicked away furiously with my new Canon SD500. In the car, at the shopping mall and at foxwoods. Almost exhausted the 32 MB card and then when trying to figure out the free space, formatted the card. Then re-exhausted the card and acted smarter this time by not checking the free space and changing to the mammoth 1 Gig card. It's sure to last me the week provided I don't go trigger happy like yesterday night. I've to capture the 4 cisco buildings, and the hotel and the team here if possible. And this weekend is sure going to need all the memory I have in that card.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Monday, April 25, 2005
Rain on the highways
In my car, headed to bhaiya's place, and parked at the Charlton Plaza on the I-90. Want to spend some ten fifteen minutes here, cause i started too early and by the time I reach there, I want bhaiya to be there too. Plus it's raining... aah the rains.
Now this is one thing I just have to write about. I love rain even when it brings slush, water logs, traffic jams, and even national calamities. If I can opt between death in an arid desert suffering a draught and in Cherrapunji hit by lightning under the pouring skies, I'd pick the latter. And not just because it'll be quicker. So, when it rains in Bangalore I like to look outside the glass windows of my office. I like riding my bike in the rain. Papa would say it's not safe and others say i'll catch a cold. But they don't see the point. Rain lifts my spirits up! Driving in the rain isn't bad too; its got that fuzzy feeling of cosy comfort you get when in a balcony with a cup of tea looking out into a cats-and-dogs rain . I had to strain some to focus my eyes on the road ahead and not on the dancing wiper in front. It almost had me in a trance!
It's raining right now in Masachussetts and Connecticut. It has rained before too during my stay, but always in the nights. So when today morning it rained and then it rained again, I knew I was in for my first drive in the rain! My window in Holiday Inn faces wilderness - a field of green grass and woods beyond. And it doesn't open! *$%@#. Pushing one pane to a side I managed a thin opening thru which I looked out into the greenery, felt the drizzle, smelt the freshness... witnessed monsoon making love to spring! And then got back to work. Remember the ladder?
The rains on the highways here doesn't slow down the cars a bit. People trust their governments to not have chasm-sized cracks on the highways, they trust their anti-accident cars with anti-skid wheels, anti-lock brakes, anti-fogging AC's, they trust each other to drive at least sanely if not safely besides trusting in God. Good thing. I pretty much started off shuddering at the thought of skidding off the road turning at 60 mph or missing in my misty rearview some oncoming car in the left lane, and getting my car royally banged. But soon I was myself in the left lane coasting at 75. People tell me it's officially safe to add 10 to the speed limits here. I wonder why then the officers didn't keep the limits hard at +10 of the curent ones.
The sky is overcast right now at Charlton. Rain's reduced to a drizzle. There are two girls going jumping holding one each of their daddy's hands. They must think about me, "what a geek! playing with his laptop when he could be playing in the rain! Learn from us..." And several couples walking by my car. Let me go fill some petrol in the car, and then head to bhaiya's place. They and my SD500 are waiting for me there! I just have to be careful not to let the wiper hypnotise me.
Now this is one thing I just have to write about. I love rain even when it brings slush, water logs, traffic jams, and even national calamities. If I can opt between death in an arid desert suffering a draught and in Cherrapunji hit by lightning under the pouring skies, I'd pick the latter. And not just because it'll be quicker. So, when it rains in Bangalore I like to look outside the glass windows of my office. I like riding my bike in the rain. Papa would say it's not safe and others say i'll catch a cold. But they don't see the point. Rain lifts my spirits up! Driving in the rain isn't bad too; its got that fuzzy feeling of cosy comfort you get when in a balcony with a cup of tea looking out into a cats-and-dogs rain . I had to strain some to focus my eyes on the road ahead and not on the dancing wiper in front. It almost had me in a trance!
It's raining right now in Masachussetts and Connecticut. It has rained before too during my stay, but always in the nights. So when today morning it rained and then it rained again, I knew I was in for my first drive in the rain! My window in Holiday Inn faces wilderness - a field of green grass and woods beyond. And it doesn't open! *$%@#. Pushing one pane to a side I managed a thin opening thru which I looked out into the greenery, felt the drizzle, smelt the freshness... witnessed monsoon making love to spring! And then got back to work. Remember the ladder?
