June 12, 2011:
Day 1:
I get up in the morning, looking forward to the day more than I had looked forward to anything for quite some time. My first flight. When I was a kid I used to pester my dad, “take me on a plane” and he used to say “you will go on a plane with your own money someday”. I can’t figure who is the prouder between the two of us today .I reach the airport a good two and a half hours in advance, ”first timer’s eagerness” or something they call it. I have this weird feeling my luggage is going to be more than the allowed 20 kilograms . Yeah, I worry about everything. That’s my favourite pastime. I heave a big sigh of relief when the woman at the check-in counter hands me my boarding pass and tells me its only 14 kgs. I go back to the gate to say bye to my parents who are probably more scared than I am. I find it a little strange that my parents still worry so much about me given the fact that I have been in a boarding school and stayed in hostels since as far as I can remember. But then I guess that’s what makes them parents. They worry too, seems sort of a family favourite, “worrying”. The security check goes off smoothly. As I sit in the departure lounge, I chance upon a friend. Feels good to see a known face in the midst of so many unknown ones. I am taken to the plane in a bus along with all the other passengers. I can’t remember the last time I was so excited about something. I get on the plane. I am looking for my seat when the airhostess turns up beside me and helps me find it. Yeah, she is cute, in case you were wondering. She smiles as I take my window seat. I am on a cloud even before the plane has taken off. Then I remember that’s her job. Heck, the smile still counts. Little did i know she was the last good looking girl i was going to encounter for sometime now.I listen to the announcements carefully and watch the cabin crew showing us how to put on our oxygen masks et al so intently that the gentleman on my side can’t help but ask with a smirk “first time eh”? I start looking out of the window trying not to look too eager. As much I try I can’t suppress a smile as the flight takes off. Yeah, I am flying with my own money. I can’t really hear much as the noise increases. I don’t eat anything the entire journey. Being the miser that I am, I am too scared about the prices. The in-flight Jet Airways magazine is a wonderful read. I discover the origins and existence of many rare Indian musical and dance forms. We cross the ocean just prior to landing. The view is splendid. I start worrying as soon as I land as to whether my luggage has arrived as safely as me. Thankfully it did. I call up the head of the local NGO that is helping the company I am interning with, with the field work. Mr.Loganathan tells me his staff should be there outside the airport with a placard saying “ASSCOD”. That’s the NGO’S name. I still think having my name there would have made more sense. Thankfully, I find Mr.Muddu easily enough and along with my co-intern, Ankit proceed to the field office. Mr.Muddu speaks fluent English, a sigh of relief again. Ankit’s already been here for a week and he tells me he has thought of quitting more than once. I wonder how bad it could be. I have no idea that I am going to find out sooner than I expected. We stop for lunch at a hotel along the highway. The place is filled with local people who seem to be thoroughly enjoying the food. I have been warned to expect some sour stuff in every dish and I decide to play it safe. I order a veg. biryani. There are very few non.veg restaurants here, I notice. The simple task of placing an order can get really tough if both sides involved have no idea what the other is saying. We get Mr.Muddu to place our order. He ends up arguing with the waiter, I have no clue about the cause. My biryani arrives along with some sour stuff, probably raita. I decide to ignore it. Ankit’s complaining about how these people don’t put salt while making the chapattis or something. An hour’s drive later we reach Madhuramkatam, the place where we are supposed to be put up. The town, as the locals calls it, ends before I can roll down my windows properly. We are put up at a lodge. The rooms remind of 8*10 prison cells. Ankit looks at me with a “I told you so” look. A couple of hours into the internship and I want to quit. Then I remind myself about the money and I am ready to fight again. The stuff money does to people eh. I go to was my hand s and end up getting partly burnt. The water is that hot. Ankit suddenly rushes into my room and warns me not to open any taps till dusk. A little earlier would have been great brother. We get talking. He starts off with his “IIT-B” stories. At that point of time it seemed like Jeffrey Archer himself was telling me stories. I have hardly ever been so glad to hear someone talk. He was speaking in a language that I knew. He takes me to a fast-food place, run by a North-Indian family in the evening. Bhel puris have never appealed to me so much in my entire life and I doubt they ever will. Ankit wants to check out the movies on my laptop. He seems a tad disappointed at my lack of Bollywood fare. I try making him watch “scent of a woman”. 15 minutes into the movie he gives up. We finally settle on “Blood diamond”. I love this movie so I don’t mind watching it again. We leave the movie halfway as we prepare to “hunt” for dinner, quite literally. We find a bus going to Karunguzhi, where he assures me there is a good eatery. By the time we get the conductor to understand where we want to get down we are two stops ahead already. The conductor is shouting at us.The hate towards us, Hindi speaking people is palpable.Talk about prejudice eh, these people give the word a whole new dimension. We get down and after walking twenty minutes in the opposite direction finally locate the hotel. The masala dosa costs Rs. 45.41.I am not kidding. We decide to have that and coffee. I ask the waiter how much the coffee cost. He replies “five minutes” and walks away. I have no idea how to react. Halfway through our meal the waiter gets us our bill and tells us there are people waiting. I am not sure whether I should leave without finishing my food. I decide to eat in peace as I wasn’t really understanding much of what the waiter was shouting anyway. There are no more buses running. We decide an auto would be too expensive and decide to instead walk back to our lodge. We regret the decision as we reach after walking for almost 40 minutes. We finish the movie. I whine about my miserable life to anyone who calls me up. My balance almost finishes. I decide to get a local sim card somehow tomorrow. I put on pink Floyd and begin writing this. I listen to “money” once again before sleeping. I am hoping this song will keep me going.
