5,4,3,2,1,1,1,1

I've been telling everyone that I'll be leaving by the 15th of March once all our certificates are attested and bank formalities completed. We got the all-clear from the bank on the 16th of March and asked our company to book tickets for the 19th, so we could arrive in Addis on a Monday. They took some time to confirm but finally  called to tell us that the first available tickets were for 20th (Tue) We were thrilled to spend another day wallowing at home but spent all day Monday in a final frantic round of repacking and getting last minute attestations. However, just to prolong the anticipation, we didn't receive the tickets till 5.00 p.m. And what I saw was this.

Flight Information

22 Mar 2012 Ethiopian Air Lines  (ET)  687 Economy (V)   Ethiopian Air Lines Confirmation Number: FGLODC   Depart: Delhi Indira Gandhi Intl (DEL) , Terminal 3 2:45 AM *Baggage: 40 Kilos Fare Basis: VEERTINA Arrive: Bole Airport (ADD), Terminal 2 Addis Ababa 7:10 AM *Contact airline to confirm  baggage allowance. So,of course we promptly stopped all the packing and commenced yet another round of farewells. The brilliant thing is Vishal and Rahul both got to celebrate their joint birthdays together again ( 21st) Also, I contacted a friend of a friend of a friend who is travelling on the same flight and he graciously agreed to take some of our baggage. You would be surprised how less 80 kgs actually is when you are attempting to transport six different types of  dal along with six different textbooks across the Indian Ocean. This is really my last post from Delhi. I swear. See you on the other side.

Goodbye Delhi, Hello Addis Ababa !

I and Vishal are flying to Addis Ababa by Ethiopian airlines tomorrow morning. So, this is my last post from Delhi for a while. I am not sure when and where I will be blogging in Addis because it is going to take a little time to get the internet up and running. Also access to blogspot may be restricted in Ethiopia so I may have to shift to a different site.
The last three months ,since we decided on the move , have been a whirlwind of passports, vaccinations, shopping and more shopping and endless chakkars of government offices for certificate attestation. Now that we are ready to leave the nameless, middle of the night fears have started. First of all, I need to take responsibility for the whole Ethiopian venture. Face it, as enthusiastic as Vishal has been, the whole deal is completely my idea.
I might feel a little better if I had someone available to answer my dozens of mundane queries. But there are still dozens of details I am hazy about.

Exactly how slow and reliable is the internet? I have read pages and pages on the net about ethernet and the new evdo service, broadbands and plug ins. But I am still unclear about the exact situation or maybe I am hoping against hope that the situation is better than it seems. It is exteremely scary to a Google addict like me and a piracy promoter like Vishal to realize that we may have to make some serious lifestyle changes. I think what scares me most is that I may not be able to run to the internet for help for all those funny cases which you just can't figure out. Especially as we are able to carry only a couple of the most vital textbooks with us.

How cold is it going to be ? I know all the temperature charts but will I need a heater ?

What T.V. channels will be available and exactly how expensive is it going to be ?

How freely available are Indian groceries and will I get idly batter anywhere? This is almost as essential as milk because Vihaan sometimes goes for days where he refuses all food other than idli or dosa.

I have been repeatedly advised to carry all required clothes with me. Does that mean no shopping for a year? And can I wear salwar kameez to work or would that be hugely out of place ?

I guess all will be answered in a day. To new beginnings ! (I will complete the toast with St.George's beer tomorrow)

Weddings!

When you have two weddings in quick sucession in the family, then your life becomes a mad whirl of saree buying, blouse stitching, parlour visiting and jewellery matching. If both the weddings are out of town and you are squeezing in a conference in between, resigning your job and orchestrating a trans-continental move, then your life is on steroids.

Roshni, my younger sister got married on the 30^th of January in a traditional Tamil Iyer ceremony. The festivities started   on the 28^th with a cocktail party, followed by the Nitchyathartam or engagement on the 29^th and the wedding on the 30^th. 

Who shines brighter ?

Roshni’s wedding was a far cry from mine because the financial strain was much less. At my wedding every saree and beauty parlour visit was budgeted and accounted for. I remember long discussions over Roshnis sangeet lehenga which cost 5000 Rs at that time. This time you had Appa swanking around like a nouve riche Russian splashing out on hotel rooms and chauffeured taxis. Good times.