The rains on the highways here doesn't slow down the cars a bit. People trust their governments to not have chasm-sized cracks on the highways, they trust their anti-accident cars with anti-skid wheels, anti-lock brakes, anti-fogging AC's, they trust each other to drive at least sanely if not safely besides trusting in God. Good thing. I pretty much started off shuddering at the thought of skidding off the road turning at 60 mph or missing in my misty rearview some oncoming car in the left lane, and getting my car royally banged. But soon I was myself in the left lane coasting at 75. People tell me it's officially safe to add 10 to the speed limits here. I wonder why then the officers didn't keep the limits hard at +10 of the curent ones.
The sky is overcast right now at Charlton. Rain's reduced to a drizzle. There are two girls going jumping holding one each of their daddy's hands. They must think about me, "what a geek! playing with his laptop when he could be playing in the rain! Learn from us..." And several couples walking by my car. Let me go fill some petrol in the car, and then head to bhaiya's place. They and my SD500 are waiting for me there! I just have to be careful not to let the wiper hypnotise me.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Topless ladder, makes me madder
To begin with I was a happy software engineer who had a life of his own, who valued his lazy weekends, who fiercely guarded his right to fun, who worked on things that excited him, whose dream was 2 promotions, double of the then salary... and like many stable headed guys - eventually, home, wife and kids. It'll all be settled then. "Life mein settle ho jaane ko mangta".
I had good fun and I got 2 promotions and the salary doubled too. But every heartening letter handed over to me by my changing managers has had a barcoded price tag attached. Every subsequent grade takes my engineering and people-skill requirements to the 'next' level. And I desperately grope for a hand rail while going up rung by rung on my professoinal ladder. There doesn't seem to be an end to this climbing. I've reached a crossroad. Funny, how every down-in-the-dump moment in life seems a crossroad of decisions, while the up-on-cloud-nine moments never have any horns of dilemma attached to them. You never ask yourself, "What a wonderful evening! Should I go biking, or should i go binging?" Yes, so the crossroad... decide priorities like my dad decided. Gave up a plumb job to stick with family. Do I want my personal life or my work to be the bigger marble in the jar of my life?
I was not made for slogging. I never wished to slog. I wanted to do good work and not lots of work. With an 8 hour minimum sleep requirement, I could never have dreamt doing what I have seen Mohan and Cynthia do. But see what the ladder is doing to me. It's practically driving me crazy. I am here in the U.S., so close to my bhaiya and bhabhi, and all I am doing is code away? That too on a Friday night? When I could be shopping with them, when I could be seeing places, when I could be enjoying a good drive on the I-90 on my way to Connecticut. Shucks! Bring me down, I don't like it up here.
I had good fun and I got 2 promotions and the salary doubled too. But every heartening letter handed over to me by my changing managers has had a barcoded price tag attached. Every subsequent grade takes my engineering and people-skill requirements to the 'next' level. And I desperately grope for a hand rail while going up rung by rung on my professoinal ladder. There doesn't seem to be an end to this climbing. I've reached a crossroad. Funny, how every down-in-the-dump moment in life seems a crossroad of decisions, while the up-on-cloud-nine moments never have any horns of dilemma attached to them. You never ask yourself, "What a wonderful evening! Should I go biking, or should i go binging?" Yes, so the crossroad... decide priorities like my dad decided. Gave up a plumb job to stick with family. Do I want my personal life or my work to be the bigger marble in the jar of my life?
