The mother of all ROAD TRIP : Day 5

We were not able to see where we were stopping because of the rainstorm the night before. We basically saw a red roof inn on the side of the road and decided to stop. The next morning we woke up and realized we were in Idaho. There are no Idaho board pictures as proof, but well nobody is reading this anyways.

We looked at the map and decided to take the back roads. We were out of Idaho soon enough. And Oregon is B-E-A-U-T-F-U-L/ There was no remnants of angry dark clouds from the night before. It was a blue summer sky with endless dreamy white clouds floating around. The roads are what you imagine roadtrips roads to look like if you have watched as many 90's Hollywood feel good movies as I have.

Our destination was Portland (Tulatin for me to be more specific). But we decided to come through Detroit Lake National  Park. The way to  Detroit Lake National Park was what you can describe as backroads of backroads. The roads are barely two lane. If there is a big truck coming we had to literally pull up on the dirt road. About five hours into our drive, I had dozed off, and I woke up just feeling hot There was road construction of massive proportion happening on that tiny road which google failed to inform us about. We were stuck waiting behind a big line of cars and we were stuck there for hours. The weather in Oregon is hot and sticky.  We lost count of the number of hours we were stuck there. It was completely like my road trip in South Bengal. Ahhh memories!!

But we were finally able to get out of there and Detroit Lake. What can I say about Detroit Lake National Park apart from Americans need to name different geographical locations with different names. It is breathtaking beautiful. Driving through the pine tree laced winding roads is almost like going on a different kind of a trip. We stopped at a view point from where we could see Mt Bachelor way at the distance with it's snow capped peaks.

There are campgrounds all around this hidden waterbodies, where you can go to swim, to fish. STP declared that this is how he envisons heaven to be.

The city of Portland is awesome. It is to me the perfect culmination of liberal, artsy, hi-tech, nature and some old world charms. It is called the city of roses for good reasons. There are wild roses growing everywhere and the city is always bathed in the heady smell that only wild roses can give out. If by any chance I have to spend a substantial time of my life in this country I would like it to be spent in Portland. That is where I would like to settle.

I finally reached Tulatin. The first half of the epic road trip was over. I had come home to family. To Boro dada and Boudi.

The mother of all road trip : DAY FOUR

DAY four we wake up groggy eyed. It is really early as we prepare to leave Denver. While leaving the city you can see the vista of the downtown on one side and the snow-capped Rockies on the other side. We left so super early that there were hardly any cars on the road yet.

Once you leave the city borders of Denver and go towards Wyoming the scenary changes at every bend and it is truly breathtaking or as people in this generation likes to refer to it "instagram worthy".

For once we did have a destination. Teton National Park. We debated going to YellowStone National Park but then later decided that YellowStone will have to be a trip by itself. Wyoming is empty. When I say empty. I mean EMPTY. There is nothing anywhere around. Unlike the east coast there are no rest stops after every 30 mins. It is just wilderness. Raw and beautiful.

Finally after driving for hours we came across an almost broken gas station. But there were atleast 50 cars there. It looked like it was the only gas station for miles. As I entered the gas station, I saw on the left that there was a tiny designated room marked "PRAYER HALL / GURUDWARA". Surely enough that gas station in the middle of nowhere WYOMING was owned and operated by a Sikh family.  Along with the regular chips and sodas and candies they were also making " Aloo Paratha" in a corner. I was the only other Indian and I went upto them and asked them if I could buy one. They informed me that was for the family and not for sale. Seeing my dejected and hungry glances they just offered me one and said no payment was necessary. I was touched with their gesture. After that I went to use the restroom. I wish their compassion extended to the other guests using their facilities and they step up and clean the restrooms.

After a brunch of " Aloo Paratha" we were on our way again. We were driving at 100 miles an hour. And our windshield ended up being responsible for a million bug deaths. The white spots you see are not meteors, but bug guts.

The Grand Teton National Park is a national park(BIG SURPRISE) and the two major peaks are Teton Range and Jackson Hole. Words are not enough to describe this place in the middle of true cowboy country. It is pure, untouched, virgin. This is where peace lives. Nothing bad can ever happen here. It is where you fall silent and drink in the the grandness that nature has to offer. The few snaps in this blog does not do any justice to this place. We also got to see wild animals including wild buffaloes, deers, foxes and a moose.

We decided to have dinner at Jackson Hole town. It is the tourist spot and gentrified to appease the tourists and cater to them, what they would expect a cowboy town to look like. Although, I did have the best grilled salmon I have had ever in my life here.

When we left Jackson Hole we still had daytime. (Thank God for Summer). Then, however from nowhere a bunch of dark rainy clouds started floating in and covering up everything.

We were soon caught up in a crazy thunderstorm and had to make a stop for the night adding one more extra day to our epic road trip.

The mother of all road trips : Day 3

The next day we left Oakley Kansas a little late, around 9 am.  We knew we did not have a long drive as both of us wanted to spend atleast one night in Denver, Colorado. The drive was about 4 hrs. We decided to live lavishly and booked a Hilton for our stay.

As we were nearing the city limits we got the first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains way in the distance.

We reached Colorado by 1 PM. By rule no hotel lets you check in before 3 PM in this country. So the first stop on STP's request was a weed store. Weed is legal in Colorado and unlike California outsiders over the age of 21 are allowed to buy retail weed upto 1 ounce. Only registered weed shop are allowed to see these. And the shops atleast the ones that we went to, looked super edgy and cool. It had high end interior decorations, the best security 2017 has to offer, a bouncer at the door and super cool edgy sales people. A far FAR cry from how and where I have heard my friends buy their weed. There are variable options, multiple fusion, vapes, oils, chocolates, cookies, spreads, cake mixes apart from the actual weed leaves. Oh and yeah! Photography was prohibited inside the shops. I wonder if we, in India can do the same with bhang? It was a "heady" experience. Since STP dragged me to a marijuana shop, I dragged him to a NAIL salon and got my nails done. Sadly there was nothing special about that shop.

After our mini adventures, we checked in our hotel, dressed up for the first time in clothes which were not shorts and minion tshirts and headed out for DOWNTOWN !! We took the fast rail and decided to end the trip at the famous Union Train Station. The fast rail was easy, reliable, runs like every 10 minutes and I must say that the Denver Transport has a great sense of humour.

