While i wait to go home.

This time it was different. I was not going back to join office or for a project or for a training, nothing any sort of official work. It was all personal. Year 2013 I booked the apartment but till now I didn't own it. Builder and buyers were in agreement that registration process will be done only after it is handed over to buyers.

After two years of that scenario we were still waiting for the possession of the flat. Then it changed. I got a chance to travel back to India. Well, chance is not a correct word here; it was more or less planned. I was getting married. A month long holiday is nothing less than a dream come true for software professional who works on client location directly with the customer. But here I was on a four week long leave plan.

‘I am in India for 15 days. If possible can we opt for registration of the apartment’ was exactly my words to the executive sales manager for the company which is responsible of the project. I was assured of not getting any positive response as there were still six to seven more months in completion of the project and possession might take even longer. ‘Yes’ was the answer. Surprising as it was also it had added one more task to my ‘to do’ list in India before traveling back to US.

‘This is more important than a honeymoon trip’ suggested my just one week newly married wife. I was stumped already on her statement. Next day tickets were booked and I was all set to visit, once my base location for almost two year, city of migrants, city of Bangalore, which was now, called Benguluru.

It takes complete two days by train from my place to Bangalore. Since I had all the time in world I booked a train ticket. My roommate, who is married now offered me to stay with him but I preferred guesthouse provided by the builder which also included a cab to take me to places required to visit for the registration process, which included trips to banks, registration office, apartment location, company office and so on. Staying with friend would have prevented me from availing such a mouth watering offer, greedy I am.

If you have never registered a house or a plot before, believe me you will be tired as hell. Long queues, thousands of signatures, greedy eyes of government employees, bribes, long waits for authorized signatures, people everywhere but not on their desks and what not. Difficulty level of all these tasks increases by two points if you do not know the native language kannada.

Best part was the evening with my roommate, rain in month of March made already pleasant weather soothing and refreshing. And on to that I met another friend who was there with me in US. Small world it is, just two months back we were having lunch in Chicago and suddenly dinner in Bangalore. When we three came out of the lounge it was already 12:40. An evening well spent.

Next day was more queues, more signatures and more waits. And then the moment of joy came. 

‘Congratulations, you are now the owner of this apartment’ said the registrar. For me it was more like ‘Finally this horrible process is over’.

Now back to home. After two long years I will be spending the festival of colors at home. While I write this last line, I hear ‘boarding’ announcement for my flight to Lucknow. Can’t wait…happy holy.   

Holy White Elephant !!

This time it was out an out fun, completely different experience in comparison to my previous trip to New Jersey in US. Those were the time; I was new to the route, to the process, to the situations, to the culture and of course to the country. Unlike it, this time trip to Chicago was pleasant, enjoyable.

I looked at the queue and then to my passport. A person, who never thought that he would have a passport, now was actually using it. Connecting flight was after an hour so it was no rush, I was moving with the flow passing smiles to all the passerby’s. That is the good thing. You pass smile or can say a ‘hi’ to anyone and everyone, they will return back the courtesy but beware, don’t even try this in India for obvious reasons.

I had specially requested for an aisle seat as learning from my last experience, I don’t want my fallow travelers to know how many time I went to lavatory. Both the seats beside me were empty till now. I was praying for the situation to be same as only one seat in economy classes are not enough to carry so many things such as laptop, its charger, mobile charger, a pillow, headphones and of course yourself. So an empty seat beside you can work as a shipper for other stuffs.  But as they say we live in a limited world, soon both of the seats were occupied and to make it worse, the lady beside me got a butt twice the size of the space available at the seat, I felt like sharing half of my butt…oops I mean seat.

Once settled, I plugged the headphone and started watching ‘conjuring’, you see with so many people around I could afford to watch some horror.

