Pensieve 2.0

I’m falling into a state of depression. I can’t believe the last book of the Harry Potter series is out and I have already read it. I just can’t take the idea that I won’t get the chance to wait eagerly for the next book.

Being a faithful follower of Harry Potter, I won’t spoil any of the plots of the book. I thought I’d just mention how my day went on 21st Saturday.

I pre-ordered the book in the bookstore nearest to my apartment, obviously to reach home as soon as I bought the book and start reading the book. Unfortunately, the earliest opening time anywhere in Bangalore was 6 am. And, to my dismay, Crossword Indiranagar, where I was to get my book was to open only at 7 am.

So, me and KP decided to go at 6.15 am and wait outside the store. The others were not interested in Harry Potter. We left them to their pathetic life devoid of imaginations and fantasies. (Take no offence if you are reading this, guys, but your life is really pathetic, trying to spoil the plot to us with snapshots from a traitor which came on the internet on the previous day, and jeering and calling a spell casting as a mere stick rotation)
But typical to the nature of bachelors, we started off 15 minutes late. I was wearing my favorite Harry Potter T-shirt and shorts. By the time I parked my car near the shop, it was already crowded, with a queue of 30+ people. I felt a tiny bit of guilt for not showing my fidelity. I should have reached at 6. I should have been in the front.

That feeling faded away soon when the shop was opened and the first group of about 10 customers were let in. From then, it was a feeling of longing. A part of my brain even thought about gatecrashing, throwing the receipt to the counter, taking a book and running out. We couldn’t get in for another long 30 minutes.

I got the book, took a bookmark from the counter and started reading the book on the scene(until KP collected his copy and came outside). I was engrossed wholly in the book even as I walked towards my car. I heard someone call out, “Take your time, dude. You have all day to finish the book.” I grinned at the group of people sitting near the pavement, waiting for their turn to get inside.

We drove back, I parked my car in the most lopsided manner that could be possible and rushed to my apartment. I continued from where I had stopped. By 10.30, I had finished about 100 pages. KP, being a voracious reader, was thrice as fast as me. I skipped breakfast, and went for lunch only because I was really hungry. I even considered taking the book to the restaurant to read it while having dinner. I had already lost about 4 hours because I fell asleep afternoon after having a heavy lunch. Throughout the day, I was interrupted (to my great annoyance) by a number of phone calls. I never received so many phone calls in one day. It had to be this day! Sigh!

I finished the book at around 2am, had a quick browsing of the internet and started my reread. I won’t tell anything about the story, but I’d say this is one of the best books in the series ever. I’d say third best after GoF and PoA. The book is really fast-paced, and we are in the thick of the action from the first chapter itself.

Ecstatic though I am after knowing (or living, rather) how the saga ends, I also feel strangely depressed. It is as if someone has abandoned me in the muggle world and I don’t know the way to get back. My only hope remains in the two films that are remaining. Nevertheless, I can only feel grateful that I lived in the times of Harry Potter and Joanne Rowling.

Too many drafts of late. I’m never finding enough time to finish those and post them here. Sigh!

I went to Palakkad taking a week off last week. Needless to say, I found myself in trouble again. This knotty situation was all about “the knot”.
The knot is a physical tying of a knot which they say is metaphor for the knot or binding of the lives of two people, the man and his wife (For female chauvinists, the woman and her poor “Mr. bechara” husband), but it actually is a rather knotty problem — from then on, you need to have a lot of discipline and responsibilities. So, I reached my home on the fine morning of Friday, a bit soaked in the drizzle. I had my morning chores, which I couldn’t finish off in the train. Then I had my breakfast with my mother. It was then that the lightning struck from the skies, right on to my head. My mom said some distant relative had come with a marriage proposal of some distant relative of hers. So it was twice the distance!
The conversation went like this:
Mother: I’ve started checking your horoscope. It is very difficult to find a girl from our community and with good family background, and for you two to like each other.
Me: NO! No No No… Don’t start it.
Mother: You are 24 years old.
Me: You know, it is good to hear someone say I’m getting old, for a change. But not in this matter.
Mother: I’m not asking you to marry immediately. It will take about a year to find the right girl…
Me: I have aspirations right now; you know that. I want to study further. I don’t want to marry until I’m 27-28.
Mother(As if she didn’t hear what I said): …then you can get engaged and wait for another year if you want.
Me: You can do whatever you want with the horoscope. But I will reject it outright if you show me some alliance before I’m 27.
Mother: As a matter of fact, there is a proposal now.
Me: WHAT?
Mother: You know Annam (She was the distant relative), don’t you? I’d met her in Chelakkara when she asked me if I started looking for alliances. I just nodded. Yesterday, she met your aunt and complained to her that I was not interested in the alliance.
Me: Great! So now everyone knows there is a proposal coming in!
Mother: Look, In this case we don’t have to worry about the family. They are known ones. We just have to match the horoscopes, and then it’s up to you two to talk and decide if you like each other.
Me: I don’t want to get married now.
Mother: Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to get married soon.
Me: I don’t want to get married now.
Mother: You can get engaged if you like each other and then wait for a year.
Me: Sigh! I don’t want to get married now.I went to my grandmother’s house. We had the first death anniversary rituals of my grandfather. It got over by noon.

