Seven days seven flights

Flying from south east Asia to the far west America through Europe has always fascinated me and at the same time driven me crazy at times. This post captures some of those moments during my recent travel. A perfect blend of horror and nightmare.

I was scheduled to travel around the globe for two weeks when hurricane Sandy hit the eastern coast of the United States. Not having much information on weather, I started for the airport in Bangalore. Upon checking in, I enquired whether connecting flights from Europe and Washington are on time. About the same time, I received the text message on possible cancellations of both connecting flights. Having no other options left, I had a subway sandwich at the airport and returned home. That was by far the most expensive sandwich I have ever had. One consoling reason for having been to the airport.

Rescheduled the flights for next week. Now I have to cover both USA and Germany in a week. Totally seven flights in seven days. One common thing is nightmare.

The horror started while leaving USA for Germany. My flight to Chicago was late by two hours - the duration I planned for transit before boarding next flight for Germany. The flight landed ten minutes before my other flight's departure giving a hope. I ran, ran, and ran. After about two miles of running - with nothing eaten earlier for four hours - got to see my flight taxiing for take off. I can only wave my hand and wish others a safe journey.

It was already 11’O clock when the airline rescheduled my flight for the next day. Had to call my company's travel centre to book a hotel in Chicago for that night's stay. General fact is that travel centre people hardly travel. They know nothing about journey. Map-idiots is the term. They put you on hold no matter from where and at what time you call them. Travel centre booked me in a hotel that is forty minutes away from the airport. But ensured that it is only two km away from the airport. Two km drive can take forty odd minutes only in Bangalore.

A Chinese cab driver was to my rescue. At least that was my thought until he took me for a ride metaphorically and literally. He was carrying a book that had street addresses and directions in text. No TomTom. A Chinese guy with no respect for technology and carrying around a paper book was indeed weird to me. Having driven for more than half-an-hour, I see nothing on road except darkness. It was a highway. The driver was easily irritated when I asked him twice whether we are on the right path. Asians, by nature, are good at annoying and very good at easily annoyed. After ten more minutes of drive, he realised that we are not on the right path. He turned around and was leading me towards airport.

Reached the hotel that was near the airport runway. First time in my life, I thought, I touched my nose from behind my head. The hotel had the same name as the one that my travel centre guru had booked me in. At the reception, I was told that I am at the wrong hotel. Have to travel forty minutes west to reach the right hotel. Already traveled east for forty-five. I had no eagerness left in me to be a Columbus rediscovering the promising land. I asked the receptionist to cancel my other booking and check me in there. He graciously agreed. After they are hotels run under one umbrella. I drove away the Chinese guy without paying his hundred odd bucks. I was in no mood to pay. When I think about it now, I feel that I should have gifted him with a GPS instead.

When I hit the bed, I knew it was the hard earned sleep that awaited. It was approaching midnight. Why do all bad things come on the same day? A perennial question.

There were many first times for me from this incident. My first flight miss. My first two mile run. My first time in Chicago. My first Chinese cab driver. My first one hour ride without knowing where I was heading to. My first time in not paying a cab driver.

What I learnt is simple:

Never trust a travel agent!

The Bribal Shower

I got my passport reissued!

The feeling I get upon writing the above sentence is inexplicable. Why is that so? Is it that hard? I think again. Yes, it can never be described in mere words. Especially when you are a part of corrupted democracy. I don't think it would be the same feeling when you get your passport reissued in any other part of this world - developed countries, in particular. I am a blessed one in this regard!

By the way, what I didn't explicitly mention before is that I got my passport reissued without bribing the policeman despite his demands. I cannot believe that a policeman treats bribe as his birthright. When I denied paying it, I simply know how Alexander the great would have felt when everything was just under his feet.

I realised something during this episode. In India, things should not be done just right. They should be done right politically. If I were to deny the bribe straightaway - although morally correct - I might end up being on the wrong foot. Unfortunately, today morality and politics avoid taking the same road. So I went to the policeman with a trick. In India, I go to police station to verify myself and my residential address. How a policeman verifies my home address by sitting behind his desk is beyond my comprehension. By the way, I only have a PhD.