A tap on the shoulder and I froze, even missed few beats too. This is what happens when you get too involved in a horror movie. ‘Can you ask for wine?’ lady beside me asked. Of course what harm can a small bottle of wine do? I thought. Soon a beautiful air hostess passed by and I asked for a bottle of wine, she was generous enough to turn back and bring me one and I passed it to the lady right away, you see sometimes even the smell of it can attract you to try it. Within few minutes same air hostess was standing beside me, ‘yes mam?’ she asked to the competition-to-one-of-the-healthiest-cow-types lady, ‘a wine please’. I turned to her, she winked, holy cow. Two bottles of wine can do something if not much. What if she gets drunk and fell on me? What if she gets high and puts a hand on me? Will I get a fracture? Or will I get crushed to death? I was still staring to her giant white round spherical arm; it looked like a big white…a big white…mmm a big white I don’t know may be a big white trunk, yes trunk of an elephant, I can’t think of anything else and slowly I was able to see the elephant drinking wine from its trunk. Yes, perfect.

One two three four five six and seven, she drank seven bottle of wine in whole journey. Swear to Jesus only I know how I was able to resist the temptation to have one myself. God himself came and shouted in my ears, port-of-entry-port-of-entry-port-of-entry, and yes every time thrice. Thank you port-of-entry I mean Thank You God.

‘Welcome again sir’ the guy around the glass said and printed a stamp on my passport. That’s it? I asked myself. Just for this ‘welcome again’ I left seven bottles of wine, or I should say seven bottles of FREE wine? Holy white elephant, disappointed I walked out of the lobby and in baggage collection area found my luggage lying on the ground like a dead man on an Indian soil, one more time, holy white elephant.

I walked out of the building. ‘kahan jana hai sir?’ someone asked me in Hindi. Damn, I so look like and Indian, I thought. The man was a taxi driver and of course an Indian. Journey was already at end. So just to make the climax exiting I asked the cab driver, ‘How much?’ and with his reply once again I got a chance to remember the fat butt lady as I shouted, ‘holy white elephant’…  

Mumbai !!

It has been more than two years now I have left the place, but it seems that it was just yesterday I was traveling in an overcrowded BEST bus struggling to get to the door, pushing everyone aside while my stop arrives, many a times I had missed the stop and had to get down at the next one and walk back.

It’s not that I was born and brought up in Mumbai, but yes I have been visiting it every year for my whole life, it was called Bombay back then. And when I joined college here, the city took me as if I was never an outsider; I was treated as its own. All those years of college and then a year of job made me a mumbaikar by heart and whenever I got a chance I travelled to the city.

But now, sitting in New Jersey, when someone asked today if I would like to settle down in Mumbai, my answer was ‘I don’t know’. I never thought of it. Heart was always in dilemma, whether I liked the city or I did not. Once a mumbaikar, always a mumbaikar, I used to hear this a lot in Mumbai. May be dilemma was the result of this saying.

The city definitely is different from others. It has its own aura. As soon as you enter the city, you can feel a blow of hot wind; your lungs will tell you that you started inhaling air which is heavier than outside the city air. It is so damn humid that your skin becomes advertisement of fevistick, extremely sticky. If you have never been to Mumbai, it will be difficult for you to believe this, but yes there is a particular smell of the air. Only place where the air itself has its own smell. A true mumbaikar can always identify the smell. Good or bad depends on many things, like how late you are for your office or how long you are stuck in the traffic while going back home or how you have run through a red signal and no traffic police has caught you.

I always wondered why my friends looked darker in the pictures they posted from the Gateway of India. But then I got to know the reason, they travelled on bike and the complexion was just a layer of carbon.  But then you are at Gateway so it doesn’t matter how much carbon is on your face and how much in your lungs.  You forget all those as soon as a huge waves from the sea hits the wall, you just feel like heaven. A ride on ferry to elephanta, especially if you are on the open deck, anyone hardly forgets.

One of my friends recently visited Girgaon Chawpaty with her husband and was telling about the romantic water fight between them. I was not able to control my laugh and said I have seen people pissing, vomiting and spitting on the same Girgaon chawpaty and not even that, every morning, nearby people use it as free public toilet. She said I will call you later, going for a bath. Well, so it happens.

