Yesterday I passed by my past. Friday morning in Bangalore saw an unusual spell of rain. I was on M.G.Road, waiting for a friend, to go shopping in City Market. Don't know what brought it on, but I had this uncontrollable urge for a softy cone. I walked down to the regular softy shop on Bridage Road, found it closed, and went into McDonalds. The rain turned into a light drizzle just then.

I had just stepped out of McDonalds, licking my vanilla softy cone, when I passed a couple walking in the opposite direction. I thought that was somebody familiar, and being very engrossed with my softy cone, didn't immediately pay attention. After several moments, it struck me. I replayed the last few seconds in my head. She looked as beautiful as before. I turned around and watched her walk away in the other direction, silently waving her a good-bye, trying to ignore the trembling in my legs, then telling myself, C'est la vie, and trying to mentally recite this poem I read recently.

It's written by Semone Akil Tabb, in which he has so clearly written exactly what I had wanted to say for a long time.

Like a thief, unexpectedly you robbed me
No more coldness within my heart
You changed it from dirty stone
Into a beautiful piece of art

To passion I had no vision
But you kissed my eyes and let me see
Another part of my rigid being
You so graciously set free
Emotions which I found foreign,
Seem to be a second language today
You taught me how to speak them
Within my heart they’ll stay

Like a thief, unexpectedly you robbed me
Stole my heart without a peep
I thank you for being so silent
My heart you shall keep

Cheers
Mayur Poddar
@poddu.com
@www.67knots.com

My favourite song was ...

रात कलि एक ख्वाब में आई , और गले का हार हुई ।
सुबह को जब हम नींद से जागे , आँख तुम्ही से चार हुई ।
चाहे कहो इसे मेरी मोहब्बत , चाहे हसीं में उड़ा दो ।
ये क्या हुआ मुझे , मुझको ख़बर नहीं , हो सके तुम ही बता दो ।
तुमने कदम जो , रखा ज़मीन पर , सीने में क्यूँ झंकार हुई ।

Cheers
Mayur Poddar
@poddu.com
@www.67knots.com

In mid-December, I visited Ganga, a friend from old times, at her newly acquired abode. Besides being a top executive in a very large organization, Ganga is also an Art of Living (AOL) teacher, and is rather unrelenting when it comes to making excuses for not attending AOL courses. When I thought I had reasonably convinced her that I couldn’t go to the ashram at the time, she called them and registered my name and gave me the course fee. No way out.
 
So off I went to the Art of Living ashram in Bangalore. I did the 3 day residential Basic Course at the ashram, during which time I had the opportunity to meet Sri Sri Ravishankar (a.k.a. Guruji). The highlight of the course is the Sudarshan Kriya. During the stay at the ashram, I had several unnatural experiences. Maybe unnatural is not the appropriate word here. Try unusual. These experiences came with the Sudarshan Kriya, meditation, satsang, and at the time of meeting Guruji. The kriya was particularly unnerving the first couple of times.
 
On day 2, I lost my sandals, and couldn’t find anything comfortable in the one store at the ashram. I was told that this happens all the time at the ashram, and that the sandals were probably stolen, or exchanged with somebody who couldn’t find theirs in a hurry. I felt no anger and quite calmly told myself that whoever had my sandals probably needed them more than me. And probably in a trance, I decided to, and within just about the outer limits of bearable physical distress, managed to stay bare feet for the rest of the 2 days. At the end of day 3, I took a bus home, walked home from the bus stop, and rode the bike to my cousins place for dinner, bare feet. And I was enjoying it. Until my cousin noticed that I was leaving her apartment that way, and got the “Are you crazy! They got to you, didn’t they?!” talk. I must say that the 3 days not only took my mind off the low, but made me feel way better. The low comes from sustained loneliness and unemployment, and makes me think crazy things.

Naveen and Monali came visiting their motherland in December. On Christmas-eve, we drove down to Mysore, Naveen at the wheel, for what was supposed to be a day trip. We had breakfast at Kaadu Mane, where Monali totally freaked out at the monkeys. And how can I forget the search for a Shell gas station, not for the gas, but for the cleanest possible public toilet. I tell you, these 2 have stayed in gora land too long. I played along merrily, but inside, I was feeling restless.

Mysore was a lot of fun. We visited the Mysore Palace and spent good time admiring the paintings and artifacts and figuring out if we could find the existence of our previous births in any of those paintings. Yes, we actually did that. At a spot, I even wanted to lie flat on the floor so I could get a good look at the paintings on the ceiling.

Lunch was at Kamat Yatrinivas, a typical unlimited meal. I ate so much, I couldn’t believe myself. I think all 3 of us ate beyond our known capacities. We later hooked up with Mamata at her office, and that’s when, against my wishes, it was decided that we stay overnight at her place. Naveen and Monali went shopping for handicraft gift items, stuff that the gora people appreciate very much. And I got a haircut, the shortest crop ever. It was so close to a clean shave, it’s only now, after 3 months, that I have to use a comb. I despise using a comb now. There was a time when I had longer hair. That was the time I had plenty of hair on my head.

