Back in the UK

A day has passed since I returned to the UK. After a horridly delayed flight, I was almost completely drained out when I rang the calling bell. 30 hours. That is what it took me to reach my door in Reading. Arnab opened the door with the same old innocent smile. He had returned 9 days before me and seemed to have fixed himself into place. As far as I was concerned, things were still in IST. Jet lag is usual. One deep sleep is all it takes to get back.

Questions at the immigration is usually the most interesting part of an Indian's trip to the EU. I do understand why but they pose as if they don't trust anybody. As if everybody coming in about to rob them of their 10 quids in a bet. They shoot questions as if out of personal interest and actually pretend if they are asking a very genuine question. "So where is University of Reading", the guy at the immigration asked me. "At Reading", I replied. "Reading is not in London,right?",he asked again. "Could have saved on 15 pounds and one hour had it been in London", I responded. Just to let him know that I knew how much a RailAir bus ticket from London to Reading costed. "Alright, here is your passport and good luck.Cheers!", he said with a smile which said he was convinced.

As I entered my room, I gave a sigh. Not of relief completely, but a mixture of home-sickness and realization of the challenges lying ahead of me. It is my convocation on the 4th of July. Have worked really hard for one year for the scroll they hand over on that day. Big day. And if asked to summarize the experience over the past one and a half years, two words would be ample enough - "Life changing".

I dropped my bag onto my bed making sure my lap inside would turn on when I switch it on. I'm pretty sure my bag would have shouted "Thank you so much. Now for heaven sake go take a shower!!!" if it had a mouth. And I knew there wasn't much I could have responded with. ;). The Bhagavat Gita I carry along with me was the first thing I took out from my bag. There are few things that are constantly on the move with me. Mostly gifts from friends and relatives. The most recent addition to this collection is a novel. "COMA" by Robin Cook. The person who gifted me the book had written their name on the first page. Every time I miss this person, all I do is open this book and read the name. It somehow brings a smile on my face. Let me tell you...THERE IS MAGIC IN THIS WORLD!!!

A shower and a cup of coffee is all I wanted to end the day. The caffiene doesn't have much influence on my sleeping habits. It has been that ways since school days. Soon I plunged myself into the comforts of my bed. The next lap was about to commence.

"This is the final call for..."

"This is the final call for flight no. blah blah blah (read out as slowly as possible). All passengers are requested to go immediately to gate no.XX where the flight is ready to depart." I doubt if there could be an even more annoying dialogue when your own connecting flight has been delayed for 7 bloody hours. I have been sitting in this waiting lounge for 2 hours now. Another 3 hours to go. After 2 hours of heavy duty shopping (the prefix "window" may be taken for granted) there is nothing much you could do at an airport.


Almost all security guards seemed to move around with a face that said "My dad built this airport when I was 7". And all the cleaners move around as if they were secret agents under cover...raising their eye-brows and moving the mop in very slow zig-zag fashion...as if they are thinking all the time...;)...or expecting something to go wrong any second.

The only good thing that happened today was the short chat with the arab model who was standing near the Jaguar, which is supposed to be the prize of the lucky draw. As I was taking a pic of the Jag, I asked her how much the ticket costed..."50 BHDs" she replied with a sparkling smile. "Go ahead...take one" she said with a tone which said she knew I would nt take one unless given away for free. And I must say she was spot on. 50 BHDs!!! I must be barking mad if I buy one of those.If my maths isn't bad 50 BHDs is somewhere around 85 pounds. 6400 indian rupees!!! That money could be used for something creative or useful instead of being wasted away in lottery.

To add to my irritation the guy sitting near me has just started snoring. I even doubt if he is doing it deliberately to irritate me. I better find another place to sit. "This is the final call for...". Damn.