Electric soup... thudz 'pure dead brilliant' mayt!

I've heard it rains a lot in Scotland, now how true is this? 'Aye mayt, nodda lod... jusda teeny weeny bid, nae bother mayt...', sorry, can you repeat that the lad said, 'psst... dude did you get that, asked Guldu...' pat came the reply from the cabbie 'nodda lod auf rayn mayt, jusda bid... thudz ull'... too flabbergast to respond, the lad resigned to his fate, must be the air pressure in the aircraft, so much for first time travelling, wondered the lad!

Guldu felt a nudge, and woke up with a start, 'hey... the board reads Eurohostel', he said, 'we'll meet at the induction for international students tomorrow' said the lad, who was somewhere in the transition between frenzied excitement and numbing fatigue... 'Aye mayt, 29 St. Mungo Avenue... 13 quid please'... the lad felt something struck him really hard... et voila it was the 'gibberish' which rattled him out of sweet precious sleep. The cabbie helped him with his bags, and said again, '13 quid mayt' , flexing his arm with an intimidating eagle, and a huge anchor tattooed oh his left arm... 'err... not sure I understood, how much?' asked the embarassed lad... the cabbie pulled out a piece of paper, and scribbled '13 Pounds please'... blushingly the lad handed over the money and the cabbie zoomed away.

Someone come running by with all gusto, too tired to react the lad just watched the guy close in... 'Hi, I'm EmEm, so you finally arrived... let me help you with your bags, this way...' of course this was the same EmEm who'd very graciously agreed to host the lad temporarily until the student accommodation opened... in a fit of delirium, the lad had forgotten that he'd called EmEm from the airport, informing him of his arrival!

'Did you understand the cabbie at all?' asked EmEm, 'eh no, not much, he sounded as though he had verbal diarrhoeoa...' said the lad. EmEm burst out laughing... 'Welcome to Glasgow, and you got your first dose of Glaswegian' said EmEm! Soon enough, 'Nae bother, wee, quid...' etc. were to become an inseparable part of the lad's new Glaswegian life. 

'How do I get to the University, guess I'll finish all the enrolment stuff...' said the lad, whose enthusiasm had managed a come back, thanks to some Indian bread and curried lentils (a.k.a roti and dal ;-))... 'I'll take you there, it's just a short walk' said EmEm. Walking through a maze of buildings, every sight gave the lad goosebumps of excitement... the sheer variety of architecture, a harmonious blend of ancient and modern, culminating with a grand red sandstone building - 'Royal College Building - Department of Electronic and Electrical Engineering' read the board... 'I'll wait for you here, said EmEm... in went the lad, and found himself in a huge hall where scores of students were being enrolled, he didn't have to wait for very long for a the customary 'mugshot', and had a shiny new student card in no time... 'Welcome to Strathclyde!' said the woman behind the desk. Informing his folks back home of all uneventful proceedings, the lad now felt his sinews ache... screaming, begging, pleading for delicious sleep!

The lad felt something radiating up his face, he groggily opened his eyes, only to let the sunlight caress his visage... 'slept well?' asked EmEm... 'oh like a log... seems like a beautiful day' remarked the lad. 'I'll help you move in to the student hall' said EmEm. After a sumptuous breakfast of eggs-sunny side up, some toast and marmalade, washed down with copious amounts of tea, the lad readied his bags for the move to the student hall. Deafening silence greeted the lad at the student hall... 'Blimey! why is it so silent in here... this place looks deserted' said the lad to EmEm... who replied back 'This was supposed to be a lunatic asylum bang on in the city centre, and was converted into a student hall sometime ago, even I lived here before I realized I would lose my sanity...' grinned EmEm, who then took leave, and promised to meet up the next day. The lad reciprocated with a feeble smile, 'Indeed, imagine living here' he thought... It wouldn't take too long for the lad to realize that this 'asylum' would soon become the epicentre of all fun and frolic in Glasgow!

The door of flat 2/7 creaked open, 'somebody's already here, wonder who my flatmates are...' said the lad to himself. Suddenly, a huge hand stroked the lad's back... startled he turned around... 'Hi, I'm Ess, just arrived today, looks like we're flatmates for the rest of the year then...' said a stout guy (back to the present - last seen of, this guy was busy setting 'benchmarks' in growing horizontally ;-))... 'I've seen this guy somewhere... where, where, where?...' suddenly as in a flash of enlightenment, cried out the lad, 'but yes! did you ever take the Brilliantz course at EmSeeSee in Bangalore... I'm sure I've seen you there...' (back to the present - the course at EmSeeSee in bangalore was of course just a pretext, for people went there for an altogether different reason... something more earthly ;-) more delineations in a future post). 'Bingo man... some memory you've got eh...' said Ess, and squeezed the lad's hand so forcefully, that the lad howled in pain... Indeed Ess was also from Bangalore, and the lad instantly gelled with him, and gave him a nick name that very instant... 'Muggah, I'm Cheeky...' said the lad, grinning widely... ' any idea who our other flatmate is?' asked Cheeky... 'first things first, I think your memory deserves a celebration, let's head out for a drink...' guffawed Muggah ;-)

Britannia bounty...