Naveen was very enthusiastic about getting a beer, so we all drove around town to Purple Haze, the hippest pub in Mysore. On Christmas-eve, the hippest pub in Mysore had all but 10 customers, and that’s including the 4 of us. Anyways, I having quit alcohol, had forewarned the gang that I’d be sipping fresh lime, something they didn’t approve of at all. And when we finally sat down at the table, I let myself become weak, and ordered a tequila shot. One led to the other, then another, and when someone had paid the bill, I had had 6 shots.

After that, my memories are blurred. I vaguely remember climbing down a lot of stairs, eating yucky noodles, and then getting off the car in the apartment basement, and somebody scolding me for shouting. Then I remember lying on my back on the carpet and mumbling something non-stop. I’m quite sure I was walking on my own, because none of the others, or even all of them put together, would have had the strength to carry me around.

The next morning, we ate idlis and dosas for breakfast, and then I drove us back to Bangalore. The highlight of the drive was that I got stuck on one song and played it over and over again, and in fiddling with the mp3 player, nearly rammed into another car in front of us.

तू ही तो जन्नत मेरी, तू ही मेरा जूनून,
तू ही तो मन्नत मेरी, तू ही रूह का सुकून
तू ही अखियों की ठंडक, तू ही दिल की है दस्तक,
और कुछ न जानू में, बस इतना ही जानू
तुझ में रब दिखता है, यारा में क्या करूँ, सजदे सर झुकता है, यारा में क्या करूँ

ना कुछ पूछा, ना कुछ माँगा, तूने दिल से दिया जो दिया
ना कुछ बोला, ना कुछ तोला, मुस्कुरा के दिया जो दिया
तू ही धूप तू ही छाया, तू ही अपना पराया
और कुछ ना जानू, बस इतना ही जानू....
तुझ में रब दीखता है, यारा में क्या करूँ, सजदे सर झुकता है, यारा में क्या करूँ

Cheers
Mayur Poddar
@poddu.com
@www.67knots.com

Wish you and your families a very very happy new year.

It was probably the hottest summer day in Vancouver when I finally took my flight test. August 15 2008, aptly applied to me, is Independence Day. I passed the test, and lo and behold, I am now the proud owner of a Commercial Pilot License. As much as I had wanted to complete the Multi-Engine Instrument Rating (MEIR), I promptly brought an end to my flight training. With several of my friends without aviation jobs a year after completing their courses, I saw no merit in spending another fortune on MEIR. The economy was already hurting and pilot jobs in India had all dried up or blown away. Of course, there was one last thing left to be done. And that was to return to India and complete the Indian exams for license conversion. I was dreading those. Imagine going to an exam knowing well that the pass percentage is 10% - only 10% of the applicants ever pass the exam.

On my way back to India, I hopped over to San Francisco (SFO) to meet Shachi - Srikant and Naveen - Monali. Flying to India via SFO was somehow $200 cheaper than going direct from Vancouver. Canada is a bloody expensive country. The 2 days I spent in SFO were fabulous. Shachi and Srikant treated me to an evening of champagne and bowling and one of the most beautiful sunsets I have seen. So much alcohol after a long time made me woozy and crazy. The next day, Naveen took a day off to show me the inspiring Stanford University. Just being there made me want to study. We then drove to Half Moon Bay to grab the best clam chowder, and we later smoked a cigar by the Pacific Ocean. That was the last time I drank, smoked and ate non-vegetarian food.

I lost my laptop at SFO airport. More appropriately, I forgot it at the airport. I forgot a bunch of stuff at Vancouver too. I was going home after a very long time, and nothing seemed to trouble me. I was at peace. Or so I felt. As my luck would have it, the laptop was later traced to the lost and found at SFO airport, and Naveen picked it up for me. Someday, I may see the laptop again.

I landed at Bangalore at 1pm on mom’s birthday. The plan was to surprise her, by landing up 2 days before what I had communicated to her. My sister gave it all away. And I’m so glad she did. She picked me up from the airport, and drove me apparently for a rendezvous with her husband before we went home. We ended up at Rajdhani, a new restaurant at UB City. And there was my entire family, 15 of them, waiting to give me the biggest surprise ever.

Four days later, I was in a train to Delhi. I signed up for tuitions for the Indian exams and spent the next 2 months studying. This was the most intense form of studying I have ever done in my entire life. I hadn’t studied like this in school or college. The days stretched beyond my liking and I had nothing else to do but study. It was like a study fever. I lived in a PG (Paying Guest) run by a hitler of a punjabi lady and her mouse of a husband, sharing a room with 2 senior high school boys, eating 3 somewhat deplorable meals a day.