I was not made for slogging. I never wished to slog. I wanted to do good work and not lots of work. With an 8 hour minimum sleep requirement, I could never have dreamt doing what I have seen Mohan and Cynthia do. But see what the ladder is doing to me. It's practically driving me crazy. I am here in the U.S., so close to my bhaiya and bhabhi, and all I am doing is code away? That too on a Friday night? When I could be shopping with them, when I could be seeing places, when I could be enjoying a good drive on the I-90 on my way to Connecticut. Shucks! Bring me down, I don't like it up here.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
The Journey here - II
Day 2… Reached Frankfurt airport at about 7 in the morning. I had heard about it being the biggest airport in the world/Europe depending on how big the narrator wanted to make it seem. But because I could’ve compared it only with airports in the 4 indian metros and Bangalore, I found it incomparably big. As we started walking towards B24, we realized that we were a bit hungry and Sri pleasantly floated the idea of a round of Heinekens at the Goethe bar. I had actually been a little shy to ask the flight attendants for another glass of wine, or something stronger, and hence was more sober than I’d have wanted to. Therefore I agreed. And so we retraced our steps back to central shopping/eating place at the airport. Sri went away to the loo, and I used the time to buy a couple of chocolate gifts. Looking at all the different alcohols made me chide myself all the more for not being myself with the flight attendants. Gods sake, they were not more than ultra-refined sagar waiters, and I deserved all the drinks I could've asked for.
Anyways, so after that I roamed around a little in the other shops in their, including the gift/curio shop which was selling t-shirts and swarowsky. It reminded me of shweta’s rocking chair and smita’s wine bottle. I looked if I could find them there, and see how costlier they were here than in Bangalore, maybe to find how much I saved than if Dadaji were in Hitler’s army… The baniya brain. Then the beer at Goethe Bar, and breakfast of breads, fruits and orange juice. Made myself look foolish once more. After ordering the beer, which was Palmer and not Heineken, I said “And two vegetarian breakfasts please”. The good waiter asked “that’d be with coffee or tea?” Guessing he was trying to thrust another item from the menu at us, I said with a joke’y grin, “With the beer we just ordered!” And he informed us cordially pointing to the menu that the beverage comes with the breakfast. Sheesh!!! Backed off the joke’y grin and put on a sheepish smile. Well, actually beer with that breakfast was an odd combo, cause it brought together beer, tea and orange juice together in my tummy for the first time in my life. And they didn’t like it in there with each other too much. Then we went off to catch the flight.
Then another social hara-kiri… While sitting at the waiting lounge, the 3 drinks reached their final destination in me after running thru the system. Plus I had also to brush my teeth. I realized there were no rest rooms around, and I had to come out of the lounge. So, I handed over the boarding pass back to the girl at the counter and took a quick look at the two doors. One had a woman with ‘Damen’ drawn on it, so I entered the other one, only to realize once in there, that was neither a urinal nor a pot. There was a wash basin though, and I actually thought let me go ahead and brush my teeth. But then something inside me thankfully shouted out, and I came out to find a couple of glances thrown my way. I realized it was a baby loo! I hope I had come out quick enough for people to conjecture my using the wash basin! Went red-faced to another one some distance away with a man ( I double-checked) and ‘Herren’ drawn on it. So, on this flight I made good friends with one of the flight attendants. He was called Mark I guess. Nice pleasant face and cropped hair. Looked cool, and he served me couple of good drinks. Got drunk, finished Peter Colaco and then watched a little of ocean’s twelve and dozed off. Woke up and it was just few more hours to landing. Sri was engrossed in Naipaul’s India – a wounded civilization. Later he said he didn’t like the book much. The thoughts of u-know-what kept me company.