When the Vadhyar (the priest who presides over the ritual) was having his lunch, he asked for more rice, “Koncham annam kondu vaango”(”Annam” also means rice). On hearing the word “Annam” I nervously looked around. I saw an evil grin on my aunt’s face as she looked at me. After having a heavy lunch, it was time for a post-lunch family gathering. My mother’s siblings and their family were present. My uncle and family had come from US.

I somehow always liked small gatherings like this. I always enjoyed talking to my aunt because she was the only person who was more talkative than me.

So there I was, tired after gobbling up lots of food. When I saw the evil grin in my aunt’s face again, I sensed it was coming.

Aunt: I heard you are getting married.
Me: O really? I didn’t hear any such news.
Aunt: It’s about time you got married.
Me: No. I’m only 24.
Aunt: It is good for you. You won’t have to struggle with bachelor life anymore.
Me: That is true, but I’m just not ready.
Aunt: Come on. She is a very nice girl. And it is our family.
Me: Yeah, right. Something like my grandma’s cousin’s son-in-law’s sister’s daughter is family. Besides, you haven’t even seen her to say she is a nice girl.
Aunt: So we will be back in India again in an year.
Me: Shut up, okay? What the hell is this pulling-legs for?
Aunt: Just some after-lunch entertainment.
Me: Right. I’M THE VICTIM.

After some emotional blackmail (I finally got my chance to get even with my mother), my mom agreed that she will just match our horoscopes for the sake of being courteous with her “distant relative”.
I was so relieved on having escaped from the knot (for the time being) when another less lethal issue came. This too was about “tying the knot”.
My brother came to me asking me to teach him how to tie a tie.
I went on, “Watch carefully. The perfect Windsor is an art…”

Thursday evening was pleasant. I was back from office early that day and was planning on going out. I decided to take an auto. I walked the small distance through the alley where my apartment was. My muscles were spraining; I should walk more often. I reached the main road. Oddly enough, it wore a deserted look. The velvety brown of the evening sky was already fading into the blue silhouette of the moonlight.
There were no vehicles or human beings, or even dogs (There will at least be 3 stray dogs per street in Bangalore) in sight.
‘Oh dear, will I have to walk till Airport Road now to get an auto?‘, my lazy legs complained and my mind translated it to English.
I uttered a non-verbal spell (well! I didn’t utter in strict sense since it was non-verbal) to summon an auto. Even I was surprised to see an auto coming almost immediately behind me. I waved to him to stop. He didn’t seem to notice and passed me. Then the auto screeched to a halt about 10 feet ahead. I ran towards the auto.
The driver had a frightened look in his face. He looked at me, then looked down towards my feet, then again looked at me.
I too looked at my own feet, just by instinct. What was wrong with my feet?
‘Elli hogbeku saar?’, (Where to, sir?) he asked, anxiety resonating in every syllable that came out.
‘KR Puram’
‘I’ll go through the main road, is it okay?’
‘Okay’, I replied, not understanding what he meant by the last statement. I didn’t know of any shortcuts or alleys to my destination.

I got in and he started moving. He didn’t speak anything till we reached 100ft road. The looming silence instantly changed into ear-shattering din. I heard something like a gasp of relief coming from the driver.