I picked up a nasty cold in Delhi. With the cold, I had walked up to the Saket J-block market to pick up some brandy. My room mates had encouraged me to get some, the brandy would cure the cold and I could focus on the books. The small liquor store did not have any brandy. As I dragged myself away, something caught my eye from behind the shelves of the pharmacy just beside the liquor store. And I walked home with a bottle of Bournvita. I don't even remember the last time I had Bournvita. And the Bournvita worked wonders, it gave me so much energy, my room mates said I was getting high on it. Another day, I started coughing. I thought it was allergic, but it developed into a chronic cough. It took 3 months and 4 doctors to cure.

My class was a 15 minute walk from the PG, and my tutor, Mr.Duggal, gave the small class of 10 enough to work at. Towards the end of the classes as the exams got closer, he said that he had high expectations from me. And the pressure was becoming unbearable. The authorities made matters worse, the 2 days before the exams were as miserable as could be. Along with several classmates, I had to spend those 2 days standing in long queues to get an examination admit card. Those 2 days could have meant several more hours of study and those few annoying marks that make the difference between pass and fail. A month later, the results were declared, and I had passed. Pappu pass ho gaya.

What am I doing now? I am in Bangalore, looking for a job in IT. There are no pilot jobs anymore in India. And India is where I want to be. The colors, the music, the people, the food, the beauty, the simplicity, the love. It’s all here. Home is where the heart is. And IT is what I did best. So that's what I shall continue to do.

May the souls of the Mumbai carnage rest in peace and those who lost their loved ones be given the strength to accept.

The winter this year has broken all records. It had to; I was around. It continued to snow, well into the third week of April, something that hasn’t happened in the past 50 years. The sky remained grey and the rains kept coming, and the ground was often covered in snow. Spring was largely unpleasant, and summer arrived a month late. But it’s here now. And I am loving it!

For a large part of my student life in Vancouver, I lived in a home-stay (also known as P.G. accomodation). And let’s just say that I was spending too much time staying at home. Winter skies and sunset at 5:00PM had an overwhelming influence on my will. Desperate for a change, in February I moved in with Nav (a.k.a. Jugnu), another student pilot from India. We now share a 2-BR basement suite. This place is a 200% bachelor pad. Being so much nearer to school and living with another student pilot was an irresistible deal. I spent my first week cleaning the place, reorganizing the furniture, setting up my room and stocking up on food. When I was settled into the basement suite, it felt good, like I would finally get on with the studying. There was another student pilot living just 2 doors away. He was everyone’s friend, and Big Papa or Big Daddy is how everyone called him. I called him Godzilla. Godzilla is long gone now, back home in the Caribbean.

Vancouver is not a cheap place to live in. I have written about this so many times. And international students can find it particularly daunting to make ends meet. My monthly expenses were in the range of CAD $800 to $900, inclusive of rent, transportation, medical insurance and grocery. I know of several students who share a large apartment to save on rent and grocery costs. Grocery is something that hurts the most. Imagine paying CAD $1 for an onion. Yes, that’s about INR 40 for one onion. That hurts. When I pushed myself into staying here through the winter of 2007, I also came up with a rudimentary plan to trim my expenses and/or supplement my financial resources.

Now here is something that most people outside Canada are unaware of. The explosive growth of the oil-sands has lured several people to migrate to Alberta, leaving the service sector of Vancouver starved of staff. Small and medium commercial establishments, in an effort to stay afloat, have had to raise wages, hire inexperienced people, and pay cash. There are numerous jobs at fast food joints, pubs, gas stations (petrol pumps), construction sites, etc. I got a part time job at one such establishment. I was working 3 days a week, and was making just enough for my rent and groceries. This lasted me through the winter, and as winter rolled out, I went back to studying full time.

The work was only partially physically demanding, but it kept me standing for 8 hours. While I worked, I learnt again, how difficult it is to earn money. People here acknowledge and respect this fact. How much you earn or what work you do is of no consequence. One could be a waiter, cashier, petrol pump attendant, cleaner, taxi driver, kitchen assistant, anything at all. It could be a day shift or a night shift. Work could be physically demanding or not. It could involve direct interaction with customers or could be completely behind the scenes. The one common thing is that everyone works hard. If you are in the workforce that runs the vast service industry, you win respect from every person you serve. I served hundreds of people every day that I worked. If there is one thing I remember about them, it is their courtesy and politeness, irrespective of their color, age, status. Even if I were mopping the floor, people passing by would stop to say hello. It sometimes felt strange, because equality among all is not something I have witnessed very often. And this stark truth often overwhelmed my senses.

There was always the one odd person, who behaved like he owned the world, but there are always exceptions, and we should be accomodating. I must mention these two youngsters. One of them, in his early twenties, stopped when he saw me mopping the floor, and suggested that I take up mopping as a career instead of flying. The other, late teens I imagine, offered to pay me to mop his house. Would you believe me if I said that both these boys are Indians? Well, they are. And now, would you believe me if I said that both these boys are student pilots like me? Yes, they are. This was a surprising and disturbing experience. I can only hope that such people will understand humility, learn to give respect and become better people. I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that all us Indians can some day discard the artificial walls of caste, status, income and the work we do, and just be simple, honest people who are respectful to one another.

