En Route to San Jose

I begin to write this while on an American Airlines flight to Dallas, TX. Flight took off well on time, definitely not like the flights to/from anywhere close to The Big Apple. Saw on the news that most flights (international or domestic) have been delayed for close to 9-10hrs. Kind of reminds me of my flight to Mumbai, India last year, when I had to take a connecting flight from Newark to Mumbai by Continental, but could not do so as my Atlanta-Newark flight was delayed - weirdly enough, the delay was primarily due to on-ground fog at Atlanta.

Anyway, my longish wait at the Atlanta airport provided me the opportunity to participate in a few interesting conversations with fellow travellers. I wanted to highlight a particular one with a mechanic (well, I'm certain that was NOT his rank - he just mentioned Mechanical when I asked which division) in the US Army posted in Baghdad. While I am definitely not in favor (or favour, depending on which part of the world you are reading this from) of the invasion, it was very fascinating to hear his experiences as an on-ground personnel in the region. He spoke about rockets being fired at their base in Baghdad on Christmas Eve, and nonchalantly mentioned one guy getting injured. There was no doubt in his mind that war in the region was inevitable. While there was clear happiness that he was returning to Nebraska for the holidays, there was a tinge of sadness on learning recently that he was due to return to Baghdad a day after his birthday in May.

The Atlanta-Dallas leg of my journey to San Jose was well on time, with the flight offering various comforts such as a ridiculous cost for WiFi as well as general airline discourtesy. Contrary to my expectations, the passengers were not offered any in-flight meal (read as peanuts or pretzels) along with the customary solitary beverage (Coca Cola FTW!) and ice. Luckily for me though, unlike my usual stinginess, I had purchased (it almost hurts to even type that word out) some wonderful coffee at Starbucks along with an equally wonderful banana-walnut muffin that provided me sustenance during my day of starvation.

As we were approaching Dallas, our pilot announced the various connecting flights that passengers on the Atl-Dall leg had planned on taking, and along with the flights also mentioned the various gates that connecting-passengers needed to go to. Apparently, the DFT-SJC (Dallas Fort to San Jose) flight was to depart from Gate C25, with our ATL-DFT flight arriving at Gate C27. Under normal circumstances, as a close-to-starved passenger, you would be extremely pleased to know the departing gate beforehand, as well as the bonus piece of information that you have a near-non-existent travel distance.

But lo behold!

On arriving in Dallas, I found out (much to my dismay) that my flight was not boarding anywhere close to C25. Heck, it was not even in Terminal C. I had to travel all the way up to Terminal A, Gate 20. Luckily, however, as with most airports (I'm guessing) in the US, all terminals are very well connected through a train service within the airport premises. The train in Dallas Fort is very well-organized with two trains circling the four airport terminals - one in the clockwise direction and the other in an anticlockwise one. But still, I wish I had been given fair warning from the beginning.

While waiting to board the aircraft, I received an email from my roommate, Sarath. The email merely had a subject line to it (understandably, a Bill Monk email soon followed). Electricity bill for the month of December: $430. What the f@#$???!!! That amounted to around $155 per head (including the Internet bill, of course, I'm a Georgia Tech graduate - my Math HAS to be awesome), just for the month of December. I mean, What the f@#$?! It was painful enough to go through the entire month with poor insulation and even more miserable heating, and to be saddled with a bomb for an electricity bill. Not fun. And most certainly not fun to see that before an awesome trip to California!

Armed with another muffin to provide me sustenance on a close-to-four-hour journey to San Jose, I proceeded on to the gate of departure, boarded the flight, and snoozed my way to glory. Frickin' four hours to do pretty much nothing. Apart from drink the complimentary beverage on a fairly cramped aircraft. And of course, bemoan that cursed electricity bill.

I feel I whine too much.

Morning of graduation...

All,

I begin this after Varun Murthy (my current room-mate) has just commented on my Facebook status (one of the million status "cribbings" of mine), but you guys will see it on the morning of or the morning after the grad ceremony. I first thought of posting something about my grad days - something along the lines of the famous (or rather not so famous, considering that my reader base was an appalling five, including yours truly) Google Docs "thingy" that I had started last year, but failed to finish.

However, I felt that the following would make more sense than filling up a few kilo or mega bytes in the Google servers with student ramblings (the ramblings will come soon though).

In this first post (after a hiatus of three years), I will try to make a feeble attempt at keeping the viewer(s) of this blog follow me for the lifetime of the same, of course, in the hope that it lives longer than a fruit-fly.

The first few readers of this blog are, in all likelihood, family and friends. People that I must have invited, requested, emotionally blackmailed, begged, pleaded and possibly even bribed. Yes, you heard that right. Bribed. With money. Those awesome pieces of paper with either a Mr. Lincoln or a Mr. Franklin or the Mahatma on one of its sides. Although, those who know me well will know that I am too kanjoos and "cheap" to part with these "awesome pieces of paper".

Rs. 176,000,000,000,000. The figure splashed across the headlines of Indian newspapers over the past three-four weeks. When you put in the zeroes, the numbers seem to be terrifying. Although, I guess if you start bandying about "1.76 lakh crores", it still seems unfathomably massive. Anyway, to the ignorant, that is the amount that the exchequer has lost in the 2G scam and, more importantly, shame on you for not keeping track of the news.

Prior to this, Adarsh Nagar happened.

Scam. The buzzword over the past six months or so. It started with the Commonwealth Games. The Games that was to highlight India's glory to the world. The Games that was projected to signify India's coming of age. The Games that was headed by an ex-IAF pilot. (@ Prateek Sharma: If you are reading this, I bet you would have said "Pata hai"). I believe we will be bidding for the Olympic Games. Well, duh!

Five months. Three major scams.

This is not including the bribes to traffic cops (pandu havaldars), Government babus, etc. and black money involved in real-estate and tax evasion.

As a desi graduating from a Masters program in the Land of Opportunity, I wonder if there is hope left back home. A number of my erstwhile colleagues from University of Mumbai landed in the US for their respective graduate programs. How many plan on returning home? How many talk of returning home? How many are honest enough to talk of never wanting to go back to the land where you need to bribe the local telephone exchange for a connection, the land where you walk through slums to reach your Antilia, the land where you get paid a measly Rs. 8 lakhs as a graduate student from the US, the land where you are a citizen, can vote (that you still don't is a debate for another day) and not a foreigner stealing jobs, the land where your roots lie, the land where you get bhel puri, paav bhaaji, and what not at 3am?

On that thought, I take your leave.

Until my next,

Aditya