After catching cold it was my turn to catch the morning flight to Hyderabad on my way to Goa to attend a College reunion on the occasion of the 35th Anniversary of passing out from NIT (them REC), Rourkela. Engineered for fun, I reached the Airport around 7.30 AM in the morning, standing in line for my id and boarding pass to be checked by the security in order to get into the Airport (unlike in USA where you can straight walk to the check in counter, in India there is an additional layer of security to get inside the airport. Only bonafide passengers and airport staff are allowed inside Airport).
Suddenly a young girl proudly cut the line going ahead of me in line, barging in front of me sliding her pink colored hand luggage. I promptly protested - "You are cutting the line ma'am". Rather than sending a polite apology or its milder version sorry, or even remaining quite, he retorted back - "I didn't see you". Irritated, I replied - "What do you mean by not seeing me standing ahead of me in queue ? Are you blind" ? "Oh, you don't have to be so rude". I replied back - "I don't have to, but I have". She twitched her cheek, gave me a sneer and melted into the crowd already reeking with passengers travelling on a long weekend (Friday, January 23 is a holiday here due to Saraswati Puja, Monday, January 26 is holiday as the Republic day).This is my first trip in India where I was not taking a direct flight to my destination, rather transferring/connecting through Hyderabad en route to the final destination Goa. First time at Hyderabad Airport, found it swankier compared to Bhubaneswar Airport. There were a lot of stores, restaurants around the boarding gates. Restrooms were clean. (Like a dog I peed at the Airport to leave my mark at Hyderabad before catching my Airplane to Goa).
It was my initial thought that cutting line was limited to Bhubaneswar only. The same happening during the security check of passengers at Hyderabad Airport transferring to the connecting gates. Folks were trying to sneak in between to snatch the trays to put their bags, belts, electronic items on them and put them ahead of you. I politely asked one guy not to cut ahead of me. He gave me "didn't har you" kind of look. But when a 6 feeter CISF personnel with a Walrus moustache standing nearby warned the passengers, every one fell in line. More than my polite request, a cop's high pitched voice was heard loud and clear by co-passengers.
It was middle of afternoon when my flight from Hyderabad landed at the Dabolim Airport in South Goa. OLA and Uber Cabs aren't available in Goa, thanks to the locally Unionized Cab association. The pre-paid Taxi looked so seventies, with worn out seat and dusty interior. No wonder lack of competition and options impacts quality and breeds inefficiency. The taxis are Goa Airport best vindicated this fact. The old car with a struggling Airconditioning trudged its way to Sarovar Sea Breeze Fatrade Resort in Varca area of South Goa, maneuvering through the narrow lanes and bylaness.
I took a peek outside to look around the hilly terrains filled with a labyrinth of old style houses. The milieu of Goa looks like a sophisticated version of Puri, minus the filth. I saw signs of "Garibi" (poverty), but hardly any "Gandgi" (trash). The afternoon flow of vehicles was orderly, no zigzag traffic, hardly any honking of horn, bulls. I saw fewer pariah dogs on road compared to Bhubaneswar. Locals looked dark, short and stout but all smiling. Didn't see any female in Saree attire, they wore western dress, long flowing scott.
The houses were made up of concrete with red tiled rooftops, had big walls, tall iron gates protecting the protruding TAGARA, MANDARA (hibiscus) flowing trees, Mango trees filled with BAULA (sprouting blossoms), guava, coconut and betel nut trees ladden with construction dust. Not a single wall had any lover's public proclamation of eternal love - "Harry loves Sally" or " Harish loves Savita". Didn't see any stacks of shit, nor anybody peeing or squatting by roadside. Only difference, in Goa you see as many churches as you see temples in Puri or Bhubaneswar.
It was a heartfelt moment filled with nostalgic memories to be greeted by a banner proudly proclaiming the Reunion of 1990 batch Rengcolian (as NIT, or old REC Rourkela guys are called). Meeting many after years, some after passing out from the college 35 years ago, I noticed that all of us have gracefully aged, more graying and receding hairlines. Excited by meeting each other after a long hiatus, few of us went an extra yard at the hotel lobby hopping towards each other like a triple jumper athlete with spring on their feel to embrace each other,
Done with meet and greet, it was sun set time and time for us to gather at the resort lobby to travel to Ouzo Delmar Banquet Varca beach in South Goa where Goan dance show plus music plus karaoke plus gala dinner with drinks awaited us. Bar, Beach and Barbecue in Goa is incomplete without shaking legs. Us Rengcolians on the wrong side of their 50s and arguably in the last throes, we are without any argument the best dancers on earth. For many of us, it was the last occasion to swing and tweak our hips and legs as a group before arthritis takes over.
Goa is a foodie's paradise, especially those who love seafood. The are known for excellent Sea Food preparation. Fish is called "Machhi" which sounds more like Makhee (flies), rather than Machhli is Suddh Hindi. They speak a sweet Konkani mixed Hindi. It was close to midnight when I dragged by tired torso, but high on spirit to my hotel room. I had a pretty long eventful day and slept through the night till 7 O'clock in morning. After exactly a week my jet lag was over. More later...
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