We hanged around the Union Transport Centre which originally was a train station and now houses some of the best local chocolates, milkshakes, food, art and is basically the focal point of downtown. There are complimentary buses that takes you on tours around the mall. Another fun thing to do is to climb the 13th step of the Capitol Hill and get a mile high. (It is exactly one mile above the sea-level.)

There are million other fun things to do around Denver and Denver downtown mostly free. It is however a very expensive city and it looks it. The Denver that I encountered was all high-end apartments and sparkling malls and corporate buildings, a very pretty downtown and some really aggressive homeless people. When we were lounging around Union Station we encountered the local police arrest a few very loud women.

We had dinner at this charming downtown Mongolian BBQ. It was my first time at a Mongolian BBQ. The food was great but the experience truly unique.

 

I ended the night with a boozy milkshake from MilkBox Ice Creamery(without realizing its boozy properties). But honestly if there is one thing you do in Denver, Colorado do the boozy milkshake. YUMM !!

The mother of all road trips : Day TWO

Day two started with leaving Louisville Kentucky and our aim was to drive 10 to 12 hours and get as further across Kansas as we possibly could.

We drove a couple of hours and stopped for breakfast at a Denny's. I was the only person of color there inside the Denny's. I am usually immune to racial differences around me but right then I realized that I was the only person of color I had seen for quite sometime. Although our server was super sweet to us, I was suddenly feeling uncomfortable. I was acutely aware of everyone just staring at me. I did feel like the alien the government insisted on calling me. I will not lie I was taking comfort that STP was white and with me. We finished our terrible breakfast and got out of there.

Soon we were out of Kentucky and going across the first major city St Louis, Missouri and crossing the mighty Mississippi.

Soon after crossing St Louis city parameters the scenery changed. It was so flat. Flat green grass, yellow corn fields and vast blue sky. This scenary was going to be with us almost till Denver. And no frequent restrooms, almost no cars on the road. For the first time I encountered not only a maximum speed but also a minimum speed limit on the highway and the minimum speed limit was 65. The maximum 80 and the slowest cars were driving at 90. It was a dream to drive down straight roads at 90 miles per hour with the cruise control on.

We decided to stop for lunch at Kansas City and get some of their famous bar-b-Que at Arthur Bryant's. There was a long line and the food was to put it nicely underwhelming. Also they fry their potatoes in peanut oil. Enough said.

Kansas City by the way is in Missouri and is not a city in Kansas. The city stretches forever. I tried to take a picture of the city from the car.
 

 

 

After Kansas City it was again the flat plains of mid-west USA. And then suddenly we found ourselves sorrounded by wind mills. It was almost surreal. These giant structures rising from the ground and stretched till as far as your eyes can see. They stretched for miles.

We were making good time and dare I say good mileage thanks to the straight flat roads. but suddenly without warning we got caught in a flash flood. It felt like driving through a waterfall. I was ready to park the car and wait but there were other cars which were also driving and emergency vehicles lining the road. It took up much of our time and having to fight the flash flood we decided to stop. But when you are in Kansas, it is literally the middle of nowhere. It is not possible to just stop. We had to drive for two more hours to find a place to stop and we stopped at Colby, Kansas. To give you an idea of what Colby Kansas is, here is a picture of the neighbourhood of our hotel. Just check the CINEMA house out.

Disclaimer : Apart from the Arthur Bryant poster all pictures have been taken from the car. Including the neighborhood picture.

The mother of all road trips : First Day

The first day was a long day of being on the road. We crossed the borders of Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia and Kentucky. We spent the night at Louisville Kentucky and paid a customary visit to the YUM Centre.

Most of the pictures that I am posting are unedited pictures taken from the car. I assume that since this is a road trip post series all pictures that shall be posted will be those from the car.

he day was uneventful. We moved across mostly rolling green fields with occasional farm lands. There were regular rest stops as we were driving mostly on the highways. Very similar to the road trips to Niagara or Illinois which I had done previously too. But the open blue sky and the clouds promised much more to come.

 

The mother of all road trips : Prelude

I have always been that person who travels or likes to travel. But all my travels have always followed a schedule. A schedule to go back to school, or go back to work. It always had a destination. Never had a journey. And I always dreamed of a trip like that. A trip where there are no destinations, no time limits, just sit in a car and drive, wherever you want to go.


Last to last week  on the 7th of June something rather unfortunate happened with work. Something that made my future in this country uncertain. It was uncertain to the point that I did not know if I had to leave by the end of the month. Although the prospect of going back home was appealing but I was hurt, disappointed, enraged about how things were being conducted, about how everything was unfair to say the least, how even when everyone at work openly acknowledged to what was happening to me was unfair still was not fighting the cause and reason for it, instead supporting it indirectly. Anyways I digress. What ended up happening was that I realized I had three weeks left in the country and for the first time ever I had no commitment. I had no deadlines, no project goals.I made a plan. I shared my plan with STP and he was onboard as soon as he heard it.

So I cleaned the apartment. Packed everything that could possible fit in my car, moved the bed, the dining table, the coffee table to STP's parents garage, donated the rest which took about 5 days and then the next morning got in the car, bought my last cup of wawa iced macchiato and was on my way.

 Destination : UNKNOWN.

"There was nowhere to go but everywhere,
  So just keep on rolling under the stars"
                                        -----Jack Kerouac

Philadelphia : Visson and Misson

Ofcourse the Vission and Misson are mine. And when it is my vision and mission it has to do with food. PhiilyMag has just come out with the top 50 restaurants of 2016 in Philadelphia. It does not have any of my favourites likes Stargazy, Stock, Era or  Kilimandjaro. And I have not been to any of these restaurants. So as part of my vision and misson in this year and my eternal quest to explore a city better I will embark on a journey of eating in as many of these places as I can . Anyways here is the list.



