Flight risk

I don’t think anybody has missed as many flights, trains and buses as I have.  Ever.

I have missed trains because I was mistaken about the timing – on my very first backpacking trip, me and my friend Chinmay were supposed to go to Calcutta together on the Gitanjali express. Chinmay sent me a fax of the ticket (this – as you can guess – was a very long time ago) and the time of the journey was  a bit garbled. I thought that the time was 6.30 so I decided to reach the station a full half an hour earlier – only to see the Gitanjali express steam out at 6.00 AM – which turned out to be the actual timing. I tried to chase it in a local – but the express took precedence, and I had to give the chase at the end of the local line and come back and take a flight. You would think that this one experience was enough to teach me a lesson – but I have missed trains as late as 2014 by being mistaken about the timing. Even my mom has blogged about it! You can read that blog here. 

I have missed buses because – well, because I was late, or because I couldn’t find the bus stop – don’t laugh! Bus stops aren’t marked clearly – it could happen to anyone. And once I missed it because me and Dillu were having a drink at Lamba’s restaurant and bar at Chembur. It is right opposite the yogi hotel bus stand, and I am sure better people than me and Dillu have missed the bus by getting carried away by its prawns koliwada and cold beer.

But it is in flights that the true creativity of missing flights comes through.

In olden days (gotta stop  saying that – makes me feel like a neathandral) you could turn up just moments before the flight time and still get seated. Once I woke up at 6.00 Am for a 6.30 AM flight.

‘Oh, you have missed your flight.’ Dad said

‘Not on your life!’ I said and dragged him into the car, and drove like Ayrton Senna (gotta think of names of modern racing car drivers) to the airport – Shit shave shampoo and drive all happened in 25 minutes and we were at the airport at 6.25! Dad was white faced, shaking and almost catatonic as I left him and sprinted to the Jet airways counter. There was no irritating CISF at the time, so I could reach the counter in seconds and slammed my ticket on the counter and demanded a boarding pass.

‘Sir...the flight has gone!’ the check in girl said.

‘NO NO...’ I said ‘I can still hear them announcing the last and final departure. Give me the boarding pass.’

Unbelievingly she said ‘Do you have any check in luggage?’

‘NO! DAMMIT! GIVE ME THE PASS!’

She gave me a pass and I sprinted through the security and made to the boarding gate with moments to spare.

Obviously, this was before 9/11 when the world was more innocent. Try this stunt now and you will be in the clink with a security squad guy beating  your ass.

But we are talking about missing flights – now anyone can miss flights if you are late, or the flight is preponed or traffic is fucked up (all of which have happened to me) – but I have missed a flight sitting right there in the departure lounge in front of the gate!

I once missed it, because I fell asleep! I was dozing right in front of the counter and missed their boarding announcement and numerous appeals to the mysterious Mr Joshi to turn up. After I woke up, I had to sheepishly go and ask for a seat on another flight.  Luckily it was Indian Airlines so they obliged  - today's private airlines would have told me to go buy a new ticket.

That is also understandable – if you are asleep, you are asleep! But I had an even stranger experience once.

I was waiting for a Delhi  flight – it was an Indian Airlines flight IC655 or something, departing at 9.00 AM. I had reached well in time, and was sitting in the departure lounge, watching the people board. Now, I don’t see the point of boarding the flight early and just sitting in that cramped plane waiting for the other idiots to board. In my book, boarding early is done only if you are escorting neurotic elderly relatives or have a lot of cabin baggage and you need to be first in the cabin so as to get the space in the overhead locker.  I generally make it a point of sneering at the fools who stand in line to board the plane, and being the last guy to board the flight, so that as soon as I sit down they do the safety drill and take off.  This is a tried and tested procedure, and I have done it hundreds of times.

However, in this particular case – there was a twist.

I strolled up to the check in clerk and royally handed him my boarding pass. He tried to scan it a couple times, but the system couldn’t take it. He peered at my boarding pass and said to me

‘Sir – you are not on this flight!’

‘Eh? What do you mean?’

‘You are on flight IC 655 to Delhi – this is IC 654 to Delhi – via Ranchi! Your flight was at 9.00 AM – this flight is at 9.05 AM.’

‘WHAT!’ I was shocked ‘ Where is my flight then?’

‘At the next counter sir..’ he pointed to the neighbouring boarding gate. ‘But they have closed the boarding. The counter is closed.’

‘WHAT!!!!’ I screamed and ran to that counter, but it was closed. Puffing and gasping, I came back to this fellow and said ‘Put me on your flight man- you are also IC and you are also going to Delhi.’