He turned his head when we had stopped at a traffic signal and asked something like, “Kannada maathadubeka?” (Do you speak Kannada?)
I understood what he meant and replied, “Kannada gothilla” (I don’t know Kannada)
“Hindi?”
“Oh. Hindi is okay”
[ Rest of the conversation was in Hindi, mostly a monologue. Translated to English. Everything in italics is whatever I thought, but didn't say. ]
Driver: I almost escaped from that ghost today.
Me: What?
Driver: A ghost. She asked me for a ride. Said she will pay 200 rupees. Scared the shit out of me.
Me: *Oh really?*
Driver: She came in a car, said she wanted to go to ***** (I didn’t get the name of the place when he said it.) Offered to pay anything. These lady ghosts…once they enter our body, they will never leave us. Ask us all sorts of things. They won’t go until you die. You will be doomed.
Me: *Duh*
Driver: I just mustered enough courage to say No and get the hell out of there.
Me: Oh. Was that why you were driving so fast?
Driver: Obviously….She wanted to take me to a deserted place and possess me. After that, I would have no control over myself. I’ll lose my family and kids and will have to go after her. She won’t let me enjoy family life as I would have to satisfy her always.
Me: *[Evil grin]* You looked at my feet.
Driver: I was checking whether you were human; whether you had feet.
Me: Hehe. *Muhahahaha*
Driver: No sir, I was so freaked out. Really. In my village, we take special amulets and all from the priest. We are safe there. But there are no such safety precautions here in city.
Me: *All ghosts migrated to cities now. Yeah, I can see*
Driver: I think she was a Muslim ghost. That makes it even more difficult.
Me: Why so?
Driver: Because Hindu mantras won’t work on Muslim ghosts. You need Muslim mantras from Quran for those.
Me: *Boy! This is getting better and better*
Me: What did she look like? Was she wearing white saree?
Driver: I don’t know. She came in a car. Her hair was loose and wildly bushy. Her face was white.
Me: You mean fair skin?
Driver: No sir. It was white color. Like white paint was smeared. Only her eyes were brown.
Me: And she was driving a car.
Driver: Yes.

I suddenly remembered the ghost from the movie “The Ring”. Then the thought suddenly hit me squarely in my mind..like a 10-pin strike. It might just have been some ordinary lady who was careless enough to go out without removing her facial. The poor lady was mistaken for a ghost! Imagine her perplexed face when the driver had sped from her at breakneck speed!
Hell of a ghost story for me!!

---

I didn’t speak much for the rest of the journey. He was saying something, I just kept replying “Mm.Hmm”,”I see” etc. idly without listening to what he was saying.

We reached my destination. I checked the meter and gave him the money.
“One and a half meter charge, sir”
*Bloody hell! This guy had the nerves to ask for more money even in this condition.*
I argued, “What is the extra half for? Your ghost story?”

What is love?
Love is a score of zero. It usually is in Tennis. But it happens in life too.

He fell in love with her at first sight. He didn’t know why.
Was it her beauty?
She was not very beautiful, so to speak. She was not too tall, had freckles, but had a very pleasant fair face and beautiful short hair.
Was it her attitude?
I just said it was love at first sight. He hadn’t even talked to her.
Was it some kind of crush/infatuation?
I think not. Because this was a different kind of feeling.
He always felt the electric shock passing through his spine and ensnaring his body whenever he saw her face.
He always blushed visibly whenever she looked at him.
He always saw her in his dreams everyday after he first saw her.

One day he came back from office, he was in cloud nine. I saw the twinkle in his eyes. He said she spoke to him for the first time.
I got excited and asked him about their conversation.
“Well…I was walking through the pavement when she came walking opposite to me. I moved aside and let her pass as it was a bit narrow. She looked at me and said “Thank you”. I saw her smile.”
“So?”
“So what? That was all.”
“Holy cow! You just had the most romantic conversation ever.”
“Really?”
“Yeah! Right! Get a grip, dude!”