50 Best Restaurants in Philadelphia

•     Laurel, East Passyunk
•     Vernick Food & Drink, Rittenhouse
•     Fork, Old City
•     Vedge, Midtown Village
•     Townsend, East Passyunk
•     Vetri, Midtown Village
•     Sbraga, Center City
•     Bing Bing Dim Sum*, East Passyunk
•     Serpico, Bella Vista
•     Helm*, Kensington
•     Zahav, Society Hill
•     V Street*, Rittenhouse
•     Volver, Center City
•     Marigold Kitchen, University City
•     Cheu Noodle Bar, Washington Square West
•     Pumpkin, Grad Hospital
•     Will
•     East Passyunk
•     Bibou
•     Bella Vista
•     Fond
•     East Passyunk
•     Bud & Marilyn’s*
•     Midtown Village
•     Amis
•     Midtown Village
•     Zeppoli
•     Collingswood
•     Fitler Dining Room
•     Fitler Square
•     High Street on Market
•     Old City
•     Le Virtu
•     East Passyunk
•     Le Chéri
•     Rittenhouse
•     Russet
•     Center City
•     The Fat Ham
•     University City
•     Osteria
•     Spring Garden
•     Abe Fisher
•     Rittenhouse
•     Brigantessa*
•     East Passyunk
•     Heritage*
•     Northern Liberties
•     The Good King Tavern*
•     Bella Vista
•     The Farm and Fisherman
•     Washington Square West
•     Amada
•     Old City
•     Talula’s Garden
•     Washington Square West
•     Barbuzzo
•     Midtown Village
•     Talula’s Daily
•     Washington Square West
•     Kensington Quarters*
•     Fishtown
•     South*
•     Spring Garden
•     Jamonera
•     Midtown Village
•     Pub and Kitchen
•     Grad Hospital
•     Il Pittore (closed January 2016)
•     Rittenhouse
•     Aldine*,Center City
•     Bistrot La Minette*,Queen Village
•     Brauhaus Schmitz, Bella Vista
•     Opa*, Midtown Village
•     Little Fish, Bella Vista
•     Barclay Prime, Rittenhouse
•     Ela, Queen Village

Source : http://www.phillymag.com/foobooz/50-best-restaurants/#M8e8D02gjHPS62HX.99

APOCALYPSE

I am in Kolkata now. It is 10:20 PM. I have 4 more days left in the city. After that I am again, leaving on a jet plane.

Right now thanks to the Nov 8 declaration of demonitization of Rs500 and Rs1000 by our Hon'ble Prime Minister the entire country is in a cash strife on the verge of a cash riot. There have been 25 deaths due to this and yet most educated middle-class and upper middle-class young Indians who have access to plastic and e-money are supporting it. And the poor and the old are the ones who are as usual the collateral damage.

In the United States of America where I have to go back and spend atleast the next 1.5 years the country has elected a racist, misogynist, abusive, sexual predator as their President over the most qualified candidate of all time. Perhaps because it was a She. But right now the verdict is clear. The majority of the white population do not want anybody else to be there. Racism and hate crimes have come into the forefront of even the most liberal cities and suburbs.

And I am not even going to start talking about Brexit, Bangladesh, Myanmar, ISIS, Syria, Israel, German Nationalist Party. I guess this is what apocalypse feels like.

And I am sad. Really sad. That I have to leave my bed, my house, my parents behind. I never felt like this before. But I do now. My parents seem so much more frail and withered and with every passing day I am scared that I might not be able to see them if I am not around. The logical part of my brain knows that it has to happen. But I don't want it to happen. I don't want to have to face it or deal with it. I just feel helpless and melancholy and doomed. Yes ! I feel DOOMED. I have gone through much worse before in my life and I have encountered this feeling before. But I could always bring myself out of it. Just this time it does not feel like it will be possible and most importantly it does not feel like I want to.

And yes 2016. YOU SUCKED!! SO BAD!! SO VERY BAD!!

Does it ever get better?

আমি ঢাকা

I had gotten my visa extension about two months back and the first thoughts in my head were I have to go home. To kolkata. I had asked my manager then only but finally that Friday morning my manager came up to me and said I could look to go back home end of October if I wanted. That's all I needed. I booked my tickets within the next 5 hours. The flight is apparently on a Monday and would reach on Tuesday and I would lose two working days. That will affect my utilization and then my rating. But who cares? I am going home. That's what mattered. I decided to meet up CGNC. I had been cooped up inside the house all week.I was just in one of those moods where I did not want to meet anybody and was feeling like a hermit. But the fact that I would be going home needed to be celebrated. It was around 8 in the evening when I met CGNC. I was bursting at my seams. I just blabbered whatever happened throughout the day. Any celebration needs food and that's like a CGNC and me tradition. We meet up once a couple of weeks and go and dine out and make a day/night of it. He listened to me and said you must want Indian food today and to that I told him that what I wanted that day was good bengali food and I went on to add as to why the Bangladeshi/Bangali community here have'nt opened a true-blue Bangladeshi restaurant. And then he said " Hey ! Have you been following what's happening in Bangladesh today." I had read that a Hindu priest was hacked to death the day before and I silently nodded. "Why do you thing their commandos are taking so long to take any action? Why are they not barging into the cafe?"  I realized he was talking about something else. "Cafe? What Cafe?" He replied "A bunch of terrorist have stormed some cafe in some city in Bangladesh. I can't remember the name. The ISIS have claimed responsibility."

I was only half listening to him. I was already too busy trying to find the details on my phone. Bangladesh. I could not believe it. I know politically, geographically it is a different country but I have always felt that it's not that different. I mean, everyone in my mother's side of the family converse in fluent "bangal". How many times have I heard my pishi telling me "এহ তুই  মিষ্টি  খাস না . তুইও  বাঙ্গাল তোর  মা'র  মতন ."

All kidding apart. We speak the same language, eat the same food, share the same history, are nourished by the same river. We are the same.

And then I found out. A cafe in Dhaka. Dhaka! I had always imagined it to be like a soul-sister city to Kolkata. You know how we read about "সই " in old books. Something like that. I don't know why. But I needed more information.
More information than that there were Italians and Japanese citizens trapped inside the cafe. I needed more information than, the RAB was standing right outside waiting to take action. I needed to know who were inside. Who were those people. I needed to know how many terrorists. And yes I desperately needed to know what the RAD was still waiting outside for. I needed real-time update. Sitting in the U.S we keep getting real-time updates about a Bangladesh-India cricket match. Why not about this? Why not about what is happening in Bangladesh? If this was Paris or Brussels or Orlando, then there would be updates..that would have been the only news flooding my feed.

