Just another Day!!

June 14th 2012

It was not particularly quiet that night. The loud noises of the sports cars kept waking me up. Either that or the random thoughts in my mind that I could not control. Stepping out on to the balcony at 1 ‘O’ clock in the night, I startled a few pegions who then flew away into the night. I could see the golden color of the street lights illuminating the entire landscape and amidst the trees was the Gate way of India. It stood there like it had nothing to do with me. Yes indeed but the sheer magnificence of the structure and what it stood for kept me engaged and more thoughts began to creep in. I was standing shirtless in the balcony of my room on the 6^th floor of the Andhra Pradesh Bhavan, Ashoka road, New Delhi.

Realising that my plan to stay awake till morning wasn’t going to work, I tried to keep myself awake with the help of some telugu cinema songs that played non stop on Gemini music and the news stories about Ram Charan’s wedding. I had to catch a flight at 6 in the morning and the cab would be here at 5 and I was there unable to decide whether to sleep or to be awake. I had no idea that the decision was not upto me. I dozed off, not sure when and woke up to some horrible dream only to realize that it was 4:45 a.m. since I already packed all my clothes and all that I had was my single back pack, it didn’t take long for me to freshen up and check out. After signing off at the reception and bidding good bye to that receptionist lady whom I became acquainted with, I stood outside the main gate waiting for the cab. The morning was silent and foggy. The smell I remember was of green leaves. Not sure if there is such a smell but that was what it felt like. I began to feel restless worrying about my flight when the driver called me up and informed me that he would be arriving at the main gate in a couple of minutes. I double checked if I packed the book that I was reading last night. The Fountainhead felt hard at the lower end of the back pack.

The driver promised that he would take me there on time. Air India flights are supposed to arrive/depart from terminal number 3. The seat felt cozy and I began to get comfortable only to realize how restless I was over the last three days. Since my interview (for admission at Jamia Millilia Islamia University) was over it had been a hectic schedule for a couple of days: trying to book train tickets, finding a suitable place to stay and most importantly, making sure I visit the historical places in delhi. Since getting train tickets then proved to be impossible, I finally decided to travel by air; for the first time. Yes, it was the first time I was going to board a flight. I was not frightened like most people told me but was not really excited as well. I was just hoping that I would not make a fool out of myself at the airport while checking in as I didn’t know how to actually “check-in.” the driver drove very fast trying to start a conversation when I slowly fell into my own thoughts ignoring him completely. The star hotels that I drove by made me think of the 26/11 attacks. The clean roads and the greenery reminded me of the days I was there in delhi with my family when I was 9 years old. I do have a vivid memory.

He did keep his promise. It took us exactly 18 minutes (that is what the digital clock in the car said) to reach the 3^rd terminal.

“Paisa usko de diya na sir??” he asked me when I stepped out of the cab.

“Ha. He said he’ll give it to you.” I didn’t have a good knowledge of Hindi. “550 hai na??” I asked him.

“Haa saab.”

“Ok then, thank you sir.” I closed the door and he smiled back and wished me a happy journey.

The checking in part was not that difficult or confusing. I did not have to ask any body for help and with in 15 minutes was all set to board the plane. The Indira Gandhi International airport was amazing. I walked around for a while looking at people. Old folk probably going for some medical check ups, couples young and full of life, well groomed gentlemen walking into the American Express exclusive lounge that reminded me of the classy George Clooney from “Up in the air”; and several others. I secretly hoped to find some movie stars ( all my friends told stories of how they met Rahman, ShahRukh and others) but there were none. Nevertheless the walk in the airport was pretty wonderful and watching the planes take position through the wall sized glasses felt good. I thought about the toy planes that I used to play with when I was a kid and then about the planes that vendors sell on the footpaths for ten rupees a piece.

The two hour flight from New Delhi to Hyderabad felt like 2 minutes. I was both fascinated and depressed. Fascinated, while watching the clouds appear like enormous balls of cotton beneath us and depressed because I did not get the seat next to the window. It was nonetheless a memorable experience and except for the awful tasting food and a malfunctioning inflight entertainment system, it was something worth remembering. Like always, I felt bad for not being able to fly like a bird. Few minutes before landing in Hyderabad, the trees, hills and buildings seemed exactly like the models that are used to be present in the architecture department when I was doing a course there back in college. The scene reminded me of my professor then and the girl that I used to have a crush on in that class.