Cheers
Mayur Poddar
@poddu.com
@www.67knots.com

I’m still trying to catch up with myself. I used to be regular with my articles, and I have promised myself that I will bring them up to speed. Until then, I am writing a few articles about the recent past, this being one of them.

After the California trip, life became slow, and low. I spent most of my time lazing at home, or at a friend’s place, watching TV and downloading movies, or playing games, and with all that, how far could I have been from food? I was hardly ever going to school, and barely studying at home. And if I could, I would blame it all on the depressing, gloomy and short days of winter. With the amount of studying I was putting in, and with the weather going the way it was, I was already extending my completion date into March. With the little effort that I did put into studying, I passed the last remaining theory exam (Instrument Rating) in mid-December.

The very happy hours of the day were the 2 or 4 hours I spent watching movies. And hindi movies, as most of us know it, can range from gut tearing comedies to drama to action to tear jerkers, with some of them even bringing the entire spectrum into a single movie. Being the way I am, I enjoyed all the movies. Of all those I watched, only one movie was a sheer waste of time. The one that was totally worth its while was “Taare Zameen Par”. After watching it, I wrote to a friend: “I downloaded the movie and watched it sitting on my bed all alone last night. I don't remember having cried so much for any one movie. There are movies that have a few sentimental scenes, and I would shed a tear or two. But this one ... It was like the rain showers wouldn't refuse to stop. And all the while, I was acutely aware of my crying. Holy cow!”

Right through winter, every facet of life seemed to be shrinking into oblivion. There was a time when falling snow would bring a smile on my face. This winter however, there were only sly grins, chattering teeth, even cursing. Besides being hopelessly homesick, the level of interest and excitement in training had nosedived, self confidence was dwindling, and the loneliness was overpowering. I tried to spend as much time as possible with friends. The situation couldn’t be more ironic, as most people here are not in a very different state of mind. Yes, we all try to keep these dark aspects hidden away, paste a smile on our faces and pretend that we are happy as can be. There are the lucky few, those who are either so focused on the training that they don’t feel anything other than the excitement of flying, or those who drown themselves in alcohol and smoke, or those who are just too naïve and ignorant. Reminds me of that saying - ignorance is bliss!

Cheers
Mayur Poddar
@poddu.com
@www.67knots.com

Only one word is appropriate for a person who doesn't write on this personal blog for 5 months. LAZY. Yes, there are several other itsy-bitsy reasons, but none that would matter as much.

I am still in Canada, and still not done with the pilot training. My revised finishing date is May 2008. And it has taken this long because winter really beat down on Vancouver this year, and because I am taking it slow and steady. Over the last 4 months, I have done a lot, and done almost nothing. I am going to split my last 4 months into 2 articles, the first of which is this one, and a rather long one.

My hurt feelings from the much bungled training cross country flight to California were healed when Ruchi didi and family came up to Vancouver for a weekend sometime late July. Those 2 days were just so much fun. For a day, I was rockstar mama for Gaurika. And then they were gone. But California was still calling. And so I went. And I didn't fly. I took the train, and was that the most amazing train ride ever! My vacation lasted 8 days in all. Besides the trip being so amazing by itself, my being able to write about it after 4 months is surprising too (to me!).

Day-1

It started with an exciting bus ride from Vancouver to Seattle. Exciting because an hour into the drive, the bus broke down. That put a dampener on my spirits because I would miss the connecting train at Seattle, killing the entire trip. Fortunately, another bus on the same route had just enough space to take on the passengers of the broken bus. Unfortunately, we had lost too much time waiting on the side of the road, to make it in time to Seattle railway station. Considering how punctual and proper all of North America is deemed to be, I was visualising myself running on the platform and jumping into a moving train, filmy style. The bus reached Seattle railway station at 09:44 a.m., just in time for the 09:45 a.m. train departure. By then I was sure I was going to be jumping into a moving train. At the platform, there was no train, but there were hundreds of people with their baggage. It was difficult to believe at first, but it was true, the train was 2 hours late. And I used to think that trains were late only in India.

The train, called the Coast Starlight, in 24 hours, would take me from Seattle to San Jose, where Naveen and Monali live. This train takes a beautiful scenic route, along the Pacific Ocean shoreline, over snow covered mountains, through forests and valleys, through small towns and big cities. It has a dining car (popularly known as pantry car in India) that is like a restaurant, complete with cutlery and waiters. The menu is fixed, like in an airline, and they also serve alcohol. The biggest attraction on the train is the sightseer lounge that has floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a magnificent view of the scenery as we move.