Necessary audience participation to maintain interest

Her wedding photos are absolutely sensational because she had two full time professional photographers covering all events as well as a horde of wannabe friends with SLRs and zoom lenses. One of her best friends, Khushi, was wonderfully focussed on documenting every moment of all three days. Sometimes you couldn’t see the homam smoke for the paparazzi !

Introducing the bride and groom

Rahuls wedding was a much more intimate affair. While Roshnis wedding had a predominantly firang flair to it thanks to her and Balajis classmates from Columbia University and Oxford respectively. Rahuls wedding party consisted chiefly of close relatives which meant he had an exceptionally pretty baraat. And Vihaan danced. At the sangeet, at the baraat, and everytime the music played in between. He is definitely over compensating  for parents with two left feet. 

All dressed up

The sangeet at home

When the bridegroom is really happy to get married

Vihaan had an absolutely great time with his cousin Sahil running around, throwing things and taking his first steps towards turning into a little boy tornado. I need to find him more kids his age to play with.

Learning to be a boy

And of course, the wedding

Holiday in the hills

(Written between 31.1.12 - 4.2.12 and posted today - an insight into my modus operandi)

Now obviously I should be writing about my sisters wedding which took place on Monday but I’d rather write about that when I have the photos to upload which won’t be till i reach Delhi. Meanwhile, Vishal and I are in Munnar for two days before proceeding to Cochin for the All India Ophthalmic Society annual meet. We are staying at the Club Mahindra, Munnar which is a rather cool five star-ish place. We have a semi detached cottage to ourself, the views and the buffet meals are fantastic all adding up to a great mini break. The only issue I have is that the walls are paper thin. I woke up with a start this afternoon when my neighbours phone rang, I am not even going to think about what he can hear. ( Afternoon naps – benchmark of any holiday )

Towels arranged as kissing swans on bed. Barf !  

We’ve mostly been lazing around in the resort but set off to visit the Kolukkumalai tea factory this morning. This tea factory was established by the British in 1936 and is situated on top of a mountain accessible only by jeep. I need to mention that the road leading to the factory is a mud track strewn with boulders which makes for an extremely bumpy ride lasting 8 km or around half hour. However the views are great with multiple tea garden photo-ops on the way. The tea garden itself was quaint, they still process tea partially by hand and with the original, century old machines. The place had a sleepy, forgotten and mildly sad air about it with the few women working and the men wandering around already drunk at noon. A far cry from the briskly efficient Warren tea factories I have seen in Tinsukhia. 

"Enclosed by tea leaves" photo taken by our jeep driver. In reality we are standing by the road side behind one scrawny tea bush. DIY trick photography. 

Aforementioned instrument of torture

I was supposed to have posted that two days back but didn’t. The day after the jeep ride I woke up with every muscle in my torso and back stretched and sore. So if you are loosely jointed with poorly toned musculature, I would advise giving the trip a miss.

We next reached Cochin by road. Due to usual hospital inefficiency, we didn’t have any accommodation booked but I’d asked my father to book us a room at the Railway rest house. This turned out to be right next to Ernakulam Junction so we ended up wandering on to the station to buy newspapers and coffee. All for 32 Rs a day. Made me rather nostalgic for the good old Indian Govt parasite days.

It was great meeting all our friends again, face it, AIOS is definitely more about socializing than higher intellectual pursuit. No small amount of Ethanol has traversed my system in the past week. First, Roshnis cocktail party, then at Munnar ( Its a tea plantation hill station, the ghosts of the erstwhile planters expect you to get mildly pickled after sundown ) and then all the reunion dinners. Vishal is continuing the party at an alumni dinner on a ferry with all the usual suspects.

I last visited Cochin almost 10 years back and I have a residual memory of Chinese fishing nets against the sunset and a lazy backwater cruise winding slowly  between sleepy villages. Kids ran along the boat on the banks while the firangs tanned on the decks. On this visit, the city seemed a lot more grubby with more touts and dreadlocked Israeli tourists. The food in the Fort Cochin Goa-esque shacks were nothing much to write about either. I really couldn’t understand the appeal of the city to all the tourists either, unless they use it as a base for short trips to Allepey or Munnar.