The next day he came from office and claimed that she too seemed to be interested.
“I saw her blush when our eyes met.”
I said, “That might be because she already has a rosy cheek. Remember? She has freckles.
“Or you might have blushed so much that your eyes were covered with blood and you saw everything red.”
“Problem hai yaar. I’ve fallen in love with her.”
“Then why don’t you go and talk to her?”
“I’m afraid. I don’t even know her. She’s not even in my team. She just sits a few cubicles away from me. That’s all. What if she is not interested?”
“You won’t know until you ask.”
“She always goes with her girl gang. I never get her alone.”
“Look. You have to find a way yourself.”
“This is not college. This is office for God’s sake. I’m afraid of the repercussions.”
“Is she showing some signs of interest? Or does she know at all?”
“I think she’s interested. She kept looking at me at the cafe during lunch today, but I can’t be sure, as there are hundreds of people in cafe during lunch time and she might be looking at anybody.”
“You better forget about her. You are such a coward.”
“I don’t deny that. But I’m happy just by looking at her.”

He doesn’t follow her, because he doesn’t believe in those concepts he sees in movies.
Moreover, he doesn’t want to force love out of her.
How the hell will he get to talk to her?
He doesn’t care. All he cares about is that he loves her. Or he thinks he does.
This really is perplexing because he never was shy towards girls or had any problem in talking with girls.

He is still in the starting line of the race with time. But he says races like this are not meant to be won.
Is this really love? I’m at a loss to answer.

I’m back with another post so soon! *BROAD GRIN*
Honestly, I thought that the chances of India winning the Cricket world cup was more than me posting once in a month. Thanks to some amazing blue-shirted superhumans (or subhumans), I’ll never ever have the doubt again.

I’ve been thinking about my blog of late. I realized that I’m confused about what to write. In fact, the only fact which I’m not confused about is that I’m confused about everything else. I was confused from the moment I created the punchline for my blog. That’s evident from the punchline itself. It’s always been cerebrations from my confounded mind. It’s always evoked laughter; either it was funny or it was so silly that you laughed at my plight. The only difference in the latter case was that the readers laughed away as they unsubscribed me from their feed reader thinking that this blog was a pile of crap. Because I see a steady dip in my readership of late. I think it is a vicious circle. A dip in readership makes me diffident and I don’t post often. That results in a further dip in reader count.
Anyway, instead of whining about this, I’ll write about something better.

The post actually starts here!
I remember I promised about several movie reviews long back. I’m afraid that’s not gonna happen. (Go on! I don’t mind you heaving a sigh of relief!)
It’s actually going to be about another movie (no..not a review), and how it reminded me of my childhood.
The movie is Bridge to Terabithia
When it was released, I tried to get tickets for that in PVR once, but they were sold out. Later, several of my friends said that it was pathetic and not worth watching. But being an avid lover of fantasy that I am, I couldn’t say no to a free show of the film yesterday.
My immediate response after the movie was over (It was just 1.5 hours) was “Yaaaawn!”
The movie indeed was not that good.
But all our senses are so deceptive. I couldn’t help thinking about the movie after watching it.
Then I started realizing that there was something different in the movie.
It is not the normal movie-ish story. Our mind is so corrupt that we expect stereotypes in “good movies”. And stereotypes are exactly what is missing in this movie. Even the bullies are not stereotypical.

The movie, simply put, asks you to keep an open mind and imagine…imagine as much as you can. It tells you that you can weave fantasy too. The way Lesley and Jesse imagine things up… I suddenly remembered all the fantasy which I created when I was a kid. I used to go to my dad’s ancestral house for summer vacations. It was a rural area with lots of paddy fields and more macadamized roads than asphalted ones. My grandmother and uncles used to live in the house which was surrounded by trees for about a mile in all directions. All were our land, with cultivation in a part of the land. I used to love the uncultivated land, because it was the best one to explore.

The protagonists in Terabithia swing across a river to woods, where their imaginary land of Terabithia starts. They have all wonderful creatures out there including a giant troll. (which, by the way, are an important ingredient in any fantasy! Sigh! I had enough of trolls)

Even I had a treehouse constructed atop a mango tree in my Terabithia. Although I didn’t imagine trolls and all, I imagined myself to be living atop trees (Don’t get the wrong idea now. I’m still human!)
My treehouse was a kind of outpost made of sheets of wood perched on the mango tree. There were multiple entries (I took a cue from the hideout of the Three Investigators). My uncle had made rope ladders with knots, or you could use the plain old way through the tree trunk. I even had ropes to swing like Tarzan. It was real fun. Everyday, I would climb the tree to my outpost and consider myself to be the guardian of the jungle, keeping vigil on everything around. My company was a small kitten whose name I don’t remember now. I used to make stories where little animals used to come to me with grievances and I, being a good ruler, give proper judgments and advices. I even used to invite my little brother atop, posing as a doctor treating his ailments. Everything was complete…even the background music which I hummed myself when I did something kingly.