And then I went to Bengali daily news sites. And then I got what I was looking for. I don't even know what I was looking for anymore. I learnt about Arushi. And Arushi's friend. Farhaaz Hossain. The boy who could have left and saved his own life. But chose to stay back because of his friends and was hacked to death. The boy who was just 20 and far wiser and braver and noble than any one of us could ever be. But then the boy who hacked Farhaaz to his death was like Farhaaz and yet so unlike him. Nibras Islam, Rohan Imtiaz and Meer Saameh Mubasheer. They were not older than 23 themselves. They have studied in the best schools, travelled, and have been exposed to the world. Yet, they were completely okay with dying, because they believed they would go to heaven. More scarily, they were completely okay with hacking someone who was exactly like them. to death, not shoot them, but hack them with a machete, in the name of religion. Someone they might have had common friends with. Someone they could have easily had a conversation with, or shared a cuppa joe with, in some cafe.

But instead all of them lie dead. All of their lives cut short by machetes or bullets, brutally. And all, directly or indirectly because of this arbitarary "thing" called religion.

And that brings me to the point I have found hard to shake off my system. A point which would offend a lot of people. Everyone I know, have strongly condemned and been shaken by what happened in Bangladesh. But then there are many among them who are also strongly religious. Devout Hindus, Muslims, Christians and/or Sikhs. And to them I want to ask and this is a genuine question. Not an abstract condescending one. What is the point? What is the point about having a religion?

I really don't know the answer. All I know is that it could have been me. I am just like any of them. It could have been me sitting in a cafe with my friends, when a bunch of religious fanatics might decide to storm in and hack people to death. I don't know if they would have decided to spare me if I identified as Hindu or a Bengali or not. All I know is that I would bleed too. I already am. Because at some level I might not be as brave as Farhaaz Hossain or as cruel and clueless as Nibras Islam, but I am still them. Maybe not exactly. But still. A lot like them.

Ladies Last

CM is a very simple girl or perhaps a woman who happens to be a consultant. CM has worked 5.5 years in the same project 4 years in India and 1.5 years from the client location. CM has worked very hard and shown her merit and has gotten good reviews and ratings 4 out of those 5.5 years including her very last appraisal.

Incidentally CM is the only one belonging to the XX chromosomes gene pool and works with 12 other people who are XY chromosomes.

This incident is one particular incident that happened one particular day but is quite indicative of the kind of behaviour CM, and I am sure most other women have to constantly face at work.


So on this day a very senior lead from CM's India office visits CM's client location. A meeting is obviously arranged. Most meetings like this are CM's nightmare. So the senior lead walks in to the meeting room. Let us call him GD. He sits down and he says, "This is the third team I am meeting and this is the thing with every team. 1 ' LADIES' and rest 'GENTLEMEN'. Is this your plan? But there is no gender bias here and so no Ladies First Business here. "

Everyone around the table laughs a little. CM forces resemblance of a smile.

The meeting continues with expression of gratitude but also the dire times ahead. How the (human)resources have worked hard but ofcourse need to work harder. How they should expand their horizon and no not go travelling, but find new problems in the client architecture so that they can make the clients realize how inadequate they are and then give the client the solutions themselves like the great Houdini and let them know how indispensable CM's team specifically and her company in general are. Ofcourse it ends with the future prospects of CM's company and the new projects that they have acquired. The two recent large projects acquired by CM's company are two luxury brands. One related to Women's beauty product and the other is a well know designer brand for handbags. And GD concludes with "We should find this exciting specially the Ladies right?" He looks at CM and smiles. Now CM has learnt to keep her mouth shut in situations like this. Except CM's expressions gets the better of her sometimes. To CM it obviously does not matter if her company has acquired the project of a client who sells overpriced (and overhyped) handbags or a client who sells toilet cleaners as long as it means that her company gets revenues and profits which percolates down to her. Just one sentence escapes CM's lips. "Ofcourse. Since they will be giving us LADIES free stuff."

Everyone in the room starts laughing. CM wonders if they are laughing at the sarcasm or they think that is actually funny.

Kalki - Salute

No one says it better than her

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JF0_dGYeSEk

Belated Happy New Year 2016

It is another new year. People all over the globe have celebrated absolutely nothing changing. It is not like the refugee crisis will  eradicate, or the giant chemical/automobile/oil corporations of the world will start investing more money in solving global warming. Last year it was Lahore,Paris, Baghdad, and this year it was Pathankot,Turkey, Kenya. The ISIS-s and the Boka Harems and the Pakistan militants. and the Maobadis they will all exist just like the head of nations and all of us, the normal regular people, be sacrificed as collateral damage.

A world where children are slaughtered in the name of religion, women are raped, mutilated, burned without any hesitation for sport, where men are killed because of what he eats, needs to change. There needs to be an upheaval. Every single one of us, the normal collateral expendables, need to stand against injustice and speak up, for each other and for ourselves. We cannot keep on hiding anymore behind fear, behind societal diktats. And when that change happens, when we can truly identify ourselves as decent human beings that is when we should celebrate.

My Experience in Amreeci Village : Pujo 2015

This is my first Pujo where I have not spent a single day in Kolkata. I was depressed to say the least. I was homesick to the point I could physically feel it in the pit of my stomach. I am not a religious person at all. But Pujo is so much more than just a religious festival. It is almost a tradition. It is my roots. It is nostalgia. It is my childhood and my growing up. Pujo is a part of every single person's life living in Kolkata and I am sure the rest of Bengal. It is a feeling an indescribable feel-good feeling.

ASP and VP who live in the nearby village of Parsiappany in NJ told me that there are some Pujos nearby them. Not Pujo on the Pujo day. But 5 days of Pujo crammed into one and a half days. But I thought to myself. It would still be Pujo So it was decided that I would go over to their house and go over I did last weekend.