‘I don’t know...’ he said doubt fully ‘the flight is full. Only one passenger is yet to board – if he turns out to be a no show, then I can give you his seat.’ 

I waited hopefully, but then the bloody fellow turned up, puffing and gasping  and I had to go down to their office and get a seat on a later flight.

However – all this was on domestic flights – which is after all a controllable environment. The worst thing that can  happen is an embarrassing call to the client or to the boss.

I have had some interesting goof ups on international flights too!

One was on the Mumbai Dubai flight. We had had a good year and the company was sending us on a junket to Dubai.

I reached the airport well in time and greeted my colleague Shekhar at the airport. We cleared immigration well in time, but after I cleared security, I just couldn’t find my boarding pass! I searched high and low, but the bloody thing had vanished!

Shekhar almost had a heart attack!

‘Sir sir sir....what will we do sir...the cops will arrest us and give us the third degree...OOOOOO.....my first foreign trip.....MERA KYA HOGAAAAA......MY POOR PARENTS....WHERE  WILL THEY SEARCH FOR MEEEEEE....’ he broke down and started sobbing bitterly.

‘Hush.' I said ‘Why so much tension? Whats the worst that can happen? They will not allow me to board the flight. That’s OK...I am not desperate to see Dubai. If they cut up rough, I will simply go home.’

He stared at me unbelievingly as I calmly went and spoke to the dragon lady who was running the Emirates operations and told her that I had lost my boarding pass.

 She almost blew a gasket.

‘HOW COULD YOU LOSE A BOARDING PASS?!!’ she screamed and Shekhar blanched and nearly shat his pants. ‘HOW COULD YOU?!!!!’

I was completely calm and said ‘OK...now that you have got that out of your system, let’s do something productive. I have lost the pass, and I am sorry about it – but shouting isn’t going to bring it back. Let’s get a fresh pass done.’

After fulminating for some more time, we got to do the whole thing again- new boarding pass – new immigration stamp – an interesting discussion with the airport police – new security stamp – the works.

I had taken my jacket off for security, and as I put it on again – I felt a rustling in my sleeve. I put in my hand to investigate, and came out with my old boarding pass! The bloody thing had been in my sleeve all along!

‘See this!’ I said to Shekhar  and showed him two boarding passes – both with immigration and security stamps.  His eyes almost fell out of his head. ‘Put it away sir....before they arrest both of us!’

But the reason why I was thinking about all this was an interesting experience I had today.

I was in Johannesburg, South Africa – waiting to board a flight to Perth, Australia on Qatar airways. Qatar airways has a hub and spoke system – so the flight was Johannesburg to Doha; and then change to a Doha – Perth flight. 

‘It’s a tight connection in Doha’ She-who-must-be-obeyed warned me ‘Only a couple of hours. So please don’t fall asleep or dawdle in Doha.’

‘Not to worry, ma’m’ I replied, giving her a snappy salute. ‘I shall be alert and sober.’

I reached the airport at 10 AM for a 3 PM flight and spent the time looking around the airport and shopping for curios.

However, it turned out that the flight was delayed  and delayed and delayed -  first they said that it would leave at 4.30, then 5.00 then 5.30. At first, I panicked – as it would leave very little time to catch the Doha Perth flight – but when the flight became very late and then very very late -  I relaxed  - I would definitely  miss the connection – so why worry? The airline would do something.

The Qatar airways guys came and told us to eat at the coffee shop on them – and thus I was convinced that this was going to be a long long delay.

We were supposed to board from gate A3, so I was sitting in the coffee shop right in front of the gate, where I could see the planes. There was no sign of a Qatar airways plane – a South Africa airways plane was sitting at Gate A3.

 I surfed the net as long as I could - had taken a South Africa SIM – but as the flight was so delayed, all my balance got over in accessing the internet. When I checked the balance it showed – Airtime – zero; Data – zero.  

At 5.00 PM, I got bored of sitting in the coffee shop and decided that this was a good time to take a shit – before I got into a crowded airplane – and made my way to the loo.

I had a satisfactory dump and was feeling the satisfaction of a job well done – and was  just washing my hands, when my phone rang.

‘Strange’ was my first thought ‘who has my South Africa number?’

‘Shit!!!’ was my second thought ‘Only the airline has my number. Hope there is no security issue with the check in baggage’

‘Hello?’ luckily incoming calls were free – thus I could take the call on a zero balance

‘Can I speak to Mr JO SHEEE?’