I travelled in the coach class that has sitting only accommodation. The price of sleeper coach was 3 times more. The seats weren't bad at all, huge seats, plenty of reclining, loads of leg room, tray table, much like an airplane business class seat. I was comfortable, and I have high standards. I also made a new friend on the train, Diana, who was my co-passenger. She was also travelling from Seattle to San Jose. I think now that without her, the journey would not have been as enjoyable and fun.

Day-2

The train reached San Jose 3 hours late. Naveen picked me up from the station. From San Jose, Naveen and Monali drove me to San Francisco, visiting enroute the famous and historic Golden Gate Bridge, downtown San Francisco, the Fisherman's Wharf for crab at a street-side seafood joint and finishing off the wonderful evening with fabulous seafood at the Bubba Gump Restaurant (remember the movie Forrest Gump?).

Day-3

The next morning, we packed omelettes and toast and were on the road, driving to Las Vegas. The drive was long and tiring, with all 3 of us taking turns to do the 9 hour drive, averaging nearly 100 KMPH. Naveen said that there was too much traffic due to the holiday weekend and that we could have gone much faster otherwise. Talk about life in the fast lane. The drive was fun though, with some breath taking scenery, and much bickering between Monali and me over my burping. I learnt that it is rude and unmannerly to burp. How in this world are you supposed to swallow a burp? We drove through orange mangroves, vineyards, lakes, mountains, and the desert. Las Vegas sits in the middle of the desert. For nearly 200 KM from Vegas, there is only barren land and bald hills. And then, all of a sudden, this vast city with bright coloured buildings emerges from behind the horizon, like a mirage. As we got closer and closer, it became clear, Vegas was real. The biggest show on earth.

What can I say about Las Vegas? Jazzy, flashy, sexy, lavish, attractive, romantic. We drove around for a couple of hours, getting a glimpse of the various casino-resorts on The Strip. The Strip is slang for the one road that has all the glitter and glamour of Vegas. It is all of 2 miles long and these 2 miles could take one from rags to riches, or vice versa.

The first attraction was the Bellagio Musical Fountain. If you have seen the musical fountain at Bangalore, then you could say the one at Bellagio is about 10 times bigger and jazzier. And then it was time to gamble. Naveen was an instant hit, raking in some moolah from the word go. I on the other hand experienced the pain of losing money, much due to my lack of knowledge and experience. Dinner was a quick stop at a crepe store inside one of the resorts. And then, some more sight seeing, some more gambling, some more sight seeing, some more gambling.

After all the gambling, we decided to head to the mall with aspirations of grabbing some bargains at Best Buy, one of the biggest technology stores around. Naveen wanted to get himself a GPS and a laptop. It was Boxing Day, and the day of the biggest bargains anywhere in North America. When we got there at 2 in the morning, we found over a 100 people in a line snaking all around Best Buy. People were battling the cold to save a buck. We were too beat and decided to retreat to our hotel.

Day-4

It turned out that Naveen got this discounted 3-day package deal for us by signing up to attend an investment property seminar. And this was the day. So we went into it thinking it would be a 10 minute deal. It took us nearly 3 hours instead. And Naveen blamed that on me. He had gone in with the simple purpose of listen to them and walk out. I unfortunately couldn't resist the temptation of throwing in questions, spending unnecessary time at the demo unit, asking the guy for more finance options and what not. By the end of it all, I must have made friends with the property agent, and was telling him how we Indians needed a lot more time to decide on important long term investments like property and that was the reason why Naveen was not able to make a commitment. I even promised him that I would come back some day. We later went to the mall, had lunch, and indulged in some shopping. And then, back to the sight seeing, and the gambling.

At night, we watched the American Superstars show at the Stratosphere. It was a great song and dance show, with lookalikes of Elvis, Britney, Michael Jackson, and others. I later learnt that Monali had imposed a no-nudity condition on any show we went to; else we would have had a wider choice on how we spent that evening.

Day-5

This was going to be a very long day. We started at 5 in the morning, taking a bus to the Grand Canyon. Naveen and Monali got into the front seat that was incidentally reserved by someone else, and pissed off the driver. Trust Naveen to say that the driver was rude to him! I had to go to the back, sitting through a long bus ride next to a Japanese tourist who spoke no English. We stopped at Hoover Dam, once for food, and once again at a gift shop, and finally reached the Grand Canyon at 2:30 in the afternoon. It's this freak of nature that has a strange attention grabbing view. I mean, it's not the Taj Mahal, or Mount Everest, or Niagara Falls, and yet, I looked at it, and I kept looking at it. The vastness of this ravine was amazing. No picture I took captured the depth of it in its totality. As if the canyon was not beautiful enough, the brilliant orange color of the setting sun reflecting off the stone was absolutely breathtaking. And if that was not romantic enough, the moon rising from behind the edge of the canyon would have anybody fall to their knees.