I miss those days. This movie made me miss those days, which were forgotten till yesterday. It brought about a sense of nostalgia into me. The movie was not good from a reviewer’s perspective, but it was good from my perspective. It was a touching story.

I wish I had some good friend like Lesley in my childhood. I fell in love with Lesley and her Terabithia.

The Saturday evening was special. (I mean last Saturday. I’m fully aware that it’s been one week, but I should have some stupid thing to write, shouldn’t I?)
We were meeting Moideen.
Now you might be thinking who the hell Moideen is.
Moideen is the nickname that we (my college music troupe) had given to Iron Maiden.
(I’m sorry if non-mallus don’t understand this joke; can’t help it.)
Talk about a college which considers PJ as a religion and talk about people who live and play rock and metal in that college; the naming conventions don’t come as a surprise.

We had one “Ikka” too.. Metallica. ( )

Anyway, jokes apart, we went to the maiden concert of Iron Maiden (Or “the lass made of steel” ) in India. The day was Saturday… last Saturday (Sigh! Still suffering from the hangover of a viewing Casino Royale yesterday!)
Whatever happened at the concert was as interesting as the concert itself! And it was another memorable day in my life.

Three of us had booked tickets together. KP had got his tickets booked by his colleagues. He doesn’t waste time for trifles like booking tickets. Think about this: He will go to his native place only if we take tickets for him and we drop him near the bus station.

Anyway, the three of us (me, Jaadu and Chekkoli) were planning to go in my car. The other two were supposed to arrive at my house. But it turned out to be one more. KP too came with them. I had a suspicion, that KP had just remembered that the concert was on Saturday when the other two were about to leave. (KP denies it outright, but judging by his nature, this is what might have happened.)
So it turned out that I hadn’t yet paid for my ticket, but had a sure entrance, and KP had paid for the ticket, but didn’t have a sure entrance. (How the hell would he find his colleagues in the human ocean? Only he knew.)

After driving my car at sub-zero speeds (You might be wondering, but it happens in Bangalore at peak traffic time), we finally reached Palace Grounds. KP part ways with us and went in search of his colleagues.

The horse he sweats with fear we break to run
The mighty roar of the Russian guns

We entered. Jaadu was a bit nervous about his hidden digicam. Anyway he managed to steal his digicam inside. They frisked, but didn’t find the camera. We were welcomed by the din inside. Lauren Harris (the daughter of Steve Harris) was performing. Iron Maiden was yet to start their performance. Lauren was pathetic to the point where we didn’t even listen to her.

We hurdle bodies that lay on the ground
And the Russians fire another round
We get so near yet so far away
We won’t live to fight another day.

It was time for doing a Trooper. We had to move forward through endless hurdles; hundreds of people who too were devising strategies of moving forward. We kept inching forward throughout the concert. All we could do was move 10 meters in 2 and a half hours. We got so near yet so far away.

The smell of acrid smoke and horses breath
As I plunge on into certain death.

People to the left of me were smoking. I hated the acrid smell. It was smelling odd. It might have been marijuana. I don’t know. I even hate the smell of cigarettes. This was awful. But I had to live with that bit of passive smoking
There was this white guy near us. There was another boy gang nearby too. Looked like they were students. So this white guy asked all of us whether we drink whiskey. Several of them answered yes in unison. (I didn’t) Then he conjured a bottle of Imperial Blue Whiskey out of thin air (Not thin air, in fact. He had hidden it in his socks.)
It was finished in no time.

The Bugle sounds and the charge begins
But on this battlefield no one wins

Soon it started. Explosive is the word. I don’t find another way to address the atmosphere. They played all the local favorites, Fear of the dark, The Trooper, Number of the Beast. But I was too sad they didn’t play Waster Years and Clairvoyant. The sets were amazing. I’m not describing more because I don’t have words to describe them.