Mama mia, here I go again... Ghum hai kisi ke pyar mein... The winner takes it all, the loser standing small... familiar faces walking in and out of the hostel room... raucous talk... people disappearing into the crowd... a train whistling it's way along a bridge... CTR's benne masala dosa melting in the mouth... the lad was jolted rather abruptly from his sweet reverie... 'Ladies and gentlemen,this is your Captain, we will touch down in approximately 45 minutes, please fill in the white disembarkation cards in your seat pockets'... fishing out one of the many Parker pens he'd received as farewell gifts, the lad got to the arduous task of filling out answers to very arbitrary questions, so very idiosyncratic of those disembarkation cards, 'what a waste of paper' he thought. Suddenly, 'Aap ko Hindi aati hai?', 'Haan ji, zaroor'... this was a question the elderly Gujarati woman asked... she took out her burgundy jacket British passport, and asked the lad to fill out her disembarkation card, for although 'British', she couldn't really read or write English! She said she hadn't bothered to learn the language as she hardly ever ventured out of the Gujarati dominion in Cardiff... so much for 'efforts' towards societal integration, the lad thought.

'Ladies and gentlemen, we have just landed at London Heathrow, Terminal 4, the local time is 0745...' announced the Captain... over the course of the flight, the lad had noticed someone in the opposite aisle headbanging to music almost all the while, having spotted this person inside the terminal building, the lad's curiosity was 'naturally' aroused... he walked up to the person, and enquired his whereabouts, and was thrilled to know that the person (who shall be referred to as Guldu) was also from Bangalore, headed for Glasgow for a Master's in some arcane subject... what was more interesting was the fact that Guldu claimed his family owned the famous 'Hotel Janata' in Malleswaram, Bangalore (behold, Bangaloreans would perhaps need no introduction to this divine eatery, for the uninitiated, a blog entry will lurk it's 'delicious' head pretty soon down the line :P)

Passengers were being hoarded into a bus packed like a can of sardines, headed for Terminal 1 for 'Her Majesty's immigration service'... the lad noticed long lines of people awaiting to be let in, tourists, random travellers, asylum seekers, potential immigrants, (il)legal immigrants, students, virtually people in all shapes, colours, sizes and of course passports for that one 'coveted' stamp, probably changing the course of their lives forever...

The lad and Guldu got into a line that read 'All other passports', for their were lines clearly demarcated for Brits, EU nationals and the like, and others for 'foreigners'. 'Papers please...' asked the woman behind the counter... lo and behold, one of Indian origin (who later acknowledged being from Saddi Ludhiana), the first taste of Desi Brittania (not the biscuits :P) the lad thought. Having been asked innumerable questions like why are you here, what do you intend to do, have you ever suffered from TB or brain fever (thanks for reminding me I have one ;))... the lad had half a mind to yell out loudly at this 'Entry clearance officer'... finally the officer pointed to a stamp that said 'Gratis Courtesy' in the lad's passport, 'what does this mean', asked the officer, at this moment, the lad proudly said, I'm here on a 'British Chevening Scholarship', and I didn't have to pay for my visa in India... 'Oh Congratulations on that and welcome to the UK!' said the officer stamping the lad's passport with a 'Admitted into the UK' seal. The lad waited for Guldu who was endlessly grilled, and was finally among the 'privileged' to be admitted into old Blighty.

In all the immigration melee, the connecting flight to Glasgow was missed, and with time to spare for the next one, the lad realized he had to inform his folks back home, who the lad was sure were frantically waiting for his call after touchdown. The telephone needed coins, lo and behold, there was a kiosk selling newspapers and other trinkets... the lad who was accustomed to being pampered to a hot mug of divinely delicious filter coffee with the local daily, simply could not imagine beginning the day without a newspaper, et voila, his eyes chanced upon a copy of the Guardian, the price read £1... immediately the lad got the shock of his life... '80 Rs. for a newspaper !?!?!... c'mon, this is ridiculous' he thought! But the inveterate craving for the inexplicable joy of flipping through pages of a newspaper, and getting to the crossword section soon triumphed, and voila, the first purchase was made using the 'powerful' Pound Sterling...

Having called his folks, and promising to call back again from Glasgow, the lad watched Guldu make his first purchase in 'phoren' land... a pack of Marlboro fags... the nicotine had just made it's way into Guldu's lungs, when the speaker blared out loudly... 'British airways announces the departure of it's flight to Glasgow'... extinguishing a half smoked fag, that too a phoren Marlboro 'wrenched' Guldu's heart...'just one more fag man' said Guldu, adding to the lad's consternation... the lad egged on Guldu, who relented hesitatingly... Glasgow beckoned, and the duo were finally off to the departure gate.

The plane soared towards Glasgow, and soon enough the lad spotted the River Clyde, and few landmarks he'd seen in pictures and read about... 'that's the river Clyde dude' remarked the lad to groggy eyed Guldu... soon enough the lad and Guldu found themselves waiting for their baggage. A svelte girl walked towards them... introducing herself as Kathy... 'I'm a volunteer to help international students find their way' said Kathy, with a wide smile, and ensuring that the lad and Guldu had no unanswered questions... at least for the moment. Armed with brochures and maps, the duo now made their way to the row of Black cabs... 'Hi there, I need to go to 29, St. Mungo's Avenue and my friend needs to go to the Eurohostel, please...' said the lad... 'Nae bother mate, new to Glasgow eh, hop in, cheers...' said the cabbie...