You can see people running to get in the local train before the train has even hit the platform, so that they can get a window seat and catch up on their sleep. You can always hear lot of people shouting the same thing when the train stops, ‘let the people get down first’. A human wave gets out and other human wave gets in. leaving few inside, who wanted to get out and leaving few outside who wanted to get in. God forbid if you are traveling in peak hours, trains are so packed that your legs are not properly on ground, but you still find yourself standing, you feel someone trying to pick out your wallet but you cannot even move your ass to avoid it. But still millions of people board it and they don’t even complain about it. They say, if you have survived in Mumbai local trains, you can survive anywhere, I believe it.

From a sweating panipuriwala, whose sweat is an integral part of the panipuri, to a millionaire in an AC luxurious car, all you can find on the same signal. And surprisingly there would be more who will know the panipuriwala by his name, maybe the millionaire too. This is how it works. All are accepted, all are accumulated, like sugar in milk. But then if you look closely, none of them are selfless. They all are driven only by one thing, Money.

I am not saying that outside Mumbai people do not get driven by Money, they do, but in Mumbai it’s different. Money has taken place of God, highest priority in their life. An average Mumbaikar has stopped thinking beyond Money. Their only thought is how to earn money, more and more, and in the process they are slowly forgetting how to live. They are running so fast that they forgot they have left something behind, themselves.

Mumbai, in spite of its lack of emotions, its mechanical life, its money mindedness, its huge gap between poverty and luxury, its overcrowded population, its dangerously increasing temperature and pollution and many more its….I still find it attractive, and whenever someone asks about it, I say, ‘there is something about Mumbai…’

One of the day...

People everywhere, emotions everywhere, all kinds, laughter, tensions, excitement, nervousness, happy faces, grave faces, faces with all defined and undefined expressions; I could see all of them. Only face I could not see over there was mine, I knew what exactly I was feeling like but how it looks on my face was still to be unleashed. I was tired, after 19 hours of flight, I was excited, for being in totally new place, I was nervous, courtesy the stories of port of entry experiences, I was frustrated, as the line was moving so slow, I was eager, to call home and tell them I have reached. I still wanted to know how it looked on my face.

It took more than two hours to reach the glass window. The guy on the other side of the window was busy staring the photo on my passport; in between he would turn to me to match it. Finally he smiled and while handing my passport back he said, ‘welcome to America’. No questions asked, no answers given, I could see the reflection of myself in the glass and there was no sign of any emotion, in spite of all those feelings in my mind, I was still me. I took the passport back with a smile and next moment I was, searching my check-in luggage on the land of opportunities.

“Indian or Pakistani?’ cab driver asked while loading my baggage in the cab.

‘Does it matter?’

‘Not at all, just thought I would get an opportunity to speak hindi’ he said. I was happy to hear that. Rest of the conversation between me and Gurmail Singh was in Hindi. He was from Delhi, but settled here with his family, in fact he said he was more American as he has now spent almost twenty of his years in this country. I was eager to know more about the differences between the two countries and the answer he gave was totally satisfactory,

‘US is four times India and India four times US. Former regarding area, latter regarding population. This is what creates all the difference.’

Till the time I reached at my destination in New Jersey, day was already over. I don’t know how the day was, or maybe I know that whatever days i got, it was one of the day.

H1B Visa Stamping !!

Those three days…

Yes, three days. Recently US embassy has changed some rules so one has to take two appointments on two different days, one for biometric and other one for interview with the consulate. For me, I had to travel from Bangalore to Chennai, so extra day got add up.

Traveling to Chennai is always adventurous, especially if you do not understand or speak Tamil. I am saying adventurous, adventures can be dangerous too. 

Day 1

It was 24^th of October, Wednesday and people around the country were celebrating festival of Dussera, I was celebrating my sleep. 11:30 my cell phone started ringing, it was from my colleague who was also going for his visa stamping, fortunately we both got same interview dates to we thought of traveling together.

‘Bus is at 12:30 if you are done with your sleep’ his voice gave a hint of panic situation. And I replied with a sentence which acts as a panic controller ‘I am in my way’ it hardly took anytime to get ready, as I was already done with my packing, I just had to wrap myself.