Fire on the hair
As we were pushing forward through the crowd, we reached behind another guy with huge locks of hair. I immediately named him “”Jataayu” because he had huge amounts of “Jata” (dreadlocks). As usual, we teamed up with some unknown Indians who were standing nearby and even conspired to set fire to his hair with a lighter.

You’ll take my life but I’ll take yours too
You’ll fire your musket but I’ll run you through

What’s it with girls in cars almost hitting me?
This has not happened once or twice. It has happened three times. A car almost hits me, and it will invariably be a pretty girl driving.
Is it that all pretty girls don’t know proper driving?
It was no different this time too as we were leaving. I was walking through the crowd of four wheelers (which were hurrying to the exit) towards my parked car, when my shin almost got flattened between two cars.

We get so close near enough to fight
When a Russian gets me in his sights

I met an old friend by surprise while leaving. He’s the only one guy I know of who would fly from Calcutta to Bangalore to see this show. That’s Vinu. (Don’t bother to visit the link. He only posts once a year.) He was the kind of guy who’d splurge. (On second thought, Pavanaayi beats him at that. What’s your opinion, Sanju?) We had a lot of time to chat, because the exit was jammed for about 30 minutes. After that, we part ways.

And as I lay there gazing at the sky
My body’s numb and my throat is dry
And as I lay forgotten and alone
Without a tear I draw my parting groan.

The first thing I noticed after I came back to the real world; I was dead thirsty. We went straight to Cafe Coffee Day. They were closing, but they got afraid when I flexed my muscles, and gave us whatever we ordered. Then I dropped Justin and Chekkoli, and went home. India was in a pathetic situation. I thought… It was a wise decision to go to the concert than watch cricket.

I had never seen the last season of “Friends” completely, albeit being a big fan of the series. The stupid jokes of Chandler, the I-want-a-girl-on-a-bread ideal of Joey, mental-case Monica, kinky Phoebe, confused Ross and “daddy’s girl” Rachel. All were so unique and so together.

I saw the entire last season on DVD last weekend. And now I wish I hadn’t seen that. Not because it didn’t make me laugh, but because it made me cry. It turned out to be a “sitcry” for me rather than a sitcom.
I just couldn’t bear the six energetic friends separating, because they were running after their own lives. I couldn’t bear to see the helplessness of Joey towards the few last episodes. Reminded me of the scene in “Dil Chahta Hai” where Saif Ali Khan looks helpless when his friends part their ways.
I broke down into tears. (And I’m not embarrassed to say that!)

There are some things in this world which are very important. Friendship, bravery, courage to face any obstacles in life. Family and friends are very important for me. Perhaps, that’s why I cried.

I’ve had lots of “friends” (My mom reckons its a truckload), ‘had’ with emphasis, because I’m not in touch with several of them.
Why did this happen?
Was something wrong with me?
I contemplated. I asked my own mind.
Was there a problem with me?
I didn’t think so. There wasn’t. The problem was with everybody.

I would do most things for my friends. “Anything” would a hyperbole. I am yet to find a human being who is 0% self-centered.
That was the problem!
The answer was already known. There are no unassuming people in this world. At least, none that I’ve met. (Of course you have to exclude your immediate family; they may be unassuming towards you, but not to an outsider.) People (including me) consider their own benefits before even thinking about anything else.

I am not trying to preach here; but I keep on thinking about these things every now and then. Maybe a tad of selfishness is necessary in today’s world. I’m not here to debate that. But I think we are missing something in the rat race for a better career and caring about self.

Can I live without friends? Answer is an absolute NO.

I know I haven’t posted in ages and I’m really sorry. I promise that there will be one in a couple of days.

Until then, keep laughing at this joke. This is a real “own-goal” cracked one of my friends under the influence of alcohol I think it will be a classic.

DAT: I am Don Corleone.

KP (with an expression of superiority and pride in his face, jumps the gun) : I am Michael Corleone.

DAT: Well, Hello, my dear son.

[Everyone else roll with peals of laughter]
[After some time KP realises what the laughter was for]

KP: Oh Shit. Bloody f***

I know I haven’t blogged for a long long time, and I’ve lost half my readers. But I was busy with work…honest!!
Well. Now I’m back in India…without a paisa, with torn sandals and with a lot of headweight.

