It was the last day of Dr Abdul Kalam the influential President of Republic of India. He held his office for 5 years almost during the economic growth and none other than Dr Kalam could have been the ideal fit for the job. In a nation where a President is merely a rubber stamp and lavishes his power only during the times of emergency, Dr Kalam’s contribution as a politician has revolutionized the necessity for many greater things.

Somnath Chatterji the Speaker was addressing the end note on the occasion to sign off the wonderful tenure of the great visionary. The national anthem was playing in its full intrinsic worth and I could almost see tears flowing out of Dr Kalam’s eyes.

It was raining in Bangalore with my family unwillingly admitting my departure date and trying their best to consol themselves by the normal argumentative Indian manner. The dinner was cooked and the final taste of masala dosa with the very famous chutney was served. I was caught in a paradox to choose between the Kalam speech and Masala Dosa, but ended up making up my mind for the later for obvious reasons.

No sooner than I tore one piece of serving from the enormous masala dosa the power gods wanted to give me a surprise. As my mom’s prediction goes, every single time when I want to travel there should be some mishap relating to power, water (rain) or traffic jam. The alarm bells started ringing inside the minds of my family with my grand mothers panicking about my flight to Singapore due to a power cut at home. I always wondered how the hell on earth they figured out a connection but it seemed so that they always did.

The gods where called upon, the baggage’s blessed, the sacred water pronounced, prayers emerged, gods enunciated, the fire emerged (deep), the ash or vibuti was rubbed against my forehand in making a small mark to pronounce that I will be blessed, and a small one rupee coin was left at the gods footsteps (an old tradition which my family follows).

There seems to be an instant connection or a perfect correlation between the power gods and the “real” gods. The fan instantly began to swing blowing a gentle yet strong breeze through the room and there seemed to be an aura of sacredness in the atmosphere, almost immediately my grandmother pronouncing it was the prayer.

As a child I was always disciplined. I was beaten, scolded at, sometimes even not spoken to for doing deeds that ought not to be done. Ever since I have an instant connection between my producer (dad) in association to personal management. This is just to explain about my dad’s stringent time management skill. The moment I arrived in Bangalore I was asked the time and date of my return flight and was been noted in all the available calendars at home. If they found anything with 23^rd July there would have been a mention of Bharath’s Departure. There seemed to be an imperial view of the understanding of when I left.

So from two days there were discussions surrounding the time I should leave home to get the airport to check-in my baggage on time, which obviously was three hours before the three hours time specified. Now it’s a surprise if I mentioned I was one and half hours early to the airport with my parents gaping at the void screen looking for the announcement of any sort.

After having fourteen coffees and seven teas, the television that was hung at the HAL Airport blinked once. Before I began to conclude that the announcement is near there was a tweak sound generated and it went into obscurity by showing me a blank screen.

Smoke emerged from all directions making me wonder about the chances of fire. But just as about my thought process struck insignificant heights I was brought by the power of mosquito repellent smell. My dad gazed at me and used these words “You bleady NRI’s”. I was taken aback from his reaction, nevertheless I was under the impression that they had uprooted the airport to Chingulahalli (a town 200kms from Bangalore).

The silver lining among my dad’s inclusiveness was my ability to check in 32kgs of baggage as opposed to the permitted 20kgs. Despite the generosity of the lady at the counter, I was conveyed that I would be permitted to carry only one baggage as a hand baggage and my laptop would be considered within that. Wondering from one side of the brain if I could sneak in and getting convinced from another side that I would be able to, I jumped on the escalator which took me into the upper most corridor of the HAL Airport.

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