Some thoughts on the media

I often find it hard to understand the news, these days. The same event is, more often than not, reported in different ways: sometimes diametrically opposite. I therefore find myself reading from multiple sources to arrive at my own conclusion of what may have happened. I take the trouble of doing that, but a lot of people either don’t have the time or the inclination (or both) to do that.

Another thing that I find problematic is the noise in the news. It is very hard to separate the facts out of the loud and theatrical monologues, interrupted by bickering “panels”, that pass of as “News Hours”. These typically seem to end in utter confusion and chaos. 

A third issue is the cardinal issue of the separation of church and state: in this case, the separation of opinion pieces from factual news. I am unsure of what editorial authority means, but in my opinion, this should not include colouring of news articles. The political views of the news organisation may inform opinion pieces and editorials, but not the reporting of news. News organisations, more than anything else, are a crucial pillar of democracy and for prevention of tyranny. Trust in news organisations is therefore critical, as we can see from examples all over. I think that it is also crucial to have more than one news organisation (preferably the majority of news organisations) which the vast majority consider as fair. The numbers will help the news organisations reinforce each other in fairness of reporting. Given the weight of responsibility, it is not enough to be fair; it is also important to be seen as being fair.

Finally, there is the question of volume. TV channels have a need to fill 24 hours of air-time and are available at the press of a button or through apps in smartphones. Online news providers have Petabytes of space to play around with to create articles useful and otherwise, and are ubiquitous. Newspapers, on the other hand, must present news in 15-30 pages and are delivered only once a day. A newspaper would therefore only contain news which is actually newsworthy. To top it off, the once a day delivery of news means that there is no room for the hourly cycle of outrage. People tend to be efficient when they have less resources to work with.

I sometimes wonder if having everything free is one of the problems. Charge content and service consumers by the byte and people will surely prioritise. It is hard to miss the irony in publishing a rant on why content should be charged, on a free to create/free to consume blog. Maybe these thoughts are not worthy of public consumption. If they are, people may not mind paying for it on a paid consumption platform.

Nandi Hills and back... Well, almost.

It was on a fine Thursday morning that I made the big decision. Jp and I were having breakfast at the office cafeteria. One of the regular office cyclists, Prakash Mahendran, had come over for his breakfast. Jp went over to have a chat with him. He came back asking if I wanted to join them for a cycling trip to Nandi Hills.

My brain must have stopped whirring for a moment, for I said yes. Now, to put things in context, the maximum distance I had cycled was 20 kilometers with a five minute break at the halfway point. Nandi hills and back was a cool 140 kilometers. I must admit that I had doubts whether I would last beyond 20 to 30 kilometers, but decided to give it a shot none the less.

The starting time for the trip was set at 04:30 am on Saturday, the 10^th of May, 2014. I could barely contain my excitement for the next two days. I had heard fascinating stories of treks, but had always wondered why people pay to put themselves to hardship. I would finally get an answer of sorts.

The alarm on my mobile phone went off at 04:00 am, as scheduled. I set about getting ready for the trip. Half an hour later, Jp arrived and we set off armed with our bikes, three Snickers, a bottle of water and a few Paracetamol tablets. We met Prakash on the way and set off towards Nandi Hills. Our plan was to go via Mekhri Circle on to Hebbal, Devanahalli and somewhere along the Hyderabad highway take the deviation to Nandi Hills.

The weather was forecast to be cloudy and overcast; the perfect weather for cycling. We quickly pedaled away and soon reached Hebbal, where we turned on to the airport highway. The highway was miles of uninterrupted bliss, unlike the energy sapping stop and go city roads. At Hebbal, we met a group of slow cyclists on their way to Nandi Hills. I made a mental note of how good I was compared to that bunch. We sped past and they soon became the proverbial speck in our non-existent rear view mirrors.

The miles went by and we were averaging what felt like a healthy 25 km/hr. The ride was surprisingly easy on the highway. We reached the airport toll which is about 40 kilometers away in less than two hours. That did my confidence a world of good, as it was far beyond anything I had expected to be able to do. At the toll, we turned on to the Hyderabad highway and continued pedaling at a brisk pace. Around 15 to 20 kilometers later we exited the highway and turned North-West towards Nandi Hills road.