‘What time the bus will reach?’ I asked the driver and in reply I got a weird silence. This was the first hint, that I was going to a foreign country called Chennai, where no one will answer unless until your question is in Tamil.

We have booked seat number R9, R10 a seabird traveler’s multi axle Volvo bus. All was well. It stopped at a nice restaurant for lunch and as the conductor has already told that it would stop only for twenty minutes, we had to literally throw the food in our mouth and had to run so it doesn’t leave us there. After a nice lunch and AC running to a temperature of 22 degree Celsius, one needs a nice cozy nap. But thanks to the conductor he put on a Tamil movie named ‘journey’ which was about a bus accident on the highway. Great stuff isn’t it? Especially if you are also in a bus running with a speed of 90 on a highway. I could see some people getting a shivering whenever our bus took a sharp turn or a sudden break, thanks to the movie.  

Finally we were on the great soil of Chennai, surrounded by at least seven auto drivers. Rather than talking to us they were talking or can say arguing with each other. Finally one of them won and turned to us and said something like ‘Enga ponga’ or enga pongana’ which he himself translated to ‘where going’ once he found a blank sheet expression stuck on our face. Before I could respond to it, my friend took out a sheet of pare and read the address and the next moment a number started echoing 300…300…300. Although Company was paying our expenses but it looked high enough. But every auto driver repeating same number left no choice but to stuff ourselves in one of those autos.

After struggling for half an hour we finally found the guest house. But this half an hour hunt caused fifty more rupees as the auto driver claimed he has burned more than 300 rupee gas, I believed him after he repeated the word ‘gas’ for 17 times.

   Rooms were already booked. So I just dumped my bag on the bed and ordered dinner. Next hour I was busy inspecting my documents and the cloths, which I had planned for the biometric, strictly formal. 

Day 2

I felt like I was in love, was having trouble with sleep, heart was not in control and body slow like an earthworm. It was already seven in the morning. My appointment was at 9 and I was ready to go at 8. This time the manager of the guest house helped me getting an auto with bargain of 160. And in few minutes I was in front of US embassy.

It was a normal building, same as an LIC office if you have seen one. A small gate with single security guard, was surrounded by a stream of people few in formals like me, few with families and kids, all having bunch of files and documents with them. I went and stood in the line, which was not moving till 8:30. At exactly 8:30 the security guy called and the line started moving rapidly and next moment I was at the gate in front of him. ‘Yours is at 9 you can wait few minutes’ he said politely and I was pleased. After entire 8:30 batch people were inside, we had to wait for at least twenty minutes and the guy called again. Here I was the first person from 9’ O clock batch to enter the campus. I have already seen the direction where people were headed. I took the same path, it lead me to stairs and after climbing twelve steps I was again part of a queue, some of the people from previous batch were still waiting for their turn. A fat lady in blue trousers and ping shirt appeared and started calling names form the sheet. As and when person’s name appeared he went and joined the line. Just when I started to doubt whether my name is there or not, she called me and next moment I was also a part of the line which was going into a chamber having a huge metal door.  

I entered the room to find people in same blue trousers and pink shirts all around. One of them took the documents, verified and handed me over with an extra pink colored piece of small paper with a number printed on it, they called it a token. Once I got the token I was directed to a hall room, with lots of chairs, it was like a waiting room of some railway station. Walls were connected through windows to many small small rooms and some people, in same uniform were sitting behind those windows. There was no digital screen to display the token numbers, instead one of those were calling out loud for the numbers. My number came and I was in front of a window.

‘Name and Date of Birth?’ the lady from the other side asked. Once she was satisfied that I was the correct guy she asked me to stand straight to take a picture from the camera which was hanging from the corner of the window. Then after taking finger print of all my fingers she wished me luck for the interview.

It was all done, I thought for such a small task they were wasting a complete day and also the trouble of asking two appointments, anyway, now it was time to complete the tasks which I was not able to do before, sleep. I woke up only to realize that the day was already over.

Opened the laptop just to find few mails and remaining day went working on those mails, thanks to my support project.   

