Back!!

January was my first "dry" month for a long time. I wrote this post at 2:00 am on 5th Feb. But I am posting it now. Doesnt it tell something.

Six months is a long time to be away from home, to be away from India. So when I was at Gate 4 of JFK's Terminal 3 I could feel India right away. Curiously this gate is tucked away in a non-descrepit corner of an otherwise swank airport. It is dark, small and to be reached only by a narrow alley, almost like the dark underbelly of JFK.

The space behind me in the queue had decreased suddenly. I could feel the breath of the man behind me. The patronizing tone of the airport staff was back. Everything seemed more nosier and so overcrowded.

The Auntyjis and Dadimas looked out of place. Uncomfortable in their ill-fitting jeans and long overcoats. Assuring me that I still wasnt in any Indian airport but JFK. Here, for those last few moments no prying eyes would talk about their clothes. For those last few moments you could be lost in a crowd and you can be you.

I boarded Delta 16 which would take me to Mumbai. By the end of the trip I hated Delta and would not fly again with them. Their airhostess are almost like old hags. They put on a condescending tone in every plane going in or coming out of India. As if they are giving everyone a masterclass in travelling ettiquette. The few Indian and Pakistani crew that are on board are at all moments disowning their own creeds. Almost pleading to their foreign counterparts "I am so sorry about them".

The food at Delta has variety only on the menu card. "What would you like, Western or Vegeterian?" the middle aged lady smiles. I reply with a smile "Indian Non-Vegetarian". The "Rogan Josh" in the menu card got me going. She repeats her question "Western or Vegeterian?" with the same fixed smile. I thought I was inaudible and unclear as usual. So I repeated "Indian Non-Vegeterian" with an even broader smile. She repeats her question once again "Western or Vegeterian?".

This time the smile had shrunk to a smirk. I was surprised, I raised my voice even further - "Indian Non Vegetarian". This time I ensured my smile was even broader. And then she gave up and said "There is no Indian Non Vegetarian". This time with as much sacrcasm as a sambar made in a non South Indian household.

Why the hell was I given a fancy menu card. I couldnt hide my own sarcasm when I replied "WEEstern".

The immigration was smooth. I proceeded to belt no. 6. "My dear India" was screaming me a welcome there.

People knocking my leg with their luggage cart. Pushing and shoving as if the world is about to stop in the next 30 minutes. People were already soliciting to take my luggage. The signposts in the airport were again less intelligent, less intuitive some would say. I couldnt find my way and after sweating (yes, I am sweating again) around with my huge pile of luggage I am finally waiting in the domestic terminal of chattrapati Shivaji Hawai Adda for my flight to Hyderabad.

Hyderabad, where my wife and daughter is waiting for me to return "home". I wish I could land there and say "Oh honey! I am so glad to be back". When did I start calling my wife "Honey". But it is just a wish and wishes rarely come true.

P.S. - I did hug my wife un-Indian ishtyle but I could not manage to say "Honey"