We took a quick 5 minute break stretching ourselves, and with them seasoned cyclists querying how I was holding up. I was just one Snicker bar and half a bottle of water down at this point and promptly informed them that I was doing great. We set off again at a brisk pace. Soon after, I started encountering what would eventually turn out to be the least of my problems. The road to Nandi hills appeared to be flat, but in fact was a gradual upwards slope, apparently called a “false flat”. I did not realize this as I pedaled along. As the miles went by, I felt more and more resistance to pedaling, and felt that there was something wrong with the bike. I soon fell behind my more experienced and fitter friends. On normal roads, I would fall behind on positive slopes but catch up with them on negative slopes. With a continuous positive slope, the gap to my friends only kept growing. They did do their best to let me catch up though, short off coming to a complete stop.

After a while, they did stop at a turn to allow me to catch up. I trundled along willing my body on, unblissfully© (I am filing for a copyright to this word) unaware of where they were. Soon, the first of the “slow cyclists” that I had zipped past at Hebbal caught up and passed me; and then the next one and the next one and so on. A lady in the group too caught and passed me with consummate ease. I was already in the lowest possible gear ratio; on a false flat! On a different day, a lady cyclist passing me would have dealt an almighty blow to my ego. Not on that day, though. Moving along at snail’s pace, I simply accepted that they were better and pedaled on. (I wouldn't have cared the least even if a 5 year old had zipped past.) Five minutes after my friends reached their stopping point, I finally caught up. I got off the saddle and collapsed into a puddle of molten muscle (and hopefully burned fat). My friends then warned me off the up-coming climb. I simply pointed them to my bike's gears. I did not have to explain anything more. An image is worth a thousand words, after all. I did complain about my bike having a lot of resistance, though. Prakash took my bike out for a spin and reported that it was doing absolutely fine. With problems being ruled out in the bike, I knew the source of resistance.

A five minute break later, we set off again to the base of the hill. Prakash lead the way, while Jp stayed back to give me company. The road was getting increasingly torturous, and soon we encountered a climb. It wasn’t exactly a climb, with the distance of the slope being just about 50 meters. The sight of the slope though was enough motivation for me to get off the bike and push it up the 50 or so meters. Ashamed at giving up so early, I clambered back on the bike and set off after Jp. I soon caught up with him and slipped into his slip stream. For the rest of the road till the base of the hill, I marveled at the wonder that aerodynamics is. We stopped at a small hotel at the base of the hill. The “slow cyclists” had also stopped for a break. A quick breakfast, and a well deserved 20 minutes of rest later, we refilled our water bottles and set off again.

The climb had now well and truly begun. About a minute into the climb, I had what would be the first of several impulses to give up and wait for my friends to climb the hill and come back. I pedaled for a couple of minutes and promptly got off the saddle and started pushing the bike up the hill. I reasoned that I could walk a few minutes and get back on the saddle a little less tired. And, so I pushed the bike for a good few minutes, until I encountered some monkeys on the way. I wasn’t exactly in the mood for monkeying around. So, I got back on my bike and started willing my muscles to keep going. A few minutes later I thought that I heard my muscles swear. Not wanting to learn more swear words, I got off the saddle yet again. This pattern kept repeating until about half way. By then, I was well and truly tired. The much promised clouds had dissipated, like a cloud in the wind, (Shamelessly plagiarized with suitable modifications from Morgan Freeman’s dialogue in the Shawshank Redemption) and the sun was beating down on my ravaged self.

The first of the “slow cyclists” pulled alongside me. He offered some kind words of encouragement and hope, and prodded me to pedal with him. Thinking I could tag him, I got on my bike and set off with him. We chatted as we rode along. Actually, he chatted and I listened. I could either pedal or talk, but not both. So, I decided to pedal and listen to him. I found out that he pedaled up here from a few kilometers further than from where I started. Every time I had an urge to get off the bike and push again, he reminded me that rolling friction was greater than sliding friction. I mumbled that I wasn’t sliding, but merely walking. But, he insisted and I tried to stay on with him. He soon started fading away into the distance. My muscles, not well versed with physics, finally gave up again. All this must have happened in the space of not more than a few minutes.