So we got our "tickets" to the most famous Pujo that there is in New Jersey. Yes. You have to get "tickets" worth $60 per head per day to be able to even get a glimpse of Ma. If you do not have your "ticket" ( represented by a band on your hand ) the very Amreeci bouncers standing on the doorway will NOT let you enter to even get a glimpse of Ma. ( To be fair I have heard it is not the same in other pujos across the country. )

So the day comes and we put on our ethnic outfits and set about to go see Ma. I was feeling a little better because if Durga Pujo is there can Kolkata be far behind? But the Pujo itself made me feel a million times more depressed. It was not Pujo at all. There was no Pujo feeling. It was just a podium for fashion show. An annual display of the Dhakais and Jamdanis and Kanjeeverams along with the latest on P.C Chandra and Anjali Jewellers.  I am not kidding when I say that there was an actual booth for P.C Chandra jewellers along with booths for expensive saris and punjabis. In the sub zero temperature(-4 C to be exact) it was a show of backless cholis, slinky blouses, and flat abs peeking behind transparent pallus. Ma was there as a backdrop for taking pictures. I went and stood in front of the idols to just hang my head and reminiscence. In like about 2 seconds I heard, 'Young lady can you please move to the side?" because Ganesh was being dismantled. The hall had to be cleared for the concert to follow. So bye bye Bhagwan. " Asche bochor abar hobe."

The Pujor adda was there in the form of gossip (which was sort of right on track). But the adda had its own added forced accent. Why is it that people don't get that it is very easy to differentiate between a natural accent and a forced accent ? And speaking Bangla as if it will break your teeth is far FAR from appealing.

I ended up being even more depressed after going to that Pujo. The saving graces were ASP. (The moment she entered she was like "P you will not like this Pujo. This is EXACTLY like Bangalore Pujo") , the "Desh pujobarshiki", the not so yummy Fish Fry and the very yummy Shammi Kebab.

My experience in the Amreecan Village : My two recent brush with the Amreeci security.

It is summer and the season of sight seeing in this country. It is like everyone is out and about and obviously I have to be out too. Even though I am still limping around with a giant leg brace. So last weekend VP, ASP and I along with RR (one of VP's friends) decided to pay the Lady herself a visit. We had to get on the cruise from Liberty Park NJ and there was a security screening set up. After having to walk for about 20 mins from the parking lot to the security screening my leg was already giving away. In the line I kept my bag in the designated tray for me. The security guards notices my brace and this is the conversation that followed.

SG : Mam you will need to take off your braces.
Me : I cannot walk if I take them off.
SG : Please stand there mam.

Then they waited for a woman security officer to come. In the meanwhile the whole line behind me was held up. A female security officer arrives. I was wearing shorts, a cotton blouse, a scarf, glasses and sandals.

SG : Mam take off your scarf and your glasses.
Me : My glasses?
SG : Yes Mam.
Me : OK.

I take all these things off and put them in a tray.

SG : Please take off your shoes mam.
Me : I need to sit in order to take my shoes off.

At this point ASP crosses over and helps me with my shoes.

SG : Do you have a belt mam ? Is there anything in your pocket mam.
Me : No

I cross through the metal detector and the female security officer pats me down. She puts her hands as far as it would go under my shirt and under my shorts. Then she gives me a chair, asks me to sit and take my braces off so that they can screen the braces through the xray machine once again.



This time while coming back through JFK my experience with the immigration was rather amusing as well. I was already in a wheel chair when the officer started asking me a bunch of question. I am just jotting down the interesting portions of that conversation.

O : So what do you do here ?
Me : I work for IBM.
O : I can see that. What sort of work?
Me : ( At this point I am thinking, just because you have a computer in front of you does not mean you will understand anything about Middleware Administration ) I am a Middleware Web Content Developer and Administrator.
O : Where do you stay mam?
Me : I give him my address.
O : Why are you going to NJ from here if you live in PA?
Me : My friend lives there and I am going to crash at her place because of the knee and all.
O : (After a minute of silence) So where are you coming from.
Me : India
O : Did something happen to you in India ?
Me : Excuse me?
O : Are you here for treatment and recovery ?
Me : No. Something happened to me here and I went to India for treatment and recovery.
O : ( Another minute of silence and then looking at the airport staff who was helping me ) She can go now.


On this Liberty Island trip we also went to Ellis Island. Not much has changed between then and now. The Amereeci sarkaar still treats the immigrants as aliens. Not good enough for human status. But as their own documentary says, America was and still is a "Country of Immigrants." That is what sometimes makes it bearable to stay away from family and friends. And just because no matter what, we should always have that sense of humour, here is a happy. smiley picture with the Lady Liberty in the background.

The Transaero Experience : Amreeca to India

I like bargains. Always have. Always will. In Kolkata I am an expert haggler when it comes to street-side shopping. I think it is a genetic gift from my mother. My friends usually stay away from me and pretend that they do not recognize me when I am in the middle of a heated bargaining session. I once managed to get a pajama for free from a Gariahat vendor. He was so frustrated with my bargaining that he said "Ei nin. Tahole free tei niye jan"( Just take it for free.) He was obviously trying to be sarcastic. He did not realize that I would actually put the pajama in my bag and start walking. In my defence he did say it.

So while coming back from Amreeca for my 3 and a half week of breather to Kolkata I was looking for a bargain. And I landed on Transaero Airlines. It was atleast 500 bucks cheaper than its closest competitor. No one in my circle of family, or friends, or colleagues knew or even heard about it.  Before confirming my ticket I googled Transaero and Moscow airport thoroughly. I saw that it had below average rating and most of it was because of poor in-flight entertainment.

Well here is my experience flying Transaero. The good, the bad and the ugly(which was probably not the airlines fault).