          

Day 3

Morning 6’O clock, all alarms were yet to be shot. Interview was at 10:30 but you have to believe that I was ready for it before 8. Next one hour I spent just reading the news paper and sipping tea. Sharp 9 I was at the reception asking the manger to call for an auto. 60 rupees and I was in front of a building not very different form the one which I visited yesterday, just a bigger version and more than extra security, every few steps they very checking document, checking for electronic items or anything suspicious. i was already prepared, carrying just the files and myself. No mobile, no rings, no wallet, not even handkerchief, just few rupees which were sufficient to take me back to my hotel.

In the queue you can find almost complete India, families, brides, children, old parents, officials, managers, employees, tourists, almost all genres.  Once you are in, first thing will be to understand where to go, I asked one of the guy who was in same uniform and he directed me to a counter where the guy on the counter took out some bunch of papers from my bundle of documents and tied together in a separate bunch and handed me a printed paper written ‘N-07’, one more token. This time there were digital screen which were displaying the numbers and the window on which you have to report. I found an empty chair and dumped myself waiting for my number to be displayed.

I was again in a queue, this time the lady behind the window was not an Indian national, and again my fingerprints were taken and verified with the one which was taken yesterday. Now I was in final line, which was as big as a line in front of a government tap, just before the regular time of the water to flow from it.

All seems tensed; I was helplessly trying to control my own heartbeat. The queue took us to an adjacent building and at the gate a security guard started to send people in by count, sometimes ten in a row and sometimes just two. My turn came and I was in front of a huge metal door, it was heavy that in first attempt I was not able to open it. Across the door there was a similar hall room which gives a look of a waiting room of some railway station, full of people.

I got a chair to sit and started observing the procedure while keeping an eye on the display screen which was showing the token numbers and the window number on which your fate is going to be decided. Window 24 was just in front of me and looking at the guy on it I started praying that I should not get the same window. He was showing no emotions, and I noticed many of them were returning from that window with their passport, which is a sign that your visa has been rejected. But irony that my token number and the window number 24 aligned in the same row of the table which was being displayed on the screen.  I stood up and went in front of the window. A lady was already there and to my relief her visa got approved and she left the window smiling. My turn,

‘Hi’ he said without a smile.

‘Hello’

‘Can I have your documents?’

‘Sure’ I handed over the one which was separated and tied by the officer when I entered the embassy.

He checked the documents and turned to me with few generic questions, like.

‘What is your client name?’  ‘How much salary you will get?’ and ‘for how long you have been working for your current employer?’

Once he was satisfied with my communication skill, he said, ‘okay sir, I am approving your visa, you will get your passport within 3-4 working days.’ He finally smiled. I said thank you and left the window. That’s all.

Rest of the day went fine, in traveling and sharing experience with my family and also the friend whose visa too got approved. Cheers.

Mumbai Shirdi Aurangabad

I left for Mumbai on Thursday, there are lots of travel options for Mumbai from Bangalore, so it was no issue to book a ticket, just few clicks on redbus.com and a printout of the ticket was in my hands. It was National Travels bus. Sharp 7 in the evening their pickup bus came to madiwala and the journey started. In an hour we were at the main office of the National travels there a black colored shining multi-xl bus was waiting for us. I got in, seat number 31, a packet of chips and a packed bottle of drinking water was already waiting for me and within twenty minutes all seats were occupied. With a small jerk the bus started, two small ac windows started blowing chilled air on me and both the screens started playing movie Housefull2, total fun. I was going to Mumbai to meet my parents, they were there for next week, and for me it was easy to travel to Mumbai rather than going to my hometown which adds extra 2000 kilometers to be traveled. Bus stopped at some dhaba cum restaurant for dinner and after that the next stop was only in the morning for breakfast. I reached my destination, Mumbai, around 1:15 in the afternoon.