After being asked to produce several documents that verify and vouch for my existence on earth, policeman signed my application and stamped it as verified. Now the fun part begins. He used an amusing word for bribe. The service charge. I wanted to ask him whether there is any tax on that service charge. But I controlled myself. After all I need my passport. I politely asked him for a receipt for his service charge instead. He jokingly asked me to collect the receipt later. I stood up, thanked, and asked him to give me a call as soon as the receipt is ready. He blushed and can only do that. After a month, I received my new passport.

How easy it is to tackle bribe and corruption. No fasts. No hunger strikes. No threats. Just common sense. Same as what Gandhi's life teaches - awareness. Please be aware:

Receipts, not fasts, are our birthright!

The Big Brother

This Big Brother not only watches you but also pokes his nose into your privacy. He proclaims that he is well-mannered and civilized. He seeks solutions externally to its internal problems. He trades war for peace.

You do all you could during the year. You get into a room with your manager to review your annual performance. Invariably, every manager would have at least one point for your development needs. Their imagination rockets beyond mine. At least they do their job once.

Connect the dots between above two paragraphs. In this blog, I am the manager. Wow, what a feeling to be at the giving end for once. Undoubtedly, at the receiving end is the self-proclaimed superpower in terms of nuclear weapons and war - the United States of America - the big brother and bully of the world.

Why is USA an acronym of "least admired" in my dictionary? My answer is simple, honest, and to the point. Because it is.

USA, in the simplest terms, owns the world according to its political leaders. Every president of the United States - no matter black or white - considers himself to be the messiah and dictates policies for all countries. All of them undoubtedly know everything from how should Iran use nuclear fuel to how China should reform its economic policies to how India should not interfere in Internet screening. But when it comes to America, they simply are a failure. Failure in understanding the American needs. Deaf and dumb towards healthcare. Blind towards credits and loans. Careless about gun culture.

Alfred Nobel alone is to blame. Peace prize for war is the first time in the history of civilization. Killing hundreds of thousands of innocent people elsewhere because few thousands lost lives in your country will bring peace to none. Agreed that a life is a life. One life is as precious as many. But an eye for an eye will only make you the president of the United States. Money spent in wars could have easily earned jobs, security, and healthcare. But who wants solution to our problems. We are America. We always want to create one outside.

The election is around the corner. President Obama is expected to win despite his failures. Only because the opponent is a disaster. He will make an astounding speech again upon his victory. But everything stops there. Nothing moves afterwards except his dog.

The Verdict.

America, the developments are much needed not in your infrastructure but undoubtedly in your outlooks. Nobody has conquered the world without conquering self. And you are "nobody". Before you dream of owning the world, own yourself first.  Please keep in mind the following corporate mantra:

The developed always needs development!

Unknown Angel

My wife has asked me to write this blog on the quality time of two weeks. Oops... I might have fallen for a prank here.  In any case, I dedicate this to her.

Today is farewell to my short-lived bachelor life since the wedding last year. My wife was traveling for two weeks on official business. On hearing about her official plans a month ago I was overjoyed. Had gotten myself ready, as if, to welcome a long lost friend with countless things to share.

The big day had come. I sent off my wife that morning. At work, thoughts about being a bachelor for the next two weeks brought sporadic smiles on my face. I couldn't wait to invite freedom. Freedom from answering the same question more than once. Those who know women - especially wives - will certainly agree with me on this. Answering tricky question is not my cup of tea. Husbands may have practiced and be certain of answering the question. However the talent that wives possess is unmatched. Wives pose the same question in different ways until husbands give in and answer in a way that they regret later. At times, when we are taken care of and treated to an extent of mere five-year olds, the dream of being a grown up all though life has suddenly be proven meaningless. And wives don't understand that. With all due considerations, the two weeks seemed like a long time. A dream come true.

All joy lasted only till evening. When I returned home and opened the door, a rush of loneliness possessed me. Independence and freedom became pointless. My long lost friend was now a stranger. I had nothing to share. Who would share with a stranger? A day itself seemed like a very long time now. An urge to answer questions - no matter how many times asked - grew. Anything to get my married life back. All of a sudden, my mobile rang. Yes, she was the one. Geared up with questions on what I ate to what all I did. Giving away free advices on eating fruits and drinking water. For someone who lived most part of his life alone and outside, this turns out to be a little annoyance. But undoubtedly worth it. My IQ did improve in one year.

Thanks to technology - voice and text - two weeks flew away without my felt lonely. Awaiting eagerly to be imprisoned again.

