The week that wasn't

A chronological account of a few 'very interesting' days:

July 24th -
The time is 0001 hrs. I look forward to my Hyderabad trip and have an early morning flight to catch courtesy Go-Air. The trip is an official one as part of our induction process and there are around 50 of us making the trip from Mumbai to Hyderabad. Much to my dismay, I find out that I have been booked on IC (Indian Airlines) for the return leg. My dismay turns into anguish when I realise that I am amongst the 'fortunate few' who wasn't to get an opportunity to fly on Kingfisher during the round trip. One of my friends calls on me to rub it in at this late hour.

My dad is out of station and hence I place three alarms along the sides of my head and manage to wake up when the first rings. I am on top of the world when I leave my house and get abused by a taxi-driver when I attempt to wake him up. I sombre down and finally get a cab to reach the airport. My friends already start taunting me at this early hour and I rub salt into my own wound by complaining. My friends, X & Y, who incidentally are on Kingfisher are a big pain. Two stewards welcome me on board and there is no breakfast on offer- facts not missed by X & Y. If only they had been this alert every morning of their lives, they would have already gone a long way. I sleep well all my flight and make a naively unconvincing attempt to force upon the point that Go-Air is a better flight to travel on when you are looking for sleep.

My attire at this point of time is a mix of what a wacky Yankee and a hippie Indian would wear at night. I am in shorts which pass off as three-fourths as we reach the spanking hotel. I am led by the hostel staff to a place which I presume to be my room and much to my consternation, I find that I am in an auditorium with one of the heads of the organization I work for addressing us. I have half an urge to turn back and run for cover (literally), but I realise that most eyes are already fixed on this 'interesting guy' and sensibly, take a seat. I try to make my legs conspicuous by their absence and cover them with as many chairs as possible. People who know me well would concur with me when I say that there are more sightings of the blue moon than my getting angry, but at that point of time, I was seething. Being a GreenPeace activist, I feel compelled to attend the call of nature in between and slowly my inhibitions disappear and legs start to appear.

I don't think I have anticipated any moment in life as much as I did lunch that day for it gave me an opportunity to change. Kidding aside, it isn't a lot of fun turning up wearing beach attire at a plenary with the top executives of your organisation- which prides itself on etiquette- addressing you. I spend the rest of the day responding to various queries regarding my dressing sense. I feel like a celebrity addressing the media regarding a fashion faux-pas, the likes of which haven't been heard of since Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction at the Superbowl a couple of years back.

I liberate myself at the late-night party though I still find myself justifying why a three-fourths extends only till your knee.



July 25th:
The time is 0001 hrs. Am pool-side when a foreigner comes up and pulls his weight around. "I guess the sun has gone down and it is not a great time to get a tan. Better off indoors", he tells me. I feel like boxing him on his ears but realise that am thoroughly outnumbered and take recourse to keeping calm. Retire to my room where my roommate tries to do his best impersonation of the Titanic 'hands on misty glass inside the car scene'. I wouldn't have minded it but the only problem is that he is inside the bathroom and makes some some weird sounds to boot.

I am woken up by the same sounds, the same window-panes and the same hands. Things are not helped when I realise that my mate seems to be deriving great pleasure out of his actions . I get an urge to check out quickly but still manage to reach my session late. As punishment, I am asked to do a duet with another sinner where I go down on my knees and feel thoroughly miffed. I don't leave the room during any of the breaks for fear of being late. A day for gayish pursuits indeed!

I start feeling more upbeat towards the end of the day and feel that my luck has changed for better. Take a good nap on the journey back to the airport. X & Y who are still my friends - and are on the IC flight- get themselves checked in and ask me to take a seat near theirs. Unsurprisingly, my request gets turned down and in keeping with times, I get a seat near the wash-room- an euphemism for a stinking toilet. I suspect that it is another prank on the part of X & Y.

Being hungry, I search for something to eat but I find the only thing costing less than a dollar to be pizza toppings. After much investigation, I buy a pizza at a cost that doesn't hurt my conscience much. I can't find a place to sit and my obsession for savouring the pizza lands me near X & Y, who are still my friends. And lo behold! I can only convey my sense of hunger after the pizza was devoured and leave the rest to the imagination of the reader, if at all there is one.

I sleep well again and get the shock of my life when I hear the pilot announce that we were 50 miles from Mumbai but were to keep circling for the next 90 minutes because of landing permissions. I am convinced that the plane would run out of fuel by then and rush down to the front just to confirm with my friends that what I had just heard wasn't just a figment of my imagination. My friends tell me that I wasn't dreaming but that is hardly relief and I go to sleep half-expecting not to wake up.

The flight lands thankfully at its destination but we are forced to wait another half an hour before descending from the plane and another 15 minutes before the bus arrives at the 'bus-stop'. The journey in the IC bus turns out to be marginally better than a ride on BEST and everybody is so mentally exhausted that nobody bothers taunting me again. I reach home uneventfully and say Amen!