‘Er...speaking.’

‘I am calling from Qatar airways Mr JO SHEEE’ he said ‘Where are you now?’

‘Where am I now.....I am here...in front of gate No 3...’

‘Please come to the boarding gate sir...we are about to close the boarding.’

‘CLOSE THE BOARDING!!! WHEN DID YOU EVEN START THE BOARDING?!! I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR SO MANY HOURS!!’

‘Yes sir...everyone has boarded...please come immediately’

I sprinted to the boarding gate, thanking the lord that I had a South Africa SIM which they could call on.  Unlikely they would have called an India number – and I may not have taken a call from an unknown number on international roaming

I made my way to the plane and saw that it was a bit of a concealed entrance – the entrance was from gate A3, but then the path led to gate A5, where the plane was standing. No wonder I had not seen the plane.

‘All’s well that ends well’, I thought as I sat down. My bowels are empty and I was the last one to board the plane, as I normally like to do.

The new superhero in town

The new superhero in town!

The wife and the brat arrived after a couple of day to add to the natural wonders of South Africa and the veldt resounded to the sounds of the new wildlife.

'SANJU! eat this!'

'NO!I hate you! I hate food! I hate eating!  I hate drinking! I dont want to become fat like you!'

'SANJU! take a bath!'

'NO!I hate taking baths! Is there a tub bath? Is it the most inconvenient time I can think of for taking a bath? Have you run out of clean clothes for me to wear, so that I can insist on taking a bath and changing clothes? If not, then I dont want to take a bath.'

'SANJU! lets go to see this beautiful place!'

'NO! I HATE seeing beautiful places! I hate going out! I REFUSE TO LEAVE THIS HOTEL! I WANT TO STAY HERE ALL DAY LONG!'

'SANJU! get your nose out of that tab and see this beautiful penguin - view - ostrich - '

'NO. I HATE SEEING THE REAL WORLD! I have already seen this beforeon the TV / on the internet / on my tab / on those silly TV shows you both keep seeing all the time. '

'SANJU! FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! PUT THAT TAB DOWN!'

'MOOOOOOOOOM! TECHNOLOGY IS MY LIFE! I love only technology things!'

She-who-must-be-obeyed wasnt being obeyed, and maternal instincts prevented her from tearing her first born into tiny fragments and dancing on them like a little Nataraj, so she turned on me.

'THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!' she screamed at me, turning big and green. The INCREDIBLE HULK was on the loose. 'PUNY HUMAN!'

I shied like a startled fawn and jumped 10 feet away in fright!

'What! why? when? what did I do?'

'You set a bad example to her by being constantly on the phone or on the PC or on the tab or some other pestilential piece of technology. Be like a good madrasi husband and father - your only possession should be a lungi and a shirt. And that too you should wear alternatatingly. Either lungi or shirt. thats it.'

'But...but...but...'

'get that little tyke to eat properly or HULK SMASH!'

I tried to play the stern parent and turned on the little one.

'What nonsense behaviour is this?' I thundered, wagging my finger at her. 'Is this the way to behave? Eat some food at once, I say!'

There was a sudden flash of green as if some cosmic rays had suddenly hit us, and a crack of supersonic sound and the smell of ozone in the air. We covered our eyes at the flash, and suddenly had to cover our ears as there was a sonic attack in the air.

'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!'

We looked at the scene dumbfounded - there was a new super hero in town! The daughter of Hulk was born anew.

'I HATE YOU ALL. LEAVE ME ALONE. LEAVE ME ALONE.'

She was big and green and sat in a corner.

she was .... THE INCREDIBLE SULK!

Diving with the sharks

Diving with the sharks

I set my alarm for 4.30 AM, and was so excited that I kept getting up in the night and checking my watch suspiciously.  Finally when the alarm rang at 4.30, I jumped out of bed with enthusiasm – because I was going shark cage diving!

(Not my photo - from internet)

The Great white shark is one of nature’s most efficient predators, and till very recently, the only way one could have a close up and personal look at this magnificent animal in the wild was by jumping in the water and shouting ‘AAARRGHH SAVE  MEEEEEEEEE...’ shortly before becoming a tasty snack for the hungry shark.