The aeroexpress bus dropped me at the entrance of the Nehru outer ring-road from where I needed to go to BHEL where my brother would pick me up. As I was waiting for a seven-seater auto that would take me there, I realized how I just spent some 10 grand on a journey that hardly lasted 2 hours and now I am waiting for a vehicle that would charge me 8 rupees to drop me at BHEL. The great Indian middle class mind that I have amused me. Incidentally, I met a college friend (Harsha Vandini) while waiting there and after exchanging a few formal greetings and obligatory wishes, I got into a seven-seater and waved her good bye. My brother promptly picked me up on his motor cycle and we went to his room. It was around 9:30a.m then.

After lunch and a quick nap, I got ready for the next part of the journey. The Palnadu express arrived at the Lingampalli station right on time and departed along with me at 2:20p.m. I was alone once again, exactly how I liked it and this time I had my best travel companion, my iPod. For a while I began to think why I prefer listening to songs while travelling. May be it was because I don’t like to talk with people around me. I still have this notion that a heavy amount of meaningless political analysis ranging from Jagan to Telangana, happens in the general compartments of our trains. Not that it doesn’t exist but it is a little less in case of the AC compartments (that is what I observed). People make lousy statements without even trying to understand the difference between forming an opinion based on rational understanding and judging somebody based on prejudice. I had no interest to take part in such conversations and that is exactly why even today I try not to indulge in the mess. If I was forced to participate, I amuse myself by giving wrong details about myself. Just for fun. I once told a gentleman that I was a 12^th class student going to the inauguration of our new bakery in Vijayawada while I was studying engineering third year. It is just a way I amuse myself. I like doing it.

The long and tiring train journey ended at 9 p.m when the train finally stopped in the Guntur station. I was almost home but not yet. I wished all the best to the guy who managed to break into my shell and spoke with me for the last one hour about how engineering ruined his life. I tried sharing some of my views with him and told him that he is not going to gain anything by blaming the past. I told him that we are too young to start blaming life and that there so much to do. But I still wonder if he even understood me. Running out of the station I quickly got into a share auto and once again the great Indian middle class man that I am, amused me. After a few minutes of squishing in the auto, he dropped near the NTR bus terminal, Guntur. The Guntur bus stand is actually constructed so as to form the three letters N.T.R and it can be clearly seem in Google maps.

There were no non-stop buses there and I somehow felt that it was how it was supposed to be. I boarded a “Palle Velugu” bus that would take me to my home town “Tenali”. It was 9:30p.m and I was not even a little exhausted. I was in fact smiling; thinking about how my day started and where I have come now. I opened one of the windows and tried to stare out into the absolute darkness there engulfed the entire night. Even the lights inside the bus were switched off so as to allow the tired people to doze off. I could not sleep and began to look at the faces of all those around me. Some of them were clearly job holders who shuttle everyday between the two towns. Some were older people who most probably would get down in some village before we would reach Tenali. My iPod kept playing soothing Ilayaraaja’s music and not sure when, I too dozed off.

The buses from Guntur stopped at a junction which was hardly a few hundred yards from our house. I got down, still listening to Ilayaraaja’s music, slowly began walking home. I kept smiling with satisfaction about the fact that I travelled over 1800 kms via Cab –> Flight –> Aeroexpress Bus –> Seven Seater –> Motorcycle –> Train –> Auto –> Palle Velugu Bus and finally finishing the final few yards with the one means with which human beings proved to be better evolved than our primate cousins: on foot. ( A journey on a boat or something would have finished the entire list of various modes of transport that we studied in Social Studies) But more than that it was about the kind of freedom that is accompanied by absolute solitude. It had been a tiresome few days but the fact that I was alone and in my thoughts kept me running and even without regular food on time, I was able to manage because of curiosity that came out of the solitude. The familiar sound of the door bell was audible even from outside the house and my mother opened the door with the smile that meant a million words, but mostly: “You look like hell.”

P.s.. the trip was a success in a way as I was able to impress the panel of 10 people and managed to secure a seat in the post graduate programme.