I got off my bike and started pushing it up hill again. A few minutes later, the lady pulled up alongside me and urged me to get on the bike. I thanked her for the offer, but politely refused. I had heard of the saying “Once bitten, twice shy”. But the lady was insistent, quoting Barack Obama’s 2008 campaign slogan of “Yes. We can.” While I am not sure Mr. Obama has lived up to his promise, I foolishly agreed to get back on the bike. The lady kindly pedaled along at my pace and even gave me a few tips. She had apparently been to Nandi Hills a few times before and offered me kind advice on how to tackle the upcoming climbs and turns. Tailing her, I hit a gear higher than Front-1; Rear-2 for the first time since the beginning of the climb. I must have been on the saddle for a kilometer or so, before I gave up again. She willed me on again, but I thanked her for her kind support and told her that I had reached my limiting point. She finally gave up on me and continued with her climb.

By now, I could see the summit of the hill. I reasoned (not sound reasoning, I admit) that I was already more than half way up and had to get to the summit, even if I had to crawl on all four. I did not even make an attempt to get back on the saddle now. I slowly trundled up hill thinking of what I could have been doing in the comfort of my house, with breaks in between. I was now counting the curves on the road and not the kilometer marker stones. At the final climb, I saw my friends coming back down. They stopped and kindly agreed to go back up with me. Finally, after an hour of physical and mental torture, I made the summit. I did not feel triumphant at the summit. Not after walking along half the way. I did feel good though; that I had made the summit by foot or by crank. I comforted myself that I had to drag along an extra 20 kilograms of my own weight compared to my friends uphill.

At the summit, Jp explained that the slow cyclists had gone downhill with the intention of climbing back again. They were apparently training for a Ladakh cycling trip. I made a mental note not to judge people based on appearances. A short break later, we sped downhill. Here was where my extra 20 kilograms would serve me in good stead. The descent was like a reward for climbing up hill. Not since soaking in the spray from Niagara Falls had I felt so refreshed in spite of being physically drained. I was the first to reach the base. The 7 kilometer journey that had taken me an hour to climb took me all of 7 minutes. At the base, we refilled our bottles and set off again. I was now feeling happy about cycling back. After all, I had the false flat that had slaughtered me physically and mentally in reverse. As I pedaled along at a good speed, I began noticing something. Someone had flipped the ramp!! The false flat seemed to have a positive slope in both directions. That broke me mentally. I couldn't wait to be home now, and I still had around 50 kilometers to go with the sun beating down harshly. I tried to come up with innovative solutions to the world’s hill climb problems as I started falling behind pace again. I was very close to coming up with a Nobel prize winning solution, when we finally took another break. I got off my bike and lay down on a stone slab, getting up only to gulp down two coconuts full of tender coconut juice. I wearily asked them where the highway was. Prakash pointed at the road that lay straight ahead. We had finally reached the highway.

We set off again, with Prakash helpfully offering to be my lead bike. I got into his slipstream thanking an assorted list of the gods of aerodynamics from Bernoulli to Adrian Newey. Eventually, I built enough of a reserve to get off the slipstream and pedal at my own pace. That didn’t last too long, though. By the time we reached the airport toll, I was well and truly tired. My body was feeling rather hot and I was mentally a complete mess. I told the guys that I had well and truly reached my breaking point. Prakash came to the rescue again. While I was sitting in the shade of the fly-over bridge absolutely blank, he kindly asked a transport bus driver if he would accommodate a cyclist and a cycle in the bus. The bus driver agreed for a slightly higher fare. And so, my biking trip ended and I wearily got on the bus with the cycle. The passengers (every single one of them) were extremely cooperative in spite of the bike being in the pathway, with some even offering to hold the bike for me. I sat for the rest of the bus journey thinking about the failed ride and about what the Tour De’ France riders go through. I had a new found respect for every person from the guy in first place to the guy in the last place. What I imagined would be a source of pride had turned out to be a humbling experience. What I thought would be a triumph of the human spirit, had turned out to be an anti-climax.