So landed at boston finally at around 1:30, and stayed in the aircraft for another hour, before the ‘U.S. Authorities cleared the plane for disembarkment’. And then the queue at the immigration/customs took another hour! And they say ‘it happens only in India’! Went to hertz to collect our pre-booked car. Now, I was all fired up about driving a car and all, but good sense prevailed and I declined Sri’s suggestion that I drive. Boston to Boxboro is just around 30-40 miles. It took us 2 and half hours to get here. How? Like true software guys, we went with yahoo maps ignoring the common sense and the actual MA map that we got from hertz. And that showed the shortest route, which was also quite cryptic. So, we got lost twice. I did look around at the houses and the old buildings in boston and neaby cities. And they seemed much more appealing than the pictures of San Jose and the bay area with huge buildings. I so can live out my retirement years here. Maybe I will, who knows. So ‘Middle road’ was what we had to take to reach holiday inn, bxb. And it was supposed to be 3.7 miles from exit 43 on RT-2 West. But after 0.9 miles we met with a T junction, guessed one way, and met one more 2 miles later. Came back, took the other one, went straight to RT-2 west again, came back again, took the same one this time, now not in search of the middle road but some gas station with a helpful soul in it. One such chinky soul of a girl offered suggestions even after confirming that she knew nuts about the area by asking ‘Boxboro? Which city?’. But another wizened old man was helpful with good directions and good jokes so we bought a couple of dollars stuff from his station, and finally reached holiday inn.
Went straight to calling bhaiya and smita. Talked for long, then thought of taking a bath before bhaiya came to pick me up. Just thought. Went for a quick drink and dinner with bhaiya and bhabhi. And then on the way back to bhaiya’s home, and then also till 4 in the morning, was talking to bhaiya and bhabhi about the current goings on.
Anyways, so after that I roamed around a little in the other shops in their, including the gift/curio shop which was selling t-shirts and swarowsky. It reminded me of shweta’s rocking chair and smita’s wine bottle. I looked if I could find them there, and see how costlier they were here than in Bangalore, maybe to find how much I saved than if Dadaji were in Hitler’s army… The baniya brain. Then the beer at Goethe Bar, and breakfast of breads, fruits and orange juice. Made myself look foolish once more. After ordering the beer, which was Palmer and not Heineken, I said “And two vegetarian breakfasts please”. The good waiter asked “that’d be with coffee or tea?” Guessing he was trying to thrust another item from the menu at us, I said with a joke’y grin, “With the beer we just ordered!” And he informed us cordially pointing to the menu that the beverage comes with the breakfast. Sheesh!!! Backed off the joke’y grin and put on a sheepish smile. Well, actually beer with that breakfast was an odd combo, cause it brought together beer, tea and orange juice together in my tummy for the first time in my life. And they didn’t like it in there with each other too much. Then we went off to catch the flight.
Then another social hara-kiri… While sitting at the waiting lounge, the 3 drinks reached their final destination in me after running thru the system. Plus I had also to brush my teeth. I realized there were no rest rooms around, and I had to come out of the lounge. So, I handed over the boarding pass back to the girl at the counter and took a quick look at the two doors. One had a woman with ‘Damen’ drawn on it, so I entered the other one, only to realize once in there, that was neither a urinal nor a pot. There was a wash basin though, and I actually thought let me go ahead and brush my teeth. But then something inside me thankfully shouted out, and I came out to find a couple of glances thrown my way. I realized it was a baby loo! I hope I had come out quick enough for people to conjecture my using the wash basin! Went red-faced to another one some distance away with a man ( I double-checked) and ‘Herren’ drawn on it. So, on this flight I made good friends with one of the flight attendants. He was called Mark I guess. Nice pleasant face and cropped hair. Looked cool, and he served me couple of good drinks. Got drunk, finished Peter Colaco and then watched a little of ocean’s twelve and dozed off. Woke up and it was just few more hours to landing. Sri was engrossed in Naipaul’s India – a wounded civilization. Later he said he didn’t like the book much. The thoughts of u-know-what kept me company.