At a height of 7000 feet, it became very windy and cold, and Naveen and Monali being residents of sunny California, were just not able to take it. But having come down from Canada, I found it a tad easier. Eventually we made it back to the bus, and were on our long ride back to Vegas. On the way, we stopped again at Hoover Dam to get a view of the dam lit up at night. Back at the hotel at 9:30 in the night, a quick wash, and we were back in action, sight seeing and gambling. It was our last night in Vegas, and nothing could hold us back now.

Day-6

The big attractions that we missed out on were right there, on our hotel rooftop. There was the observation deck and the two jaw dropping thrill rides that protruded out over the edge of the 1150 foot high tower. Naveen and I enjoyed the observation deck. The mid morning view was fabulous. And like always, I was trigger happy. When we got to the thrill rides, I didn't have the stomach to get on them. Those who take the rides must be fearless humans. We got a coffee at the observation deck, and then headed back to the hotel room to pack up and get on with our long drive to San Jose. It was noon and the desert sun was upon us.

Answering my hunger pangs, Naveen first drove up to IHOP just across from our hotel. There was a 30 minute wait for a table. Naveen and Monali decided not to wait for a table, and start driving instead. They said we would stop enroute for food, against my wishes and repeated requests. And what do you know; the traffic on the highway was unbelievable, and we crawled for an hour before we found the first McDonalds. Thank goodness for that, for I know that when I'm hungry, I'm hungry; but when I'm starved, I get cranky. There was so much traffic that it took us 13 hours to get to San Jose instead of the planned 8 hours. We had our own little topics of discussion to while away the time. Monali and I had the longest debate on burping. She was all too grossed by my burps. I couldn't control them, after the big lunch at McDonalds and the big coke. If I have to burp, I burp. Better out than in I say! How do you expect me to control my burp, or subdue it, or make it artificial, and if that's not all, apologise for burping in the company of my dear friends! What's happened to this world? Anyway, I burped my way through, driving her nuts. Naveen was of course smart enough to stay out of the debate. I drove the last leg, like a maniac, fighting sleep and fatigue to the very last mile. Naveen was knocked out cold.

Day-7

Husband and wife were obviously too tired to go to work, so they worked from home. I watched a movie, lazed around, and packed my bags. In the evening, Naveen fried some frozen samosas and made tea for us. At 6.30, my cousin Shachi and her hubby Srikant picked me up and took me to their home. I met her in-laws, and we hit the road again. They were taking me out to dinner, and then to the railway station. We headed to Pasta Pomodoro, about 1 mile from the station. After a wonderful dinner, we drove to the station, only to find that the train was 30 minutes late. According to Srikant, that was enough time for us to get some dessert. So we headed back into San Jose. Now I don't remember the name of the place, but it was all lit up and decorated for Christmas, and it was beautiful and romantic. We got our choice of ice-cream and headed back to the station. There was excitement again, because we were running against time, and my mind was once again throwing images of me desperately rolling behind the train pulling out of the station.

Guess who I saw at the station! Diana! She was returning to Seattle by the same train. How many times in your life do you face such coincidences? Like before, she was a life saver, else I would have been bored to death on that train. The 24 hour journey from Seattle to San Jose starts in the day and the return journey starts at night. The scenery by day this time was mostly of the mountains, all covered in snow and mist, enticing none the less. The train reached Seattle an hour late and the bus that was to take me from Seattle to Vancouver was waiting. I got off at the first stop after crossing the border, and my friends picked me up from there. And what a happy ending that was.

Cheers
Mayur Poddar
@ poddu.com
@ www.67knots.com

So I had planned to start packing my bags and prepare to head home this time of the year. Then again, like my life has been for the past several years, it hardly ever goes as planned. Each time I plan something, small or big, short term or long term, it gets screwed up, and I end up doing things ad-hoc. And this applies evenly across the board. The nice part of it is that it all ends well. Like they say, it all happens for the good. Well, it mostly is good. Sometimes I have to tell myself that it's for the good, and make my peace. Although this format of life keeps things interesting and challenging, and I usually take things in a positive stride, this time around, it's getting to my nerves.

After weeks of preparation for the flight test, when I thought I was almost ready for it, the weather went bad prematurely, and I managed to squeeze 2 flights in 2 weeks. Times like these remind me of Murphy's Law - if anything can go wrong, it will.

Things started to look better, the weather returned to normal, and I got in another 4 flights. But something had to go wrong. Welcome the king of the season, Mr. Viral, bringing along with him, sore throat, headaches, and an overall crummy feeling. He decides to keep me grounded for a week. I battled Mr. Viral with everything in my arsenal - multi-vitamins, additional doses of Vitamin C and Zinc, orange juice, hot water, gargling, Listerine (not sure if that helps, none the less), and rest. This is all keeping in mind my personal conviction to avoid medication unless it's an emergency. My fight paid off. I got up after a week, squeezed in another 3 flights, and this time I felt ready for a flight test.