Today is the 31^st of May 2014, a good three weeks past my trip to Nandi Hills. I had expected that the gap in time between the journey and today would have erased the emotional journey that I went through. I am surprised at how much of it I remember, and how crisply I remember it. The way I see the physical and mental pain has changed, though. The only thing that stands between two identical mistakes is time. So, here I am, looking forward to another trip to Nandi Hills. Hopefully, the lessons I learned will make for a successful ride to and fro.

A huge thanks to Jp, Prakash, the gentleman from Jp nagar, the lady cyclist, and the driver, conductor and passengers in the bus in helping me get back in one piece.

Finally, a special note of thanks to Rahul Menon, who through his own exploits, inspired me to do this. Cheers Rahul!!!

A sense of perspective

It has been quite a while since I blogged. There are many reasons for that, the biggest being that I am lazy. In the mean time, my thoughts have evolved and I have moved on to the next stage in life.

So, why am I blogging now? As with a lot of things in life, some things simply happen. There are no reasons; though there may be a train of events that lead to the event. In this particular case, I happened to click on the “Blogger” link in “more” drop-down list in gmail and thought “Well… I haven’t seen my blog page in quite a while”, as my zillions of followers know (I have defined zillion as a variable and set it to zero for now). I glanced through some of my old blogs and thought... Why not write a blog...

I thought that I should write a blog about a TV anchor John Britas and a programme that I saw today. I started writing the blog and now feel like writing about “reasons” before I move on to Mr. John Britas.

I have always been fascinated by how people always seek reasons for anything and everything. Let me provide a classic example.

“An old rock carving is discovered in Lincolnshire, Koothaattukulam P.O, Siberia-897456, Antartica OR (Insert any place in the world here). The carving depicts some strange characters. The folks who excavated and the historians go all crazy about it. It immediately raises a wide variety of questions. What was the person who carved trying to convey? Was he or she trying to convey something to us? Was he or she writing poetry on rocks? Was he or she trying to document their lifestyle?”

Now, I am not for a moment suggesting that historical excavations are useless. But, to a lay-person like me, the only thing it says is that somebody carved something with a “tool” hard enough to scratch a rock. Why would it have to be poetry or even something meaningful? Why can it not be simply a person who was bored and thought he/she could scratch something on the wall? Imagine that a bunch of folks thousand years from now dig up the ground and find only some pictures of a few rather angry looking birds flying into pigs (No. I have never played Angry Birds) or find some comic books showing light sabres or flying saucers. Would they think of us as sadistic fellows who spend time flinging helpless wingless birds at equally helpless pigs? Would they think that aliens visited the earth and that once-upon –a-time there was a guy who flew around in underpants?

The key word here is perspective. All of us seem to have a tendency to rush into conclusions without understanding the perspective. Of course, it could be that the above paragraph probably shows my knowledge of history or sense of perspective. The simple answer is that I do not know. Perspective is something that is sorely lacking when we rush to judge others. I have always felt that actions cannot be judged without understanding the rationale behind the action. This is, of course, not condoning everything everybody does; but at least some things can be put in perspective.

I am bored now. So, the original subject of this blog, Mr. John Britas’ programme, will have to wait for another day. However, I do thank you, Mr. Britas, for getting me worked up over your overbearing anchoring style and what I perceived as you trying to give what you think the audience wants instead of conducting a fair discussion. Perhaps, another day... perhaps...

But, why did I write this blog? I just felt like writing it when I saw my blog page again. The fact that I chanced upon my blog is a mere coincidence.

Steve Jobless

I have these chat sessions when I get bored. I have a friend who gets bored as frequently as I do. The following is an excerpt from one such chat...