So landed at boston finally at around 1:30, and stayed in the aircraft for another hour, before the ‘U.S. Authorities cleared the plane for disembarkment’. And then the queue at the immigration/customs took another hour! And they say ‘it happens only in India’! Went to hertz to collect our pre-booked car. Now, I was all fired up about driving a car and all, but good sense prevailed and I declined Sri’s suggestion that I drive. Boston to Boxboro is just around 30-40 miles. It took us 2 and half hours to get here. How? Like true software guys, we went with yahoo maps ignoring the common sense and the actual MA map that we got from hertz. And that showed the shortest route, which was also quite cryptic. So, we got lost twice. I did look around at the houses and the old buildings in boston and neaby cities. And they seemed much more appealing than the pictures of San Jose and the bay area with huge buildings. I so can live out my retirement years here. Maybe I will, who knows. So ‘Middle road’ was what we had to take to reach holiday inn, bxb. And it was supposed to be 3.7 miles from exit 43 on RT-2 West. But after 0.9 miles we met with a T junction, guessed one way, and met one more 2 miles later. Came back, took the other one, went straight to RT-2 west again, came back again, took the same one this time, now not in search of the middle road but some gas station with a helpful soul in it. One such chinky soul of a girl offered suggestions even after confirming that she knew nuts about the area by asking ‘Boxboro? Which city?’. But another wizened old man was helpful with good directions and good jokes so we bought a couple of dollars stuff from his station, and finally reached holiday inn.
Went straight to calling bhaiya and smita. Talked for long, then thought of taking a bath before bhaiya came to pick me up. Just thought. Went for a quick drink and dinner with bhaiya and bhabhi. And then on the way back to bhaiya’s home, and then also till 4 in the morning, was talking to bhaiya and bhabhi about the current goings on.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
The journey here - I
So, the journey has begun finally. Should I say it’s been a long wait. Frankly I’ve never ‘waited’ to go to U.S of A. But I’ve definitely wanted to go places, in, around or far away from India. I’ve 3 weeks to live the few dreams I’ve stored away in a safe corner somewhere.
So, I started off to home from office quite late. Delayed attending a meeting with our director called to call upon us to bring the new hires to the ‘social fabric’ of our team. Shankar came over to drop me off at the airport. I called up Mota, Sunni, Dhingra while on the way. Mota, who is leaving our froggy paradise the next to find his identity, his purpose, his calling in a ½ BHK somewhere in the airport road. Sunni who is getting married on the 5th may to Ranjita, his love, and then leaving Tawakkal’s too. Dhingra who has left Bangalore for good, become the brand manager of Peter England for North India. Then met Pondi at the airport, who will be moving to Boston soon. Shankar by the way, is getting engaged on 24th to Roopa. I enjoyed her going mushy lovey-dovey for shanky over the PC phone, not realizing she was on speakers! And while on the way on the auto talked to Shanky about the problems at work, in life and in my sinuses. Once at the airport, talked to Papa, Sasurji, Sasu/Buku and Rekha. Called Shweta but seemingly she had forgotten her cell at home again.
Met Sri on the flight. I asked, so what book are you carrying for the long journey ahead. He says none. I say why. He says I was thinking we will do some talking. Now, I am socially quite active. But while traveling somehow I prefer to be incommunicado. Reason being this is the only time I get to do a little introspection. I remember in my last long delhi-bangalore train journey of 36 hours, I spoke for a sum total of 3 minutes. But Sri was going to attempt intelligent conversation with me in that mode. We began with cribbing about Bangalore as all software engineers, and I was in good luck, because I had been reading Peter Colaco’s Bangalore - a century of tales from cantonment and city. We then moved on to our professional futures, our marriages and Cisco managers. This guy can actually make me go on talking even when I don’t want to! Only one other person can lay claim to this asset. The flight from Bangalore to Chennai was otherwise uneventful.
Chennai was 30 degrees at 9 in the night! Quickly checked in, and then called up JC and Priya after begging for change from one and all. One good soul actually gave away the only 1 rupee coin he had! And another stopped short a phone call to help. Such wonderful people and we curse Indians for their heartlessness. Finally managed to gather some 6 bucks and split them 2:1 between JC and Priya.