Flight from JFK to Moscow
============================================

1. I, owing to my very famous right operated leg, had taken wheelchair assistance. KB was flying with me which was a big big big humoungous help. I requested for a wheelchair at the checkin counter before getting the boarding pass. We were told by many that we displayed amazing ignorance by not doing a web check in, but even then we did get seats side by side in both the flights. The staff was quite considerate about it. After waiting for about 10 minutes I got a wheelchair.
2. As KB put it, my pain was her gain. Thanks to the wheelchair we breezed through security, and the staff was nice enough to stop at a restroom for me. He wheeled me right to the gate. Just before boarding started for everyone else another wheelchair appeared and they wheeled me to the gates of the flight.
3.  The flight was clean and full. The stewards and stewardesses were very good looking. The issue was their English was a little broken. They took my crutch and stowed it away safely.
4. After the flight was in flight(I am not sure if that is a tautological error) everyone got blankets but no pillows. Now this was bizzare. I specifically asked for pillows and they explained that pillows were only for babies. That is  bad according to me. In a long 9 hour long flight you should provide pillows to your flyers.
5. The in-flight entertainment had a host of popular Hollywood movies and shows. Each seat had its own personal video screen. The catch. Everything was in Russian with no subtitles. This was not a very big issue for me because I had my own entertainment. KB.
6. The food on this flight was actually quite good. There were a big group of orthodox Jewish students flying and the flight had special Kosher meals for them.
I had an interesting conversation with the flight attendants before I got my lunch.
Pretty Flight Attendant (in broken English) : You ordered special veg mean.
Me : No
PFA : Yes you did.
Me : No
PFA : But it says you did.
Me : Ok give me the veg dish.
PFA : But we no have veg dish. We only have fish dish.

I got fish a-la-kiev with mashed potatoes which was quite tasty. They served a veg salad which had a piece of ham in it. There were two breads. My advice. Do not eat them. And a bar of chocolate.

They served a second meal. I took eggs and sausages which was again quite tasty. KB took french toast. She was not a fan.

There was tea, coffee, different kind of juices and soda but no ginger ale. I did not see any alcohol. (On a completely different note. I have decided to take Thumbs Up from Kolkata and bring back Ginger Ale from the US)
7. My seat was perfect with enough leg space even for my broken leg. KB's backrest kept on sliding back even when the button was not pressed.
8. The flight was smooth and the landing applause worthy. It was also in time.
9. As mentioned there was a bunch of pubescent Jewish boys on the flight. Even in all their orthodox finery they were indisciplined monsters. I wanted to throw them off the flight. These were a bunch of typical "badhe baapke bigde huye aulad" They would hit my leg and murmer sorry and continue to do the same. They hit KB while she was sleeping. They also decided the spot just in front of our seat was the coolest place to hangout. they were loud and unruly and their caretakers were useless. I wish the flight attendants handled the situation better and made them quieten down for the other passengers.


Flight from  Moscow to New Delhi
============================================

1. The way Moscow airport got me in the flight is what sci-fi movies are made up off. The flight was from Gate 37. The staff got me out of Gate 21. Then a ramp came down and I was put in the ramp along with my wheelchair. The ramp automatically started moving and I was inside a truck. Te truck drove straight to the plane. Then the whole truck with everyone inside lifted up. Another ramp came out till the door of the flight. It was just oh-so-cool.
2. This one was a smaller flight and was completely empty. The staff (who again really pretty Russians with broken English) were nice enough and let me take a seat in the middle where there were three seats so that I could stretch my legs. I ended up completely lying down.
3. We got the blankets but this time KB took matters into her own hands and found the stash of pillows and got us a couple.
4. The in-flight entertainment was non-existant in the form of a giant screen at the front of the flight which showed whatever the pilot fancied I guess.
5. As for food I got chicken for myself and KB got fish. The chicken with rice was rathar nice a version of Lila Majumdar's pishpash with boiled carrots. The fish was apparently quite bad. This time also there veg salad had a giant chunk of raw fish. I am not sure what else they served because I slept through that. And ofcourse there was tea, coffee, juices and sodas.
6. The flight was before time and the landing once again impeccable.
7. As soon as I landed in Delhi there was a staff with a wheelchair for me. We were at the extreme last gate and this is something I would like to mention specifically. I offered him cash, because I thought this is India and all that. He did not take it. He said "Thank You Ma'am. I was only doing my job."

When I was flying back to Kolkata from New Delhi via Indigo, both the staff was actually expecting me to pay them for pushing me in the wheelchair.

All in all I would actually recommend Transaero. Carry your own entertainment and stock up on some food. From functionality, safety, security, punctuality and cost effectiveness, it is a good choice. I will confirm my opinion after I return to the States. I have my tickets on the same flight.

P.S. - Moscow airport does not accept Dollars. It only accepts Rubles and some shops might accept Credit Cards. Best is to have some Russian currency with you. 1 Russian Ruble == 1.15 INR.

The shorts Story

I have grown up in a bustling metropolitan city. My parents are moderately liberal. My dad never really cared much about clothes in general or what I wore in particular. Even as a kid when I would ask him for money to buy clothes his general response was always " Why do you need money for rags?". But if I said I needed money for books he would actually give me extra money. My mother on the other hand was and still is a little too opinionated about what I wear. She does not really mind what I wear when I am out with my friends. But when it comes to me visiting my relatives she always insists that I wear a salwar suit or saris (something grown up and traditional). She also tells me that traditional clothes suit my body type better ( what she means is I am fat and I should not wear western outfits). But even me, just me, if I am in Kolkata I would not out of my own wear something above my knee or something off-shoulders or something like a spaghetti even during the hot sweltering months. And if I am absolutely honest a lot of it has to do with how I will be ogled at on the streets but a lot of it also has to do with how I will be get looks filled with judgment and disapproval by mostly other women on the road. I think, this is the reason that prompts my mother also. What other people would think if I bare too much skin.

The first incident happened in 2011 when I burned my leg. I remember I could not wear, leggings or jeans for obvious reasons. I tried wearing skirts a little below my knee but they would brush against my burn and that used to hurt mind-numbingly much. So I used to wear long skirts and saris when outside. Around the house, I used to wear shorts and nightshirts. The thought of wearing a short short outside, even when I was hurting because the fabric would brush against the burnt skin, did not ever cross my mind


The second incident is fresh. 2015 and my ACL repair. Dr M who is super efficient and has been very accommodating to my needs(which I appreciate so much that I actually want to voluntarily hug him at times) does not really mince his words. The first time I went to see him I was wearing knee length shorts which would be considered quite scandalous among  society at home. The conversation went something like this.