But now they have figured out a convenient way for you to enjoy a sight of this apex predator and survive the experience and go back and boast about it – they lower a cage into the water by the side of the boat and the divers can go and sit inside the cage. Then the boat wala dumps some fish waste into the water to attract the sharks and when the shark comes sniffing around, they tie some fish heads to a rope and throw them in the water. When the shark tries to snap at the fish heads, they jerk the rope and pull it out of the sharks reach – as you might tease a dog by offering it a biscuit and pulling it away when the dog jumps for it. Substitute the image of the dog with a giant tiger with huge fangs and rippling muscles.

(not my photo - from internet) 

Anyway, I was up at 4.30 and congratulating myself for being the first guy to awaken on a cold winter morning, when I heard some voices and laughter from the street below; and when I looked down I saw that it was a bunch of my young fellow hostelites – they were just coming back from a night of partying and clubbing.

I suddenly felt very old.

I got ready and waited and finally at 5.30 a guy came to the door and asked ‘Shark cage diving’ In a deep voice and ushered me to the collection van. He was tall and muscular and looked like a hero of a Wilbur Smith novel. You could just imagine him being a rancher in wild Africa or an elephant hunter or a diamond prospector or any amount of heroic figures.

The bus was full of sleepy figures and as it was dark and misty outside, I also decided to rest my eyes for a minute – and when I opened them – I had been magically transported to the Shark Cage diving office at Gansbaai.

‘Wow – that was quick!’ I thought....but then I realised that I had been asleep for two hours and felt a little crushed.

We got out of the bus and went up to their office where they had a nice breakfast laid out. We were all hungry and loaded our plates with all kinds of stuff. We had just started tucking in when the organiser comes and says ‘Guys – you better chew your food very thoroughly – make it into a fine paste before you swallow it.’

‘Why?’ I asked thickly, my mouth full of ham sandwich.

‘Well, there’s a bit of a swell ,so it might be rough on the boat. So when you puke, it’s better to puke out a fine paste rather than big bits which might get stuck in your windpipe’

That caused a bit of a silence in the hall, as everyone looked at their plate and thought about all that was already inside and a lot of people quietly put their plate aside.

After everyone was through, the dive master gave us hi s instructions. He explained how the thing would work – the fish waste would be put into the water to attract the sharks and once the sharks came, they would lower the cage in the water and five people at a time would enter the cage. When the boat crew saw a shark they would shout ‘get down!’ and the divers should go underwater and they would see the shark clearly.

‘Absolutely no one will put their hands or legs outside the cage – no one will try to touch the shark. Got it?’

We nodded our heads solemnly. We liked our appendages attached. 

‘Everyone has to put on a wetsuit before getting into the water. Please don’t urinate in the wet suit – apart from causing the suit to stink, you will drive the sharks away as they don’t like the smell of human urine.’

OHO – I thought – That’s what it is! A survival mechanism! When you are scared you piss in your pants because it drives the sharks away. 

‘If you pee in your wet suit you clean it, and if you crap in your wetsuit you buy it! Also, another thing – the side of the boat on which we hang the cage is the shark side, and if you feel sick and want to puke then the other side is the sick side. Please do not puke in the cage, or in the toilets or from the top deck. Please do not try to hold it in either – feel free to puke on the sick side – there is no shame in it, it’s a normal human reaction.’

And with these encouraging words, we got on the ship and made way for the shark point.  It was a bit choppy on the way out, but nothing too bad. Once they came to their place, they started throwing the fish bits out to attract the sharks.

After an anxious wait, suddenly the cry went up ‘There! Look there!’

And underneath the water  I saw the familiar torpedo shape and triangular fin which I had seen a thousand times before in pictures and photos and movies!

The great white shark!

What a sight it was! It was at least 4-5 metres long – that’s 13 feet of killer shark! Wow!

It was as exciting as seeing a tiger on a safari!

(photo by fellow diver Kosmas Koumianos  - http://www.kosmaskoumianos.com)

‘Now do you believe us?’ the dive master asked in excitement ‘Now do you believe that there are great white sharks?’

‘There’s another one!’ the cry went up. Then a disappointed voice ‘That’s only about 3 metres...its only a baby.’

The boat crew chuckled. ‘You jump in then, and YOU tell him that he is a baby.’

They lowered the cage and everyone started to get changed into wet suits. Man, it was a real struggle to get into that wet suit. I had to huff and puff and stretch and pull and nearly dislocate several joints before I managed to get into that suit.

By that time, the first five divers had entered the cage. They confidently jumped into the water and shouted ‘AAAAARRRGHHHHHH’

‘What happened?’ I asked. ‘Did they see a shark?’

‘no no..’ the dive master chuckled ‘the water is very cold’

‘DOWN GUYS DOWN’ a crew member bawled, and we rushed to the side of the boat to see the shark come in.