Post the measly dinner of patties and my much needed medicines, the talks actually turned to debate with Sri! Well he started it. He broached my close-to-heart topic, communal discord. Most of our gods are just kings or great leaders or just heroes. How many people worship one of the trinity compared to innumerable people with affinity for Ram and Krishna. So one day, people of the Gandhi clan, Manmohan Singh (the liberator who got us over our foreign debt), Rajnikant, Khushboo, Tendulkar stand as much chance at Godhood as does Satya Sai Baba, who declares he is the next Visnu incarnate after Ram and Krishna. The unified code of law, do we need hindu/muslim personal laws. Aryans/Dravidians, were the Veda’s just plagiarized from Dravidian literature by the Aryans. India is in a bad state, it’s a chaos… Well, that’s when I got into the debate mode. And when Sri brought up Gujarat, I went on on a monologue about what I know from first person accounts of my friends and family in Baroda. The big divide is very much palpable now in most Gujju cities. Can we do anything about it? I said I try to reduce the acerbity in the hindus I meet back home, but that’s about it. Sri wants change and soon. He’s got a friend who gave up a Microsoft job to join Civil services here. Now that’s some India Today material. So the debate went on mostly centred around why the religions we have now are what they are. The laid back and assimilating hindu’s, the staunch and quite masculine muslims, the convert! Convert! proselytizing Christians. Blah blah blah… for over an hour and a half. By the end, as happens with most of my debates, I started blabbering about the flight, the free local calls from the waiting lounge, and how I spent good time hunting for change downstairs, will they serve food on flight … All this to end the debate and soothe frayed nerves, more mine than his! He is one cool headed guy. Listens good deal, and brings back the debates flying tangentially to the crux quite effectively.
Well, anyways, so boarded the flight… I was actually trying to be more suave than I am normally, which is next to gauche. I feigned an accent when asking for directions and wishing good evening to the german attendant. If u know me, u know how I said this ‘Fifty-three G, where would it be… Thank you, good evening’. I then reproached myself and found 53 G and Sri. Sri went off to sleep almost immediately, and read thru some chapters of Peter Colaco’s. I guess by the time it reaches its owner, the book would be all but in tatters. But then a gift is a gift, regardless of how used it is! Isn’t it? Then started writing this piece, interrupted pleasantly by the attendant for some good Red wine (Isle was the brand) and would you believe it, Lemon Rice!! Well well, guess the germans just wanted to make us all Indians feel at home. But will someone tell them, most non-tambs hate Lemon Rice! And that too with good wine! Well forgive them God, or Rajni. So I guess I am done with the piece, and with the wine and water in and with my laptop on my tummy, my bladder is complaining. So good bye till later…
So, I started off to home from office quite late. Delayed attending a meeting with our director called to call upon us to bring the new hires to the ‘social fabric’ of our team. Shankar came over to drop me off at the airport. I called up Mota, Sunni, Dhingra while on the way. Mota, who is leaving our froggy paradise the next to find his identity, his purpose, his calling in a ½ BHK somewhere in the airport road. Sunni who is getting married on the 5th may to Ranjita, his love, and then leaving Tawakkal’s too. Dhingra who has left Bangalore for good, become the brand manager of Peter England for North India. Then met Pondi at the airport, who will be moving to Boston soon. Shankar by the way, is getting engaged on 24th to Roopa. I enjoyed her going mushy lovey-dovey for shanky over the PC phone, not realizing she was on speakers! And while on the way on the auto talked to Shanky about the problems at work, in life and in my sinuses. Once at the airport, talked to Papa, Sasurji, Sasu/Buku and Rekha. Called Shweta but seemingly she had forgotten her cell at home again.
Met Sri on the flight. I asked, so what book are you carrying for the long journey ahead. He says none. I say why. He says I was thinking we will do some talking. Now, I am socially quite active. But while traveling somehow I prefer to be incommunicado. Reason being this is the only time I get to do a little introspection. I remember in my last long delhi-bangalore train journey of 36 hours, I spoke for a sum total of 3 minutes. But Sri was going to attempt intelligent conversation with me in that mode. We began with cribbing about Bangalore as all software engineers, and I was in good luck, because I had been reading Peter Colaco’s Bangalore - a century of tales from cantonment and city. We then moved on to our professional futures, our marriages and Cisco managers. This guy can actually make me go on talking even when I don’t want to! Only one other person can lay claim to this asset. The flight from Bangalore to Chennai was otherwise uneventful.