A few extra pounds
The woes started even before I reached India. I was royally pissed off right from the moment I started packing for my return. After I finished packing, the new rule about the liquid/gel/aerosol came into effect. That warranted some repacking. (Not because I was carrying liquid explosives or anything ) After several grueling hours and trying all combos, I was finally able to pack some stuff. I mean, the challenge was real and tough.

1. No liquid items in Cabin baggage. Most of the high-density items (heavy but less in size) were liquids, conditioners et al.)
2. Check-in weight limit is 50 pounds.
3. Cabin baggage is too small in size.

The results were:
- My check-in bags were exactly 50 pounds, but had lot of free space.
- My cabin strolley was literally stuffed with maximum items, but still underweight. (like me )
- Same was the case with my backpack.
- I had to return back two packets to their owners. I said I can't deliver them to India, use FedEx!! They said, FedEx gets washed away like it did with Chuck Noland in "CastAway".
- I had to ask my colleague, who is coming next week to carry one of my own items.

Around the airport in 80 minutes
Well. If you thought that was all, here’s more.
I reached O’Hare airport and checked in (to my relief, my baggages were exactly 50 and 50.5 pounds each. I was a bit doubtful about the rusty balance which I used back in my hotel room.)

Check-in finished…Security check also went through fairly smooth, except that they asked me to remove every single item in my pocket. ( The next thing that’s gonna happen is these psychopathic jehadis making an explosive from cotton, and passengers being asked to travel naked.) I went towards the gate. Went into the lounge…(What can I say.. This was about the only thing that was good in my journey.. I travelled in First Class.)

I started recalling the check-in process. It took a moment for that blow to strike my mind. Then it struck lethally. It was horror..It was insanity. I frantically checked my passport.
The I-94 stamping…
My colleague said that I needed the I-94 stamped when I was departing from US, otherwise I would get some royal treatment from immigration department when I come back next time…
It was not there.
I went and asked the American Airlines officials near the boarding gate. They said something silly which didn’t convince me. They asked me to go to the check-in counter to be sure. I went all the way back. At the check-in counter, an official didn’t allow me into the check-in desk. He said, the immigration things are to be handled by the immigration dept and they are in terminal 5. I had to catch the Airport Transit train and go there.
I met an officer there; she was a kind lady. She said there was no process in place to get it done from them, not for Indians. She explained that this is probably taken care of during check-in.
I went back to terminal 3, and this time managed to sneak inside the check-in queue and to the desk. The lady there explained everything to me. There was no stamping required in my passport. The I-94, which was now detached from my passport and reattached to my boarding pass, would be collected at the boarding gate. There will be Home Security officials to scan my Visa at the boarding gate. I can go to the gate without an worries.
I asked the questions again and again, just to be sure. The lady kept her cool anyway.
I was relieved… so much that the entire security check process, which I had to go thru again, was not that annoying.

So I went back to the lounge. The lady at the lounge reception, Sandi Dukach, (I had told her my issue, just before running out like a crazy man) asked if everything was in place. I told her the problems I had to go through.
She said, “Better be sure than be sorry.”
Exhausted after the end of the race, I replied, “Yeah!”

I was lucky that I had checked in well ahead of time, otherwise I would not have found time for this race.
Oh..I remember the name of the receptionist because she has a striking resemblance to actress Susan Sarandon, a fact that I told her too.

Insomnia
Back in Delhi, I checked in at Hyatt. No woes with the customs, luckily. I was planning to check out at 4.45, since my flight was at 6.35 am. So I scheduled a wake-up call at 4 am.

In the night, I was bitten by the insomnia bug, because of jet lag. I kept waking up at regular intervals of 15 minutes or so. Then there was a huge gap, after which I woke up. I checked my watch, it was showing 4.15. So much for these junkies. They don’t even give a wake-up call properly. I took a quick shower, then I called and said I would be checking out in 15 minutes.
Then I called my taxi-wallah, and asked him to come in about 20-25 minutes. He was perplexed, “At this time? But your flight is at 6.35, right?”
I checked my watch. It was showing 4.35.. But PM, not AM. The goddamn watch was still in World Time mode and was showing the time in Chicago. Actually, it was only 3.05 am in India. I apologized to the driver for disturbing him in the middle of night. Then called the receptionist and apologized to her as well, saying I lost sense of time.