***************************************************************

Sasi [12:52 PM]:
now.. i'll also join ur sleeping time
Me [12:52 PM]:
:P
Sasi [12:53 PM]:
:)
Sasi [12:53 PM]:
i'll have a mountain dew
Me [12:53 PM]:
I dunno what to have
Sasi [12:53 PM]:
have something
Me [12:53 PM]:
what?
Sasi [12:57 PM]:
go and eat some grass
Sasi [12:57 PM]:
:P
Me [12:57 PM]:
I will have to dig in snow to find even dry grass
Sasi [12:57 PM]:
haha
Sasi [12:57 PM]:
then heat it in oven and then eat
Me [12:58 PM]:
heat the snow?
Sasi [12:58 PM]:
well.. not a bad idea
Sasi [12:58 PM]:
u can do tat also
Sasi [12:58 PM]:
u can drink it as a purified water then
Me [12:58 PM]:
can't I have fried water?
Sasi [12:59 PM]:
for that.. u have to put in a pan and fry it..
Me [12:59 PM]:
or tandoor snow?
Sasi [12:59 PM]:
overfrying will spoil ur dish
Me [12:59 PM]:
how about smoked snow?
Sasi [12:59 PM]:
good
Sasi [1:00 PM]:
u can try tat aso
Sasi [1:00 PM]:
but again the prblm is
Sasi [1:00 PM]:
keepin it at the right temp
Sasi [1:00 PM]:
and adding right spice
Me [1:00 PM]:
i use t-mobile
Me [1:00 PM]:
I don't think spice has coverage in US
Sasi [1:00 PM]:
i use rectangle mobile
Me [1:01 PM]:
:)
Me [1:01 PM]:
anyway... so.. basically I cannot add the right spice
Sasi [1:02 PM]:
then add the left out spice..
Me [1:02 PM]:
I don't want things that are left out..
Me [1:02 PM]:
Could be old spice.. It can be used only for shaving
Sasi [1:02 PM]:
tats y i say.. add it to them
Sasi [1:03 PM]:
i dont use it as its spicy while shaving..
Me [1:04 PM]:
hmmm... I use small gills (Ref: 1)
Sasi [1:04 PM]:
u killer... u use fish for shaving
Me [1:05 PM]:
no... just gills
Me [1:05 PM]:
I go to a barbershop called Gills
Me [1:06 PM]:
it is run by a couple of Punjabis
Sasi [1:06 PM]:
is it gills or bees??
Sasi [1:06 PM]:
u said punjabees.. and now saying gills
Me [1:07 PM]:
Gills is the scientific name of PunjaBees...
Me [1:07 PM]:
They are mutants like NinjaTurtles


1. Gills - A large bottle of Gillette shaving foam like pig is a grown up piglet.

Belief, a system

It is a funny thing that I feel the urge to write something when there is no way I can jot down my thoughts. Most inopportune moments like while I am in the toilet, while driving, sometimes even in office. Of course, I can always write down my thoughts once I am near my writing tools, a rare occurrence these days. But often, that mighty bane of mine called procrastination comes in the way. Repeated procrastination leads to oblivion and that is what usually happens to what I feel like writing. This time however, I write it down. The thoughts occurred to me to me at different times; and disconnected at first, but later seemed forever entwined. It all seemed to converge to one point; one word; one feeling. Belief.

The trigger, or rather triggers, for the chain of thoughts are a dialogue from a movie, a chat with my friend James and one of those random moments when we all don those thinking hats. The movie in question is the Tamil movie "Anbe Sivam" (Translated to "Love is God"; not the other way round. Kamal is an "atheist"). The movie revolves around two characters played by Madhavan and Kamal. It is a movie I love, for the message it conveys and for the sense of humour with which it conveys the message.

The other day as I was watching this movie, for the nth time, one of the dialogues struck me. The "apple on my head" scene is the diatribe between Madhavan and Kamal at a railway station when Madhavan tells Kamal that "Love is a feeling" and when Kamal replies "Communismum athu thaan, a feeling" (Communism is also like that, a feeling). The scene wasn't a debate about love and communism, of course and anyway that hardly is of any significance. I must admit that till the nth time it was just another dialogue, but somehow it was different this time. The other main trigger was a conversation with my friend James, seen as a communist by many. Dilaogues with him are always thought provoking. We do not necessarily see eye to eye, but our little chats are usually fun.

Now while I have socialist leanings, I am not a fan of communists either in India or elsewhere thanks to either the idea of "state control" or/and their rigid and what I consider as "out of sync with time" stance on a variety of issues. But this dialogue in the movie set me thinking and then a little conversation with James inspired me to write. I thought about communism and religion. I thought, with a sense of irony, that both are essentially built on belief. Any ideology for that matter is built on belief. The founding fathers of communism probably were convinced that their beliefs would lead to betterment. In the case of religions, those revered saints preached their belief in a god who governs all. I guess that anything and everything is propelled by belief.

