The story of the sacred ash

It was exactly 7 days ago that I was forcibly pulled out of my slumber at 11 in the morning by a mobile call. The caller said I had to start to the US the same night. All the airliners thought otherwise and I started two days later. What ensued were yawns. A lot of them – throughout the 30 hour journey: two long 10-hour flights with 4 hours of waiting time between them, and a flight for 3 hours, and then a taxi for an hour. To say that I was a dead-meat was an understatement. Infact, that was the word the non-stop chatter Pakistani cab driver used to describe my state. His other words of wisdom I recollect were “never listen to Indian/Pakistani parents”, “Punjabi and South Indian girls are beautiful” etc.

I’m positive I heard that right.

It was a little disturbing thought that I myself had to book the hotel room, find cabs at airport, check-in and find something to eat day-in and day-out etc in a country that I’m visiting the first time, but knowing the language (in and out) was a real morale booster.

The United States is exactly what I see in the movies. But what no one told me (or what I didn’t inquire properly) was that if you are all alone, there is absolutely nothing you can do without a car. Irrespective of where you stay, the next restaurant, or the pizzeria, or the burger king, the Wal-mart, the Pakistani owned Indian store, or the office, is miles away. With establishments spread across a very wide area, there is nothing public transport can accomplish. Taxis are not a daily option, since you have to pay a BOMB. I did try walking, but I quickly realized I was the only one on the roads and the only other people who walk are African Americans. Some rogues in a passing car also shouted "Immigrant" something at me. In short, if you are in the US, you need a car. Nothing else would come close. If anyone who’s reading this is expecting a trip to the US, get yourself an International Drivers Permit. Or be prepared to get screwed. You don't really have to know driving coz all the cars are Automatic Transmission. Driving here is a joke for Indians.

As for me, I didn’t have an International Drivers Permit. But thanks to our British cousins who invaded our country, my Indian driving license was in English and that worked in the state I visited. I rented a brand new (ok, its done 7000 miles) Automatic Chevy Cobalt. I’ve promised myself a new brand of car or SUV every fortnight. This is dream country. There are fast cars. There are big, wide roads. Fuel is cheaper than in India. They give you all sorts of cars for rental. And places are REALLY far apart. Beat the combination!

It’s time I tell the story of the sacred ash. Those who would’ve read my previous post would know my level of belief in a supreme deity. But thanks to my pious background, I have small paper packs of sacred ash in my entire luggage – including the laptop. And when I opened my laptop at a security gate in my office this fine morning, one little pack fell off. A camera stocked in some corner recorded it. A guy sitting behind a monitor got something to tell his boss after - I don’t know - may-be years. When the security guy came and told me something ‘suspicious’ fell off my laptop and it needs a little explanation, I thought it was straight from the movies. But I did go and see the pack containing God’s sacred ash and explained about India, Indians, temples, South-Indian temples, and sacred ashes.

And all of us had a good laugh.