Enough of beating around the bush. Let me come to the crux. It was 8th August 2008. Months of hard work of my parents was about to be realized. Son going to US for higher studies I guess is the only goal for many Indian parents. Don't know about them but I felt like an Indian girl leaving her parental home to go to her in-laws house after her wedding. Just exaggerating. But yes the feeling is something similar after your mother puts Band-Aids at your ankles because the new pair of shoes that you had brought bruises your ankles every time you wore them.
Apologies for some incorrect english and being a little drab. But that is how any other Indian aka Desi is out here. My flight to US was 6:45 a.m. 8th August. I left my childhood, teenage and adulthood home after seeking blessings of my grandparents. While Baba was half asleep when he said "khush raho". Oh my eyes are welling as I write this. My Dadi, who was always against my decision, came out in the slight shower to see me for the last time. Although I never liked her long wet kiss on my forehead, somehow that day I wanted it to go on forever. Finally I saw my mother, whom I used to call Amita when I was 2 or 3 years old, my Badi Chachi and my Taoji, who called me usatad, for the last time. I hoped into the Qualis along with my Dad and we set off. It was 2.30 in the morning.
As the taxi rolled out of the corner of my gali, I remembered that I had forgotten my wrist watch. Bad omen. The qualis turned back to our house, Taoji came out with my only wrist watch (for 5 years now. Average American marriage last for about 1 or 2 years. Great Achievement) . By the why the sardarji was pissed off.
The qualis moved at good speed towards the airport. It started raining heavily. Again bad omen, I thought. My Dad sat besides me. He gave me tips about how to manage my baggage, how to be cautious about your stuff at the airports and how to keep his dollars safe. Yes his dollars. I owe everything about this whole journey to him. He was the pushing force that got me where I am.
We reached IGI at 3:30 in the morning. I put my two 20 kg bags on the trolley along with my cabin bag. I put the back pack on my back and the waist pouch around my slightly thickened waist. It was the time when my final and the most important relation was about to be left behind. I shook hands with Papa and moved into the terminal. He just said "bye".
As I entered the queue, a lady asked me which airline I was traveling with. I said "Indian Airlines". She told me to go to terminal H. I checked up the ticket and told her that it was "Air India". She enquired "you sure? Go to terminal G". I am like that. I goof up sometimes.
I entered the airport and searched for terminal G. By the way I was travelling to Sate College in Pennsylvania, USA via London and Philadelphia. The first leg was Delhi-London by Air India. I entered a long queue of people mainly consisting of Desis, many other Indian students travelling to US and a small bunch of pissed-off British and Americans for baggage tagging and security check.
I kept a close eye on the weight meter for the tagged baggage. The weight limit is 23 kg, though they allow a little extra as well. I was relieved when I saw that my bags were 21 and 20 kilos. They tagged the baggages till State College and I felt good.
I came out for the last time to see my father. Papa is always very reassuring. The more I see him, the more confident I become. I always thought he loved my younger brother more than me but now I really feel that we exist mutually. This whole thing happened because I told him once that I wanted to go for higher studies. I never even bothered to schedule my GRE but he egged me on. This was his dream that he was realizing through me. This was his trip. And he just said "All the Best".
Back to the journey. I filled out an immigration form and got immigration clearance. The person at the immigration desk appeared very unfriendly. After all you don't find people friendly at 4:30 in the morning. But it was awkward. But that's the thing about all the Indians around the world. We are not very friendly to our own people. I jokingly thought his wife might be really tough nut for him.
Out of immigration. Now towards the hand baggage check. My cabin bag, my back pack and my waist pouch were all sent through some covered region. Unexpected the security guard told me that I had to open my cabin bag as there was something suspicious. I opened the bag and he took out two big boxes of medicines. He asked me what were theses medicines. I told him that these were routine medicines taken for travel purposes. Actually my Dad always packs me with medicines. He thinks I will get indigestion, viral and malaria at the same time. But I thought there was restriction about carrying the liquids. Meanwhile he called his senior pro and showed the boxes. The so called senior pro turned out to be an even bigger asshole. He said it was a case of narcotics. What the fuck? Headlines tomorrow "Passenger arrested for carrying Crocins, Brufen". I told him that these were normal medicines taken over the counter. The asshole again said that you not allowed to carry any. He then went through the medicines one by one. Crocin, Brufen, Dygien. I was stuck by the fact that he could at least read english. He then concluded the nothing looked like heroin or hashish so that he could book me and get credit for arresting a drug peddler. That was enough to send me in a tizzy.
I collected my stuff and proceeded to the waiting lounge near the departure gate in a daze. I am not mentally very tough and that was more than enough for me. I frantically called my father and my senior in State College. Both of them assured that everything would be fine. Meanwhile the gates opened and it was the time to board the flight.
As I proceeded to board the flight people from Air India checked my passport and boarding pass repeatedly. Finally I was in the air-craft. It was beautiful. Velvet covered seats, LCD for some entertain, Big TV screens, blankets and pillows. What not? The only low point was the absence of beautiful and sexy air-hostesses. Sorry, I am a true Delhite. They were middle aged, wrinkleful and fat.
Inside the plane it was cold. I mean if a Delhi guy says it was cold so it means it was cold. I opened my bag and wore the jacket. As I did that a lady pointed to her husband that I did something unusual. Both smiled and giggled. A little embarrassed, I smiled back at them.
The scheduled departure time was 6:45 a.m. But the plane stood at the run way for around 45 minutes. Finally it started to run at 7:30 a.m. I just freak out when a plane takes off. I cottoned my ears and closed my eyes. This was not my first flight. But I just hate these traveling by air. I don't know why.
My journey had began after all. I will write more of what happened in London.
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