Dr M : Why are you not wearing shorts ?
Me : But I am.
Dr M : No something shorter. Much above your knee.
Me : How much shorter?
Dr M (pointing to my lower thigh) : This is where your final stitch is going to be. So something above that.
Me : I do not wear such shorts.
Dr M : Why?
Me (I did not know how to explain all these complex social rules I have grown up with and instead said what I believed was what everybody was thinking) : Because my legs are not nice.
Dr M : Aesthetically I have no comments. But if you want your legs to be nice from a functional point of view you will wear shorts. I cannot have anything touching my stitches."
At that point I was thinking the stitches are mine they will be on my leg. But the option was clear. I would risk showing ugly leg rather than have an infected leg.

I bought three pair of shorts. I figured it would tide me over 6 weeks of recovery. I have been moving around in them. At first I was a liitle uncomfortable. Not only am I wearing shorts for the first time after puberty, I was not allowed to take a bath for two weeks. Now, although I am allowed to take a bath, I am still not allowed to scrub my leg let alone shave it. So I have been to a hospitals, across state lines, beaches and a bank in shorts with unshaven leg. Guess what ? Nobody cared. Nobody gave a second glance. Well actually they did to ask me if my leg was okay because of the braces. Nobody asked why my legs are not shaved or why I am wearing shorts. People usually made way for me and helped me

Till today morning that is. I went to the bank today in NJ and there was a lady in a salwar suit with her husband. I was there with VP. The looks that she gave me. I had forgotten that look. One full of disapproval and viciousness. She moved a little closer to her husband and then she saw I was with VP and gave VP a look too. A look of  "How can you let your woman wear what she is wearing."

I am supposed to land in Kolkata in 10 days. I wonder what happens if I land up in my city wearing shorts ? I will be judged won't I ? In my own city ? Does this really mean I am somehow disrespecting my culture??

"Motion se hi emotion" or "Pupu misses her poop"

The last post talks about me visiting Dr Kathleen with a twisted knee post Zumba. That happened a month and a half back.

A lot has happened since then. In short after meeting Dr Kathleen and then Dr H and then getting an MRI and then meeting Dr H and then meeting Dr M, I finally got my knee surgery done last Tuesday that is 26thMay 2015. The medical system in the U.S. is crazy and complicated and is like navigating through a treacherous maze. I also had to sign about 8 different agreements before I got the surgery and also got asked 7 times if I have a living will. If I don't would I like to get in touch with someone who can help me draw a draft. Let me just say that hearing that I need a living will right before a knee surgery is not what keeps my spirits up.

The day of the surgery I actually flew in a red-eye from Portland. One of my biggest fears during the surgery was that I would not go completely down under or I would wake up in the middle of the surgery. I made my fears  known very strongly and I guess I was given anesthesia accordingly. I did not wake up at all. Moreover the pain killers that were pumped into me made me just simply pass out from time to time. I am eating yogurt and I would pass out with the spoon in my hand. I would pass out with cheese sticks inside my mouth. I would switch on the TV with all intentions of watching something and yes just simply pass out. I would wake up and tell ASP that she and VP are part of a Charlie Chaplin movie and pass out again.

As highly annoying as that was it was not even as frustrating as what I am going through right now. My poop has vanished. There is no poop coming out of my system. And today is the 4th day. It is not even like I feel bloated or constipated. I am eating more than my 14,000 calories a day because of all the meds but still no poop. I could not eat hot or spicy stuff for the last three days but now I can start I am guessing. As I am sipping my glass of prune juice I am hoping that something will work its magic. Some super effective remedy will present itself sooner or later. If nothing works I will call KB and talk to her till something comes out.

At this point all I can say is that "Pupu misses her poop".

Knee POP : Some basic information of getting to doctors office in Amreecan village

Knee POP or in other words I popped my knee.

So it is not a mystery to anybody that I need to lose weight. Ever since I came to the US I have lost 10 pounds. I need to lose at the very least 37 pounds more. This is not for vanity. This is because of the fact that I am overweight This is also because of the fact that both my parents have serious heart problems and if I do not start seriously taking care of myself now, the inevitable will happen.

Now to less morbid and slightly fun stuff. (Maybe not that fun but interesting fun). You know how there are all these notes and posts all over about weird Mathematical connections to different incidents of famous people or incidents in general. Well I am not so famous but still here goes.

• In March 2011, I burnt the back portion of my right lower leg. I was in Goa at that time planning to go for water gliding. That never happened.
• In March 2013, I was in D in a hotel and I slipped and fell while coming out of the bathroom. I twisted my right ankle. Later I found out I have torn my ligament and had to get physiotherapy for it.
• In April(not March)2015 I am doing Zumba. As I said I need to lose weight. My knee suddenly goes pop and from the next day I cannot walk. And yes I cannot do Zumba now for atleast 4 months.And when I was just starting to enjoy an exercise.

Notice the pattern? I will be super careful in March 2017. I will not get off my butt. But with the given trend, chances are that my chair will fall under me.

Now to the part which I hope actually helps new people coming to Amreecan villages.  How to go about getting a doctor to see your leg(or arm/or head/or stomach/any general ailment).

1.The first thing that I did(and this part I did correctly) is go to the medical insurance site(or call them up)for a listing of doctors(in my case sports orthopaedic specialist)around the neighbourhood.
2. Then I tried calling up the individual offices of the doctors and none of them had any opening till end of April and all of them suggested that I should get myself checked at an urgent care facility first. So lesson number 2 is if you need immediate attention with anything (ANYTHING that is not serious to the extent that you are not dying) then go to an urgent care facility. And yes this urgent care facility must fall under the approved list of places for your medical insurance company. Call them up before hand to find out till when they are open. It is not like all places are open 24x7. If you are dying or have serious medical emergency always call 911.
3. If you live alone and don't have people around to help keep any cab company number handy. Uber or Local Cab Numbers. For people in Philly and KOP area I suggest Philly Main Line Cab. They have excellent service and are highly reliable.
4. Go to the urgent care and fill up all the forms and hand over your insurance card and be sure to carry an ID Proof.
5. The doctors then had me checked and in my case it was not too serious. I was advised rest, elevation, ice and compression. I was given IbuProfen to be taken after 6 hours.I was also asked to keep off my foot. Anything else that is needed including medicines or other accessories( like knee caps) will be provided by the urgent care and everything should be handled through your insurance.
6. In my case the attending Dr Kathleen (who was the most gorgeous woman I have seen in my life)also adviced me to get an orthopaedic appointment now only for a later date. If I dont need it I can always go cancel it. But I will under no circumstances get an appointment at a specialists immediately. And if I do get an appointment once then it is easier and faster for me to get an appointment the next time. Do not ask me the logic behind this. Apparently this is how it works atleast in the state of Pennsylvania


I think I have covered the most important parts.


