Welcome Home!

We arrived at Lax's parent's mid-town apartment about 4am Hybad time. As it was so late, it had been decided that I would head to Lek's place tomorrow.

No matter that the hour was so late, or so early as the case may be, the entire household was up and ready to visit. Everyone crowded into Maataaji and Pitaaji's bedroom for hugs -- even I was herded in with the whole family to be introduced.

We then moved the party into the living room, where we talked and laughed. The room had large windows onto a huge terrace on the front side, and french doors onto a service terrace on the back side, creating a nice cross-breeze. A strong three-paddle fan overhead added to the cooling.

We sat around on two sofas and some chairs, and when the crowd became so large we pulled in some plastic chairs. There was Lax's sister Pad, BIL Satish, brother Venky, SIL Anu, SIL's mother, niece Geethi. Plus the five of us, and some others as well. Maataaji got out of bed and joined us.

We drank sweet chai and ate snacks (somehow I don't have notes of what we ate!). Both Padma and Venky have big personalities, so there was lots of kidding and joking.

I was made so welcome. I closed my eyes and ignored the language around me. I could have been with family in South Carolina, in Queens, in Germany, in Charlotte. I felt like part of the family. We sat there talking until 6am.

Then the girls went home with Pad and Satish, and Lax, Yesh and I feel onto a large bed in a well cooled room for a nap before the traditional arrival morning dosa breakfast.

I feel asleep immediately, but Lax and Yesh got back up to enjoy an Hyderabad sunrise.

Arrivals

After a loud and joyful greeting, filled with introductions and hugs all around, we headed down a ramp and out into the sultry night.

The first car was in a close-by parking lot, and we took lots of time positioning the bags, filling the trunk and back seat to bursting. I noticed that some Indian cars have back up signals -- like garbage trucks in the US -- except instead of the generic "beep… beep… beep" we're used to, these cars have pizazz, style.

"Bee dee boop boop dee…. Bee dee boop boop dee".

The scrambled egg wrap still a hot coal in my gut, so I sat on a curb until Mellissa started screaming about a giant bug getting ready to jump on me. Can it be that she's never seen a roach????

Three folks crammed into the front seat of the loaded down car and drove away.

We pushed the cart with the remaining bags to a parking lot a little further away. I noticed folks lounging on the grass in the night… I guess they were waiting for arrivals as they had more of a 'lounging in the grass' look, than a 'living in the grass' look.


We loaded up and took to the highway, heading into town. 

The Greasing of Palms

At some point between the hatch and the ultimate break for freedom we had thrown our bags on a conveyor belt for a final scan, and as I walked by the machine I noticed a stack of fliers strewn on top. I took one with the intent to look at it later.

We moved out into another large hall and I thought we would just walk through, but Yesh waved us to stop while he chatted with some official looking guy in uniform. We stood and waited.

Yesh walked back toward us asking if Lax had rupees. She didn't, but luckily I had the stash Atit had given me.

We looked through the various pastel bills to see what I had. "Give me a thousand," Yesh said.

He walked back to Uniform Guy, slid him the thousand, and waved us through. As we were walking past I noted incredulously that Uniform Guy was not even attempting to play it cool with the greasing of his palm, and was instead laughing and showing the bill to the other Uniform Guys.

Later at baggage pickup Yesh told us that we had neglected to fill out a specific form, and Uniform Guy was threatening to search all our bags. A quick bribe was the quickest way to get out of the airport. (Thanks, Atit, for the currency, and the bribe prep!)

We gathered our ten bags, turned a corner, and were surrounded by Lax's family.

The Happy Diplomat Agent and Anger Man

Lax took over the conversation, explaining that we had been given these sheets on the plane, we have no knowledge of any smaller sheet, and we were told to bring our big sheets to the first desk.

The Diplomat Agent smiled and waggled and took my passport and sheet. He checked my visa. He then began to systematically fold my big sheet, hiding the unnecessary questions and/or bigness, until it was small. Then he scanned it on his small sheet scanner.

Rocket science.

The five of us were standing in a group at the Diplomat Desk, as we were all travelling together. The Happy Agent was processing our passports and sheets one by one. Folding efficiently, as if he does it daily.

And then I felt a chill invading my personal space to my right. Anger Man was standing too close, shoving his passport and sheet to the Happy Agent, clearly trying to jump the line on Those-Whose-Fault-It-Is. His quick aggressive movements had drawn the attention of others and shortly Happy Diplomat Agent was mobbed with passport pushers.

As my administrivia was finished I disengaged from the mob, and the overwhelming gloom of Anger Man, and headed toward the Promised Land.

The Big Sheet

An hour before our descent, one of the metro flight attendants came through the cabin handing out sheets to fill out. I think they were customs declarations… not really sure. It was basically half vertically of a standard 8.5 by 11 inch sheet.

As US citizens, Lax also had to fill out the sheet.

When we landed and disembarked I followed Yesh through the standard airport rabbit warren that International travelers worldwide negotiate before being allowed unfettered into the country. We entered a long airy hall with a high ceiling and a row of ten+ desks along the right.

We walked past a lonely looking agent with a large placard "Diplomats", down the row to the first available customs agent, passports and sheets in hand, and passed them over to the agent.

"Too big," he said.

"What?" Lax and I said.

"Too big. This sheet is too big. You need the smaller sheet."

"We don't know about any other sheet. This is what they gave us."

"Who gave?"

"On the plane."

"Go to the first desk," the agent pointed.

"What?"

"Go to the first desk. Go." He pointed again. (I flashed on Russell Peters - "Take it and go".)

So we trudged as a group back to the first desk, passports and giant sheets in hand, and there was no agent at the first desk. The lonely gentleman at the second desk -- "Diplomat Desk" -- smiled, waggled his head and waved us over. I looked over my shoulder and found no one behind, touched my hand to my chest. "Me?"

He smiled and waggled. So we went to the Diplomat desk.