Bachelor life is an unknown angel. Who would trust an unknown angel against a known ___? The blank is for my wife to fill out :-)

Adverse Pervertisement

If and only if I were Shakespeare, the word advertisement will be re-defined and re-coined to sound like the title of this blogpost. In a country that is obsessed with "parental" guidance at every stage of life - needless to mention no matter how old you are - marketing takes its own road to glory. More often than not, the product itself is overshadowed by the very idea of advertisement.

Unlike the past, today's advertisements are hardly a source of amusement. But most of them are certainly bemusing. What strikes me harder is that all those substandard ads are derogatory towards women. None of those groups that fight for mere 33% reservation choose to fight against male or perhaps product chauvinism. Probably some of these ad filmmakers are married to women heading those groups. Vent their anger out at work. Makes sense to me. However, the theme still remains unacceptable.

Angels fall from the sky due to Axe deodorant. Either angels are easier to get or Axe is anesthetic. After using one, I incline to support the latter reason. None of those angels that fall quite look to me as "angels". They look as if someone who never had used any whitening cream. Perhaps no advertisements in heaven, from our confident women who are in their 50s and do not understand aging, for Nivea or Olay.

After whitening cream, what? A guy will propose to the angel or at least angel-like Olay using woman. He will say it like Sid - during the convocation ceremony speech with Frooti in hand and support of the University's principal. He gets married to her with Skoda Rapid as his price.

Later in life, one day he comes back from work finds a Skybag salesman in his bedroom closet while his wife is lying on bed covered in sheet. Even a primary school kid will understand the scene today. But the salesman is shown to convince the husband that he demonstrates to his wife how good Skybag looks in their closet. The husband is amazed and wants to buy a Skybag. This one, in particular, is offensive to men as well.

What happens when both husband and wife don't trust each other? Simple. They buy Nokia Lumia mobiles. They can track each other on the move and show up in places as if they bump into each other by accident. Nokia is always a brand of trust.

When nothing works out, get Idea 3G. Being haunted in this life isn't enough for them. Be Certain of haunted in the afterlife as well. Good to know that junior B  goes to heaven.

I will stick to Airtel. Be happy in hell.

Not all those who speak Hindi are from Bombay

This happened today morning when I was on my way to work. Since I started late from home this morning, in order to escape the horrible traffic and crowd of Bangalore, I decided to walk up to the nearby junction from where I can catch a relatively empty bus. To diverge from the main topic - Yes, I take public transport to work. I don't have a car! Whenever I tell this to my friends or colleagues, from their facial expressions I could  understand that I just sounded like an alien. In a city like Bangalore without a car. I don't have to elaborate. The statement speaks for itself.

I was nearing the junction. Chaos. Everyone wants to go and no ones wants to wait. In India, when you notice carefully(?), the drivers honk even when the signal is red as if they beg the signal to turn green. Perhaps, signal is seen as a god to whom they plead on-the-fly and pay respects by honking. The signal was red. Two motorists came to a halt. However, the second rider was unable to control the speed before coming to a halt. He started yelling in Kannada (regional language) at the first rider for suddenly applying the brakes on seeing red signal. The traffic police who was standing few yards away was observing this. The first rider, in turn, asked the second in Hindi (National language) to pay attention to traffic signals hereafter. So far their yelling was all about road safety. I was not interested and started walking away. But the arguments that followed caught my attention and gripped me. The second motorist - guy from this region - a Kannadiga - got down from his motorcycle and approached the first motorcycle. In the highest pitch I have ever heard, the first motorist said the following in Kannada (regional language):

"This is not your Bombay. This is our Bangalore. Talk in Kannada. Or shut up".

The first thing that impressed me is the ignorance of first motorist. I immediately pitied him. Not all those who speak Hindi are from Bombay. This is textbook. Secondly, the words "your" and "our" are quite amusing in this context.

I fail to understand the underlying cause of such hatred. Although prevalent in India, Bangalore seems to display more of it than others. Logically, regional people population in Bangalore is less than 30%. Those who come from other states help build economy of Bangalore. Developments in and around Bangalore including Metro is because of those who live, work, earn, and spend here. Instead of being blamed, they must be praised and celebrated. Regional fanatics should understand where they failed. Blaming the successful is a typical quality of a loser. Failures never make us losers. Ever.

Shouldn't migration be a right rather than an opportunity? I mean globally.