I then thought about the origin of beliefs. I guess all beliefs can be traced down to a single person or a small group of people with similar ideologies. Even casual conversation can influence thoughts. So, if a person is firm in his or her belief, the person can influence others deeply. There you see the rise of a system, a system based on belief. With good communication, the belief system could make a whole society of "believers".

The issue of a belief being out of tune with reality arises when a belief becomes a dogma. The surroundings keep changing, but often the system does not. Thus some time down the line, maybe a generation or two, we have a belief system that is incompatible with the surroundings, the ground realities. Here we have an unbalanced equation; an unstable system. The system has two options; it can either evolve to stablise itself or die, just like any other system in the universe. I guess there is only one thing that remains constant. Change.

Perhaps that is the reason why communism is shrinking. Perhaps that is the reason why religions rise, thrive, go on a decline and die. And like all things of conviction, they die with a flash and never with a whimper.

Truck's own country

Before coming over to the US, I read that here "Bigger is better"... I don't know what all they meant; but at least one look at the surroundings will tell you that the travel kit was spot on...

Almost everyone has an automobile here (I refuse to say cars); necessitated by the fact that public transport is a word that is quite unheard of in these parts... they come in all sizes... ranging from XL to XXXXL... You see; bigger is better. There are a host of SUVs around and then there are the trucks; monster utility kind of pick-ups. And yeah! People even drive these to office. That pic there. You see what I mean? It sounds even wierder on this day, a day google has gone black as a message to conserve energy.

Anyway... another thing out here is everyone's preference for automatic gears. It is difficult to find manual transmissions out here. I personally feel that automatics take half the fun out of driving. I mean, you should be able to shift down & rev a bit if you want. But then, it is a matter of perception.

Okay!! Where am I? I think I've lost it. Time to stop this blog then. I have no clue where this one is going. :)

Bangaloreil ninnu Wichita vare - Oru Yaatra kurippu

Bangalore - Wichita - A travel diary...

I started from Bangalore at around 6:15pm IST on 15th March... my gud ol' roomie for 3 yrs Jp came along... it looked like Bangalore was sad that I was going to be away for some time, for it wept... malayalathil paranjaal potti potti karanju.... errr... wat I meant was that it rained like mad with lightning & thunder (one of which flashed right in front of our cab)... The roads were flooded... & traffic was slow moving.... cars, buses and scooters are adapted to moving around in land after all... anyway, I reached the airport at around 8:00pm... I, dressed in full formals (save a tie), stepped out on to the torrential rain... a small look around; and my brilliant eyes spotted a shortcut to the terminal building... I moved that way and carefully stepped into a huge puddle of water... (so much for the "formal" dressing)... & then discovered that the "shorcut" was barricaded... i stepped out from that puddle of water and stepped into another.. (there was a small bund like embankment to separate the 2 puddles, u see) ... anyway, I waded my way into the shelter of the building... Jp had taken my huge baggages... he looked very much like a porter dressed in his khaki colour shorts.. :D

I bade Jp god bye & checked in & was informed that my Jet Airways flight would be 30 mts late... However, they managed to beat their target... The flight took off about an hour late!!! Good thing; for that reduced my idling time in Mumbai...

The plane was a 737...

I remember someone telling me not to think that I was a stress engineer... I did exactly that... I encourage all my fellow engineers around not to think of stress & stuff when in a plane.. it's scary...