Oh, my talks went off well. As well as can be expected with an audience of ten people in a hall with a capacity of three hundred . The lethal combination of paediatric ophthalmology and community ophthalmology helped to exponentially decrease the level of popularity of the course and keep the audience at bay. It didn’t help matters that the AIOS quiz was taking place simultaneously. Oh well.

I am in Cochin airport waiting for my flight back to Delhi. For the first time, I’ve really missed Vihaan over the last couple couple of days and am looking forward to cuddling up with him tonight. A world with soft cheeks , curly hair and that indefinably sweet baby smell is a good place to be in.

How to Delaminate a certificate in three easy steps

I will come to the reason for stripping our precious degrees of their protective covering later. First let me solve a mystery which even Google and Wiki couldn’t answer definitively. If you Google “ How to remove lamination from a certificate” you get a lot of information on the lamination process , some wet blankets ( can’t be done, just apply for a new certificate ) and a couple of bravehearts who suggest dipping your certificate in hot water or even better, solvent. Ads for professional certificate delaminators also pop up from Cochin to Dhaka.

But here ladies and gentlemen is the patented ( not to mention tested ),painless, totally guaranteed, five minute  method of DIY delamination.

Equipment needed – Certificate to be delaminated ( duh ! ), a sharp pair of scissors and a hair dryer

Step 1

Cut the edge of the plastic as close to the certificate as possible without cutting the paper.

Step 2

Carefully examine the cut edge and find a gap between the plastic and the paper. Enlarge the gap with your nail or a safety pin, taking care not to peel paper.

Step 3

Use the hair dryer to gently heat the cut edge and carefully peel off the plastic. I think the heat melts the adhesive and makes the process totally smooth.

Ta-dah !

1001 ways to get cheated in Delhi

So, I was driving to work today morning and realized I was driving on an empty tank. I swung into my regular petrol station which is the Indian Oil outlet on the left just after crossing the Chirag Delhi flyover ( driving from Saket to Moolchand or south to north ). I parked, handed over my debit card and asked the attender to fill 1000 Rs worth of petrol. As usual, the attender went to swipe my card while the second attender started filling the petrol. Being of a suspicious nature, I made sure the display was set at zero before he started. I sat in the car and watched the numbers climbing. The display showed 800 Rs when the first attender came back and handed me the bill to sign. My attention diverted, I turned to take the bill. Then some instinct made me look at the screen again and I saw the second attender swiftly terminate the transaction when only 848 Rs worth of petrol had been filled!

I hope you are able to appreciate the truly heinous, fiendish and diabolical nature of the crime. Even more so when you realize that this isn’t a petty crime committed by the employee but probably an regular practice instituted by the management to make money. Think of how much their profit margins must shoot up if they are able to cheat even 5% of their customers a day. The attenders are probably tipped at the end of the day based on the amount of petrol saved. Just one more instance of how deeply entrenched corruption is in our society.

What happened next ? I created a ruckus but no senior personnel were available on the premises. I left my card and number and asked the management to get in touch with me and left without signing my bill. I have googled the owner of this particular petrol station and intend to call him to lodge an official complaint. Although I am sure that the only actual action I am going to take would be to change petrol stations and to watch the metre like a hawk in future.

Update – I called up and talked to the owner, a sweet old man who rambled on & on about the sad story of his life, his ill health, his children who neglect him, his bank loans and of course his swindling employees and then started sobbing on the phone. Lesson learnt – Old age is a bitch and I am a horrible person who makes old men cry.    

The details

OK, so after the last bombshell, I guess I should flesh out the announcement a bit. I had been feeling mildly discontented in my current job, mostly because now that I had stopped having palpitations and sleepless nights before every OT, I had started feeling a little restless. Also it has been more than two years since I moved to Delhi, so a bit of dreariness there too. We have been seriously contemplating starting our own ophthalmic clinic but (a) that needs truckloads of money (b) that sounds serious ass grownup, right up there with preparing for your kids school interview ( yeah, thats going to happen soon enough )
So, I came up with a ridiculous plan to move to Africa, then I dressed it up in practical, sensible terms to convince Vishal ( Our salary will be tax free! We won't need to take a loan! We can start Vihaans college fund ! ) As luck would have it, we immediately got a good offer and after some intense negotiations and inept bargaining we have decided to move to Addis Ababa. I am not going to tire of saying that for a while. Sometimes I wake up grinning in the middle of the night.