Now guess what. Something else had to go wrong. Mr. Viral was obviously very unhappy with the way he was dethroned. So he decided to regain his throne, and this time, invite Mr. Weakness to stay with him. Now I have a sore throat, headache, and weakness. Not like a persistent weakness, but let's just say that I had only enough stamina to be up and around for 2 hours, by when I was exhausted.

To make things worse, I get a blasting from mom. I have not been taking care of myself, the stress is the major reason I'm sick, and the tension is giving me those headaches. And all that is according to her. I am made to understand that macaroni and cheese, noodles, pasta and pizza are not a suitable diet for me. No matter how hard I try not to, I have to cook, even if it's only for me. So I bought some vegetables after who knows how long, and started to make mixed vegetable khichdi (Khichdi for the unversed) on a regular basis. I drank more milk and juice and soup. I really fed myself. And all this is probably getting me back on track. Well, back on the health track, and nowhere near my schedule track.

It's that time of the year. Decisions have to be made. And decisions have been made. I am 3 months behind schedule. If I break away now, go home for the winter, I will have to come back next year for another 3 months. Coming back is something I am not at all willing to do. I want to finish this once and for all. Additionally, at this time, I cannot write the Indian license exams either, because without first having a valid foreign license in my hand, I cannot write the license conversion exams in India. Making the trip to India is an overhead expense in itself, something I need to avoid now. People who understand business will know that when you are behind schedule, you also face cost overruns. I can do better this year.

I don't want to make a trip to India without a very good reason. And the best reason I could give at this time is that I am terribly homesick. Well, I have another good reason, but as of now, it is still ambiguous. It's funny when I think about it (or, the irony of it is that), I stumbled upon this new reason during my trip to India last year.

Summarily, I am staying put in Vancouver, till I am done with this training. Yes, the days are getting shorter, and weather is coming down, and it's getting cold and wet on a regular basis. But that's what Canadian winter is all about. I had the privilege of experiencing Canadian winter when I was in Ottawa some 6 years ago. The memories of my frozen nose and an extreme burning sensation in my fingers and toes when I got into the warmth of a bus, after waiting an hour for it, in a foot of snow and the wind howling in my face, at a super cool minus 20C (felt like minus 40), will stay fresh in my mind all my life. Vancouver winter is, according to the locals, mild, compared to Ottawa. It's just going to very gloomy and wet all the time. It doesn't sound very comforting with my state of sickness, and I just have to be strong.

That's enough of me and my sickness. I was watching TV the other day, and heard Have you noticed how childhood is becoming shorter and shorter. And who is to blame for that? Wow! So much was said in this one statement and blunt question. Nobody can deny that childhood has become shorter. And I have thought about this matter, without ever having summarized it so beautifully. Of course, I assume that childhood includes all of your life up to legal adult age. Among family and friends, I have discussed babies talking and walking much sooner, kindergartens already knowing their ABCs, preschoolers being acutely aware of gender differences and having girl-friends and boy-friends, primary school kids using the choicest of abusive language, and so on and so forth. To top the list, I can now say for a substantial percentage of teenagers, that society, morality and age have little or no relevance whatsoever to sex. And I can say all this by just keeping my eyes open to look at the world around me. And of course, the endless spate of sex surveys in our magazines last winter will endorse my statement on teenagers. So what happened here? Then again, is this really an issue? And must somebody be blamed for it? I don't know. I care about the future, much in the interest of my own kids (when I do have any). For India, I could apply one generic term to this situation: westernization.

As long as a change is for the better, everybody would accept it. But how often do we know for sure that a change that looks positive today won't turn out to be a nightmare tomorrow. Few people have the powerful insights to distinguish truly positive changes from shiny fakes. Hopefully all of us will grow to make these recognitions and be able to help in guiding humanity towards everlasting peace and harmony. Isn't that what we really really need?

Speaking of change. Over the last several weeks, I have moved my personal website to a free service called Blogger. I decided to do this for 2 reasons, first being the time+money involved in maintaining my paid website, and second is it's severely degraded performance. The one thing I couldn't setup properly is the subscription to the new website. It looked like it was setup, then it disappeared, then I setup again, it's just a big mess now. So till the time I can setup another subscription mechanism, I will be manually emailing the articles to those of you who were on the original websites subscription list.

The thought of my own kids gets my heart racing. I get this rush when I watch the ads on TV, featuring those cute kids doing their cute things. I'll get my chance someday.

Cheers
Mayur Poddar

I confess that I was on a cooking spree for several months, but am now growing tired of cooking and eating alone. And my only solace is that I have only 3 more months of training to complete before I can get back. Back home. Yup, I've been a little homesick lately. Honestly, I think I feel more than just homesick. But that's something I don't want to discuss just now, probably not the best time or place. Well, the homesick part, that's something I have to deal with on a daily basis now. So much so that last Sunday I had exactly the same menu, that mom has back home, on our catch-up-on-your-sleep, lazy, family-oriented Sundays - cucumber salad (long slices, sprinkled with salt and red chilli, and a dash of lime), moong, bhat, kadhi, and papad. While the familiar taste brought some consolation, I was still eating alone. And I'm scared I may be getting used to that. For the 2 days that my cousin and her family visited Vancouver in July, life was so different. Just being with family takes away all the distress.