Chennai was 30 degrees at 9 in the night! Quickly checked in, and then called up JC and Priya after begging for change from one and all. One good soul actually gave away the only 1 rupee coin he had! And another stopped short a phone call to help. Such wonderful people and we curse Indians for their heartlessness. Finally managed to gather some 6 bucks and split them 2:1 between JC and Priya.
Post the measly dinner of patties and my much needed medicines, the talks actually turned to debate with Sri! Well he started it. He broached my close-to-heart topic, communal discord. Most of our gods are just kings or great leaders or just heroes. How many people worship one of the trinity compared to innumerable people with affinity for Ram and Krishna. So one day, people of the Gandhi clan, Manmohan Singh (the liberator who got us over our foreign debt), Rajnikant, Khushboo, Tendulkar stand as much chance at Godhood as does Satya Sai Baba, who declares he is the next Visnu incarnate after Ram and Krishna. The unified code of law, do we need hindu/muslim personal laws. Aryans/Dravidians, were the Veda’s just plagiarized from Dravidian literature by the Aryans. India is in a bad state, it’s a chaos… Well, that’s when I got into the debate mode. And when Sri brought up Gujarat, I went on on a monologue about what I know from first person accounts of my friends and family in Baroda. The big divide is very much palpable now in most Gujju cities. Can we do anything about it? I said I try to reduce the acerbity in the hindus I meet back home, but that’s about it. Sri wants change and soon. He’s got a friend who gave up a Microsoft job to join Civil services here. Now that’s some India Today material. So the debate went on mostly centred around why the religions we have now are what they are. The laid back and assimilating hindu’s, the staunch and quite masculine muslims, the convert! Convert! proselytizing Christians. Blah blah blah… for over an hour and a half. By the end, as happens with most of my debates, I started blabbering about the flight, the free local calls from the waiting lounge, and how I spent good time hunting for change downstairs, will they serve food on flight … All this to end the debate and soothe frayed nerves, more mine than his! He is one cool headed guy. Listens good deal, and brings back the debates flying tangentially to the crux quite effectively.
Well, anyways, so boarded the flight… I was actually trying to be more suave than I am normally, which is next to gauche. I feigned an accent when asking for directions and wishing good evening to the german attendant. If u know me, u know how I said this ‘Fifty-three G, where would it be… Thank you, good evening’. I then reproached myself and found 53 G and Sri. Sri went off to sleep almost immediately, and read thru some chapters of Peter Colaco’s. I guess by the time it reaches its owner, the book would be all but in tatters. But then a gift is a gift, regardless of how used it is! Isn’t it? Then started writing this piece, interrupted pleasantly by the attendant for some good Red wine (Isle was the brand) and would you believe it, Lemon Rice!! Well well, guess the germans just wanted to make us all Indians feel at home. But will someone tell them, most non-tambs hate Lemon Rice! And that too with good wine! Well forgive them God, or Rajni. So I guess I am done with the piece, and with the wine and water in and with my laptop on my tummy, my bladder is complaining. So good bye till later…
An American Loo Story
Americans value their privacy more than any other race, so I was told. You can't call on someone without calling up first, you shouldn't knock on unknown doors, when lost in some town to ask for directions to I-90 or to a gas station. Even at the queues at Six Flags there was good breathing space between unacquainted people, although none between them cute cuddly couples who were busy saving each other's lips from the scorching sun above.
It's beyond me, therefore, why there are no separators between most urinals here. Of course not many men would be interested in taking a peek when taking a pee. But why not ensure the privacy of some vulnerably gifted men from prying eyes of others with right ear-rings? One granite slab of 3'x2' at the right height is all you need. Back home, we have them nice and big, the slabs that is. Sometimes taller than required...
So what's the reason then? Maybe it's the carefree open culture of men's locker rooms taken to men's lookar rooms. Maybe it's a byproduct of the have-it-flaunt-it ideology prevalent here. Maybe that’s one reason for gay abundance in the western part of the world. Regardless of reasons or ramifications, I did take time to adjust to the revelation. I can't look a little to the left or right as I am used to. Have to stare straight ahead at the flush knob, or up at the ceiling or down at...