Plan was to spend Friday in Mumbai, Saturday in Pune with friends and travel back to Bangalore on Sunday. But who says a plan is always a success. My mother, on Friday, wished to visit Shirdi and I was like, why not? And next moment I was busy booking tickets. It was Neeta travels bus which cost five hundred per head; I booked three for the same night. Sharp 10 it left Mumbai, another movie ‘full and final’, a time pass movie. Saturday morning 5 we were in Shirdi and we were in front of a gang of agents surrounding us asking for hotels and lodges. We booked one for two hours as we were not planning to stay back. In an hour we were ready to visit the holy temple of lord Sai. Paths are very confusing if one is first time visitor. But security guards are helpful. No camera, mobile phones are allowed, so better keep it at the hotel. While taking puja materials beware of the costs, they can rip your pockets off. If they say take a costly flower garland as you will put in the idol from your own hands, forget it, the priest in the temple will not even touch the flowers to the idol, he will just swing in the air and give you back. There is no separate queue for ladies, but of course there are different routes to the main temple, so better stick together if you are in a group. One wrong diversion and you will end up in a completely different queue, then without mobile phones, you might end up meeting back only in the hotel room. It took around two hours in the queue, though people said, it was off season. After a small glimpse of few minutes we were thrown out of the temple by those security guards.

After a heavy breakfast in a nearby restaurant we were ready to travel back to Mumbai, but then we thought of visiting some nearby places as there was full day left. 

Aurangabad came to my mind, I have visited once with my friends, ellora caves, bibi ka makbara also called mini Tajmahal and Daultabad fort will be nice places to visit. After inquiry we came to know that there are frequent busses from Shirdi to Aurangabad, but as I was with family so thought of booking a cab which might be more comfortable. 1700 was told by the agent, they will show the places and take us back to shirdi. For 115 kilometers, it was reasonable. Meanwhile a gentleman came to me after listening to my inquiry session. They were too three in number and were headed to Aurangabad. So we booked an innova, which costs 2200, but after bargain we settled for 2000, and dived 1000 between us. Now we were total six in number. It took around two and a half hours and we were in front of mini Tajmahal, it is almost a copy of Tajmahal, but smaller in size. The cab driver also took us to sleeping Hanuman Temple and Ghaneshwar, which is one of the twelve Jyotirlings of Lord Shiva. As a custom, all the gents should remove their shirts and materials made of leather, before entering in the main temple. The priest said it is because we believe that to meet the Lord; we should at least behave like his Ganas. After this we headed to Daulatabad fort, but when we saw the height of it, we decided to skip it as it might take few hours and also will be very tiring, same impression was with other three also, so we left it and after having lunch just outside the main gate of Ellora caves, we entered the caves. They charge ten rupees ticket per head. Private vehicles are allowed inside and also can take you up to the caves. In total there are 36 caves, separated in groups of five or six. It can be very tiring if you wish to visit all by walking. So if you have come in public transport, better hire an auto, they charge fifty rupees per head and will take you to all the parts of caves. If you are really interested in history of the caves, hiring a guide will be a good idea, otherwise a general description is written in caves itself. If you wish to see each and every cave, it might take around 3 to 4 hours, cameras and handy cams are allowed and you can capture all the beauty of the location. The caves get closed by 5:30 in the evening, so one has to plan accordingly, as we were not able to visit the end caves due to lack of time. 

An amazing, exiting, but bit tiring trip has come to an end and we all headed back to Shirdi. I had already booked bus tickets to Mumbai at ten, and it was still 8:30 So we went to a separate campus where we can get special Ladu which is called the main prasad and also visited the museum which has a collection of items related to Sai baba.      

After a heavy dinner and a tiring journey booking a sleeper bus ticket was worth. We just slept as soon as we got into the bus. Five in the morning we were in Mumbai, back to home.

It was already Sunday and my visit to Pune was canceled already and it was time for me travel back to Bangalore, I had booked National travels Bus at two in the afternoon. Like earlier a packet of chips and drinking water was waiting for me and again I was at seat number 31, coincidence. This time three continuous movies, ‘once upon time in Mumbai’, ‘dil to bachcha hai ji’ and at last ‘Rowdy Rathore’. Sleeping in a semi sleeper seat is a pain, but somehow we all managed, we mean me and my co passengers. Finally at eight in the morning I was back to Bangalore, back to the point where I started, well we all know earth is round.