Now I need to give a speech. Always wanted to do this but never won an award. But publicly writing about knee injury gave me this fantastic opportunity.

Firstly I want to thank my amazing roommate PNT for being so concerned and amazing and opening doors and cooking for me and cleaning all the dishes. I am really sorry PNT that I abandoned you.

Secondly to CGNC. I know you don't know about my blog. But I will make you read it at some point. :P . You barely know me and have already helped me so much. By just being there when I needed company the most. By showing me Philly in a whole new light. By being the sweetest person ever to come and fix my laptop. By coming over and getting the perfect knee braces and medicines, By taking me to the emergency room and waiting there for me without a second thought. By buying me that sandwich from WAWA after we were done.By staying past your bedtime. And most importantly for giving me the time when you have so little time to spend with you know who. Just for being one of the most decent people I have met in my life. And also for not getting irritated with the number of "Sorry" that I keep on telling you.

To MMS for scolding the life out of me for going to Zumba lessons. I know you care and I love you.

To KB. You always make me laugh. And you actually thought of flying down from Florida. I mean seriously !!

And lastly to ASP and VP. I do not want to thank them. I just want to hug them and tell them that I am blessed that they are close to me when I am so far from my city. I am glad that ASP can actually bully me into coming over and pack and bundle me up to her house in an hour. And to ASP I just want to say "What would I have done if you did not scare me in 3rd grade ?"

My Experience in an Amreecan Village Part 3 : There is water in the kitchen.

Thursday morning I wake up an hour early than usual thanks to my roommate's "Aaaiyaa. C. Wake Up. WAKE UP !" As it is I am having a little trouble adjusting to all this day-light saving thing. My body does not know that 7 AM is now actually 8 AM.  That is another thing about this country. DSL. Sun goes down at 8 PM now. Crazy !! Anyways. Back to the topic at hand. I wake up to "Aaaiyaa. C. Wake Up. WAKE UP !"

I get out of my room rubbing my eyes and see that she is in one piece. A few hair out of place. But then she was sleeping. I was expecting atleast a few horrible cuts. Otherwise waking me up at 7:30 AM in the morning(which is technically 6:30 AM) is just cruel. I try to make sense of the situation and ask her as politely as I can manage " What the?? Are you ok?? Why were you screaming?" She points to the general direction of the Kitchen and says " There is water in the kitchen". At this point I am thinking "Ofcourse there is water in the kitchen. That is where we keep our Brita fliter jug." So I try again(politely) and this time I use the ever expressive "Huh ?" (which reflected my innermost feeling of concern that she might have lost her marbles). She points again towards the kitchen and tells me "Just go look.Please."

It is 7:30 AM in the morning(which is technically 6:30 AM)and I was not wearing my glasses and I was wearing my favourite fluffy pink socks. I step into the kitchen and immediately freeze. Out of shock yes. But also because I was ankle deep in freezing cold water. Inside the kitchen. I look at PNT (the roommate) and say "There is water in the kitchen." She replies "I know."

At this point we wake up our third roommate. PHS comes out. She is unusually calm as if finding freezing water in the kitchen is a regular affair! She tells me to call the maintainance emergency number.  Every thing she is telling me I only assimilate half of it. Because I am barely awake. I get rid of my pink fluffy socks and call the maintainance guy.

There is a knock on the door exactly after 15 minutes. I open the door and the 6 foot 6 inch Mike is standing there. He smiles and says "You girls have a situation at hand it seems." And then there is a mini invasion. A very efficient mini invasion. Mike and I dont know her name but let us call her Molly works efficiently. They know what to do. They don't want any help. And they clean everything. The entire kitchen. Including carpets.They actually secretly make me slightly grateful that our Kitchen was flooding

I could even get ready for work. It was only when me and PNK were leaving that I went over to Mike and asked him if he needed something because we were all leaving. He said "OK." Then it occured to him and he asked "Are you all leaving?" I said "Yes" He just said that he needed to leave the blower inside so that our place dries up and might come in later to move it to the hall. And then he smiled and said "Have a nice day girls"

The blower is still sitting in our hall. Because our hall is still wet. It is nice having it there actually. Standing and opening the keys of the door feels like a mini Bollywood movie. With your hair blowing and your skirt flowing.

Happy Holi 2015

Holi, the festival of colours. Spring to me, like most Indian begins with Holi. So Holi literally brings colour, not only in the form of "abir" and "rong" but in nature, our smiles, our feelings and our very lives

Last year I was at a friend of a friend's rooftop near Golpark. The previous night the four of us, PB1, KB and SB stayed over at 22. We ate chinese from Mandarin and PB1's special "Death By Chocolate Brownie" which was laced with something more than chocolate. ( READ LOVE). On the day of Holi, we got ourselves some colours, called over RB(KB's brother) begged him to be our driver and ended up in the friend of a friends rooftop. There was an open house(rooftop?) Holi Party. There was every possible arrangements that a Holi party might need. Food, bhaang, sweets and ofcourse colours. PB1 and SB refused to play colours but the rest of us went upstairs and proceeded to drench ourselves with colours, smearing each other's faces and then comparing who looks the most colourful(read unrecognizable). It was the first Holi I forced myself to celebrate after almost two years. The previous two years were not the best for me and I did not feel particularly celebratory. And I had an inkling that I will not be around for the next year.

And this year, my Holi was white and grey. It snowed here. So the weather and me are both a little glum. Everyone is hoping that this is the last snow of the season and soon there will be spring.While most people here are asking each other "When will Spring come ?" I am reminded of  that famous line by Gabbar Singh "Holi kab hai ? Kab hai Holi ?? "