Then I killed time by watching some Spanish movie (Do I know Spanish?) in TV till 4.45, then checked out.

The Joy of Flying
In Delhi domestic airport, I encountered another problem. Jet airways allowed only 30 kgs total check-in allowance. I started arguing. I took a connecting flight and my baggage weight is as per international norms. How am I supposed to rearrange the contents during transit! This was ridiculous. I refused to pay any extra amount for my baggage. I tried to convince the lady at the check-in counter. And I was successful, thanks to my charm and ability in wooing girls. (Ahem! Ahem!) She finally said she’ll waive the excess luggage because it was me. (Oops..because I was a business class traveler)

Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani
For the sake of my readers who don’t know Hindi: the title means “Still my heart is Indian”

I reached Bangalore at long last, had a good sleep. When I woke up in the evening, I was really hungry. Moreover, my “headweight” was because of 3 months of no haircuts.
I decided to go to the salon and then to a restaurant. But my sandals were torn. I had to wear shoes just to walk about 20 meters. When I reached the barbershop, I realised that I had no money. (Indian Rupee, that is) So I decided to walk towards the nearest ATM. (My car was in my friends’ house) I walked all the way only to find the ATM was out of order.
So I came back, didn’t have a haircut, didn’t go to the restaurant and thought about ways to use my credit card. I called Pizza Hut, ordered a pizza. It is a pity that they have stopped Potato Wedges. That was one of the best things there. After eating my pizza, I tried to sleep…But I couldn’t…It was 12 AM you know!!!

I don’t go looking for trouble…Trouble usually finds me

This time trouble found me at O’Hare International Airport, supposed to be the busiest airport in the world.

I could say why.. 4 domestic and 1 international terminal. About 40 boarding gates per terminal. One flight taking off or landing every 42 seconds! PHEW!

As I’m very interested in figures, I’ll add some more.

Crowd - overwhelming
Flights cancelled on Thursday evening - 63. (Did you see it right? It’s sixty-three)

I was about to go to Sacramento, CA, on Thursday. I took lots of effort to reach O’Hare airport that day.

After pushing my way through the crowd, I finally reached gate B1. I stood near B1 for another 1 hour, simply because all the seats were occupied. I went to check the flight status one last time before it was time to board. To my horror, it was shown as cancelled.

I started to panic now. What to do? I was really looking forward to meeting my aunt and cousin after a long 5 years and to watch my cousin’s dance debut. I went to the United Airlines representative near the gate. She told me to contact the Customer Service Desk. I went back. The queue for the customer service center was one gigantic snake which didn’t seem to end. Anyway, I had to stay in the queue.

I started looking for other options. I tried to find out the number of UA, but couldn’t. I called my uncle, but there was nobody at home and his cell was not reachable. There was no other option. I had to wait in the queue.

After about half an hour my uncle called back after hearing my voice message. I explained the situation and asked him if he could get their number for me. He called them instead and looked for alternatives.

No seats available for Friday also. But Saturday was too late for me. So I decided to cancel my ticket and book another one with Southwest Airlines from Midway airport. Unfortunately (yeah…right!!), UA had no tie-up with Southwest, so they couldn’t process that. The very way the UA person talked was as if they didn’t give a fart about the plight of their passengers because this was a FAA directive. So I had to cancel my journey with UA and book anew with Southwest. My uncle did an online booking with southwest.

Now it was almost 2 hours since I’d been standing in the queue, and I was not even halfway through the queue.
As I was talking to my uncle, I got another distraction from behind. The lady who was standing just behind me suddenly screamed and threw her cellphone down. I literally jumped from my place and at first thought that it was because of me. Then she told me that the f***ing phone was drained…that too when she was in the middle of a call with UA representative. She was going to Pittsburg, which was also cancelled. It is okay to get frustrated. But throwing your expensive cell phone was too much.

Anyway, my uncle was able to cancel my UA ticket online, and because I had no checked in baggage, I was able to quit the queue and go back home. I took a taxi. Reached hotel at around 12 am. Slept. Woke up at around 3 am. Drove to Midway airport. 3 hours sleep and no dinner/breakfast. That was a real bad experience.

Luckily, I had a stopover at LA airport. I had my usual veggie sandwich/French Fries/Coke at a McDonalds there.

Reached here finally. Will write about the rest in the next post.