The first thing that I noticed in the plane was a repair plate near the empennage... Heck!!! & then I go in... I see the frames in the walls (well.. not exactly frames, but u can make out where the frame stations are)... it's rather scary to think about stress distribuion and failure modes sitting in a flying plane... Thankfully, the airhostesses came to rescue... No!! They didn't really say that the Margins of Safety are fine... They just appeared in the cabin... Good enough!!! ;)

Mumbai... Chathrapathi Shivaji International Airport... Chathrapajiyude airpot... Shivajiyude airport... gathakaalasmrithikaLil shivajude virayaarnna sangeetham keLkkaam ("Athiridee" paattu Shivaji virachu kondu paadukayaayirunnu)... "V" :D ..(Refer Note) ... I go my baggage... & collected my coupon for the bus that carries us to International terminal (Terminal 1 of Chathrapathi Shivaji International Airport is a Domestic Terminal)... That coupon is the most useless piece of paper I have ever come across... I would even say that it's more useless than Malayala Manorama & Deshabhimani put together... The guy at the counter said that the coupon number would be called.. and an airport bus will ply me to the international terminal... Heck!!! I doubt he has called the coupon number even now!!! & then there was a superb Plasma TV that showed information on when the next bus was supposed to show up... it said 0:00 hrs... I waited ... & waited & waited... a guy was heard remarking that last time he came there, it still showed 0:00 hrs... So, I along with I am sure many others are waiting for 0:00... The bus arrived at 2:00am... The Plasma TV still showed Next bus at 0:00am... So much for all the fancy stuff....

Mumbai - Dubai.... I boarded my Emirates flight to Dubai... 4.5 hrs, I think... Emirates was good!!! A Boeing 777-200... Much bigger than the 737... 777-200 economy was 3+3+3; while 737 was 3+3... A TV for every seat... I passed my time listening to Malayalam & Tamil songs on the plane audio system... I am also pleased to inform you that airhostesses onboard Emirates do not wear black Purdahs that cover them from head to toe... J

Arrived at Dubai at 6:00am Dubai time in heavy fog... The first thing that I saw as I disembarked from the flight was that the 777-200 has a Rolls Royce Engine... the 2nd thing I noticed was a Merc S class... & the third thing I noticed was or rather were the swanky looking buses... One of those swanky buses took me to the terminal... I condescened to allow the other passengers too to join me in the swanky bus... so, we all went to the terminal building...

Man!!! What a terminal!!!!!!! The terminal building was huge.. I'm sure it is atleast 1 km long... it took me a good fifteen minutes to walk all the way... well.. I am not too sure about how much time it took me to walk the length of the terminal from where I arrived to where I had to depart... which was at the other end, btw...

& then ofcourse were the famous duty free shops... who cares about the damn shops... There was a Porsche 911 Carrera & a Bentley Continental out there!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yippeeeeee!!!

anyway, did my check in for the next flight... & waited... on a side note... I also saw an S-class limo while I was gazing out of the window there...

The next flight was again an Emirates… a Boeing 777-200LR (LR stands for long range)… & it was a long range flight… the flight was about 16 hours…. To Houston….

The flight took of late thanks in part to the plane waiting for some passengers from connecting flights & then waiting for the backlog of flights to clear… It was all thanks to the fog…Anyway, I made myself comfy in the flight… I had only 2 objectives… eat well & sleep well… I must say at this point that I have been able to successfully accomplish both tasks well beyond expectation…

The plane… Flying emirates is good… the service was very good (pls note that I have no points of reference to compare with)…anyway… there was in-flight entertainment… TV… music.. forward & dwn cameras… flight data… all the stuff… I used something else best… the seat… to have a sound sleep (No. I didn’t snore… “K”).. J The crew were also kind enough to offer me something to eat every time I woke up… Watched 2 movies; 1 Malayalam & Chak de in between when I got tired of sleeping…

Another thing worth note was when I flew over Iceland… They certainly didn’t name that place that way without reason… So, I saw snow for the first time in my life.. Along the way, we touch ed a max speed of 0.83 Mach.. & reached 35000ft, I think…

Anyway.. reached Houston late by more than 2 hrs, thanks to delay in departure… & promptly missed the connecting flight to Wichita.. btw, from what I saw, Houston seems to be a very small city…

Houston was pretty uneventful… except for the fact that I almost had to jump on to the plane…The pilot took the plane at some crazy angles…

Yeah!! I am getting bored by now after writing such a long one… L So lemme wind up…

Wichita… reached at 11:30pm… was pretty cold… atleast for me… a couple of friends came & picked me up…

Well.. that’s it.. that was my journey…Phew!!!!!