On the training front, things are going quite well. I passed the Commercial License written exam. I am now preparing for the Commercial Flight Test. The season is changing and I can only hope that the weather will hold up till I'm finished here. There are no more 35 degree hot summer days, the temperatures are steadily decreasing, the sun is setting earlier, and the clouds linger around longer. Fall - do they call it the season of love? Or was that spring? Anyhow. Currently flying 4 days a week, with 150 hours of total flight time in my logbook, and feeling confident about this flight test, I should be done with it in another 2 weeks.

Once the Commercial License is out of the way, I go on to the last 2 legs of the training - Multi-Engine training (finally get to fly a twin-engine airplane) and Instrument Rating training (flying into clouds). The target, 200 hours, is getting closer and closer. The excitement is building. Unfortunately, due to the bank transfer problems in June and July, I am behind schedule, by as much as 4 weeks. So my previously comfortable target of November has now become a tough one to achieve.

I don't know how many of you got to watch Deepa Mehta's Water. I had the opportunity to watch it here on DVD, and was quite impressed by the movie. The Oscar nomination and 8 other awards, including Best Director, Best Actress, and Freedom of Expression Award, are all well deserved. The sad part is that none of these nominations or awards came from India. The movie was banned in India. I've seen Indian movies in the last 2 to 3 years, including several that portray extreme on-screen violence and sex, sometimes vividly, sometimes veiled, and all that without as much as a parental warning. And I am yet to hear of any movie having been banned on these grounds. But here we have this internationally acclaimed movie, based in 1938, and because it touches religion and caste, it gets banned! Simply outrageous. The people who resolved to have this movie banned are probably still living in 1938, blind to today's India.

Then again, here's something that puts Canada to shame. I live in a town called Ladner. A large part of Ladner is farmland. And for the past few months, owners of one farm have taken it upon themselves to put Ladner in the hall of fame of the stinkiest communities. Each time the wind picks up speed, every person living in the town covers their nose, and gasps for fresh air. The smell is so disgusting, that many residents have fallen sick, mostly with lung and eye trouble, and several want to sue the farm owner for air pollution. In their best interests, all residents keep their doors and windows shut tight. Those who travel through the town would never want to return. And the root source of the stink is, believe it or not, chicken manure. So Ladner is now crowned "the shit farm". So much for the Sundance Pub Wednesday special $3 chicken wings!

And while I'm at it, I might as well lash out at the Indo-Canadian community. If one googles Indo-Canadian crime, several thousand entries turn up. Most of them are about organised crime, gang violence, gun culture, drug abuse and peddling, and last but not the least, domestic violence. Nothing to be proud of at all. Over the last year, there have been several domestic first and second degree murders in the Indo-Canadian community. Some of them were shocking enough to leave me gasping for breath. Consider the case of Manjit Phangali. Her husband has been charged of burning his 4 months pregnant wife and mother of a 3 year old girl, dumping the body in a deserted place, and then reporting to police that his wife is missing. The police has to use dental impressions from the body to identify it. There are numerous such domestic murder cases. Then of course, there are the smart-ass bastards, who will get themselves a bride from India, bring them to Canada, and when they feel like it, throw the wife and kids out, leaving them to fend for themselves. And I thought these things happened only in India. Some people will never change. Excuse me for the language, but a strong point had to be made here.

If Canada as a country has a liberal immigration policy, and yet several legitimate migrant aspirants and other visitor and student visa applications from India are denied entry by Canadian authorities, we now have another strong point to add to the list of reasons for the rejections. Too many Indians, who migrate to Canada, and their lineage, are getting involved in these devious crimes, and every new visa applicant is probably being screened against profiles of known criminals.

Speaking of Canada, the cost of living is getting on my nerves now. Consider the fact that 1 Canadian Dollar will buy me half a litre of water, OR a can of coke, OR a litre of petrol. Compare that to India, where Rupees 40, the equivalent of 1 Canadian Dollar, will buy me 4 big bottles of water, OR 4 big bottles of coke, OR almost 1 litre of petrol. The cheapest loaf of bread costs $2 (Rupees 80) in Vancouver, and Rupees 15 in Bangalore. How about this one: the cheapest pack of 12 condoms costs upwards of $7, which is Indian Rupees 280. The last time I checked in India, a pharmacy was selling packs of 20 for Rupees 80. And wonder of wonders, most of the packs available at the pharmacy in Canada are, Made in India! Just FYI, no, I haven't been conducting a survey on the price of condoms. I was in a store, and just happened to see another example of an economy that is ripping off the residents of the country. No wonder there are hundreds of homeless people in Vancouver. And they call India a poor country!

Cheers
Mayur Poddar