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...