And then there was this McDonald's restroom on I-95 where there was no flush handle and no auto-flush either. I moved away, swayed left right in front of what I thought looked like an infra-red sensor, but nothing happened. If you know me, picture me or else picture yourself doing that in there and you'll know how funny I looked. Being a reformed Indian citizen, I didn't want to leave it as is. That's when a good man noticed and said "No flush in there. that's a waterless urinal." Looked up the web and found: http://www.rotaloo.com/03urinal.html. U.S. - now a pioneer in bathroom technology too!
It's beyond me, therefore, why there are no separators between most urinals here. Of course not many men would be interested in taking a peek when taking a pee. But why not ensure the privacy of some vulnerably gifted men from prying eyes of others with right ear-rings? One granite slab of 3'x2' at the right height is all you need. Back home, we have them nice and big, the slabs that is. Sometimes taller than required...
So what's the reason then? Maybe it's the carefree open culture of men's locker rooms taken to men's lookar rooms. Maybe it's a byproduct of the have-it-flaunt-it ideology prevalent here. Maybe that’s one reason for gay abundance in the western part of the world. Regardless of reasons or ramifications, I did take time to adjust to the revelation. I can't look a little to the left or right as I am used to. Have to stare straight ahead at the flush knob, or up at the ceiling or down at...
And then there was this McDonald's restroom on I-95 where there was no flush handle and no auto-flush either. I moved away, swayed left right in front of what I thought looked like an infra-red sensor, but nothing happened. If you know me, picture me or else picture yourself doing that in there and you'll know how funny I looked. Being a reformed Indian citizen, I didn't want to leave it as is. That's when a good man noticed and said "No flush in there. that's a waterless urinal." Looked up the web and found: http://www.rotaloo.com/03urinal.html. U.S. - now a pioneer in bathroom technology too!
Sunday, April 17, 2005
To go or not to go...
I am here in Boxborough, Masachussetts. A constant hassle for me till now has been getting my sandwiches or burgers or bagels made. Back in an the Bangalore Subway, the guy asks a minimum of questions, which one has to answer in a Yes/No. And not multiple choice, "American or Swiss or Poblano cheese" or even worse open ended ones, "What else would you like in your sandwich?" To begin with I used to baffle a guess, "Umm, Poblano" only to be looked at patronizingly as if "Poor new desi, doesn't know his ABCD!" And then my manager told me that I should ask for Swiss, Swiss is best. "What bread would you like?" I haven't yet found out all the choices for that one. But I should never have said, "Umm, wheat bread?". In another place I haughtily said "What've you got?". And with a very impressive and equally incomprehensible accent she rattled off the options which flew high above me, and said quite helpfully in the end "Or I could give you a wrap", which I understood cent percent. I ended up eating a veg wrap when I wanted a sandwich.
And I've heard quite a few styles of 'here, to go' variations. This actually sounds quite hip to me. Crisp, communcative and with as much politeness as the customer merits by adding 'sir', 'would u want it', 'you'd like it', etc at the right places. I liked the expression, and so also the people using them, esepecially of the right gender. I wonder if back in Baroda "rehvanu ke javanu?" would catch on as easily.
Anyways, so now I've learnt some and gained good confidence. So when presented with them complex choices, I still fumble around in my mind, but with a smart smile, an outward me speaks up "As you would like it, please!"
And I've heard quite a few styles of 'here, to go' variations. This actually sounds quite hip to me. Crisp, communcative and with as much politeness as the customer merits by adding 'sir', 'would u want it', 'you'd like it', etc at the right places. I liked the expression, and so also the people using them, esepecially of the right gender. I wonder if back in Baroda "rehvanu ke javanu?" would catch on as easily.
Anyways, so now I've learnt some and gained good confidence. So when presented with them complex choices, I still fumble around in my mind, but with a smart smile, an outward me speaks up "As you would like it, please!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)