‘WOOOOOOOHOOOOOO!’ the divers screamed in joy as they came out of the water. ‘WHAT A SIGHT!’

‘DOWN DOWN DOWN’ and again all of them dipped their heads.

After a few minutes, the dive master swapped them out and it was my turn.

I eagerly jumped into the water and nearly had a cardiac arrest due to the shock of the cold water.

WHAT THE #@$*@#@! ARRGGHHHH...I CANT FEEL MY LEGS!  I CANT FEEL MY BALLS!

‘DOWN DOWN DOWN’ the crewman bawled and we dunked our heads under the freezing cold water. The cold cold water made my head ache, but I forgot everything as I stared at the huge creature in front of me.

It was massive. It was regal. It was a killer. It was the king of the sea.

That streamlined body, those rippling muscles, those teeth...I noticed anew – I knew it theoretically, but actually seeing it was something else – that it had two rows of teeth – one pointing outwards and one pointing inwards. Nothing caught in those teeth was going anywhere except inside the shark.

It was the same feeling you get when you see a wild tiger for the first time in a jungle – except of course that various parts of my body were shutting down due to the cold. Permanent sterility – here I come.

I came out of the water and gasped in air, and immediately came the stentorian shout –DOWN DOWN DOWN’  and I took a deep breath again and went down.

The shark had just swum lazily by, when it noticed the bag of fish heads – and in fraction of a second, it transformed from a quiet lazy swimmer to a killing machine! All muscles tightened and in less time than it takes to tell, it turned and zoomed towards the packet, mouth wide open showing all those teeth and coming straight at us.

The crewman pulled it away at the last moment, much to the irritation of the shark, who went off thinking WTF! and we surfaced and went WHOOOOO...WHAT A SIGHT, when the crew alerted us again ‘DOWN DOWN DOWN’

The shark was back and it was pissed! The crewman threw out the bag of fish heads again and the shark raced for it! No bullshit this time – it meant business. But again, the bag was pulled out but the shark couldn’t stop its forward momentum and came and crashed against the tank, right in front of my face!

We were less than 6 inches apart! I stared into that shark’s eyes at point blank range!

SHIT.

SHIT

SHIT

I almost let loose the natural shark repellent.

(photo by fellow diver Kosmas Koumianos  - http://www.kosmaskoumianos.com)

Nothing happened – the cage held, and the shark swam away bemused. But what a feeling it was! I burst upwards and screamed out WOOO HOOO as everyone applauded.

 It was the ultimate sighting.

‘You guys don’t know how lucky you are.’ The dive master said to us on the way back. ‘the weather, the lighting, the shark experience – it was the best we have had in months.’

No kidding, I said. It was awesome.

‘By the way ...’ the dive master asked as we were leaving. ‘How come you were not scared? I have seen so many people, and they would have shit their pants, but you were quite calm. How come?’

I shrugged.

‘Ah. The Shark was OK.....but not a patch on my wife. You should see her when she is in a temper.’ 

(this one by me ;0) 

The Wine tour

I love wine. I love it like I love Cricket.

Just like cricket, my interaction with it consists of reading about it than actually experiencing it. 

I may not be able to bowl a wicked bouncer or smash a ball for six, but by golly – I can sure talk about it. I can talk about with knowledge and passion and emotion and ....well, I can talk a lot about it, but haven’t touched a bat or ball for ages.

Similarly, I have read a lot about wine – I have read stories based on wine, loved characters who talk about wine, realised that the simplest way to show that a character is upper class and erudite is to show him having a deep knowledge of wine. I read about types of wine – cabernet sauvignon, and merlot and pinot noir and all that, and can talk glibly about tannins and grape varieties and how ironic it is that the famous Shiraz grape comes from a town in Iraq where it is probably illegal to make, drink or even think about wine, etc etc.

But actually drinking the stuff – not so much. 

I experimented as much as I could afford with various types of wines – but that was  a short lived experiment during my forced bachelorhood.

After the return of She-who-must-be-obeyed  my home wine drinking came to a screeching halt under her incandescent eye.  Trying to get friends to drink wine resulted only in incredulous looks.  Trying to make friends with people who were already wine drinkers got me even more incredulous looks.

She-who-must-be-obeyed sneered at my attempts to drink wine and grandly announced that she was sending me on a wine tour in South Africa.

 ‘Go and drink wine, you drunken sot.’ She said as she booked the tour ‘lower yourself to the level of the beasts in the field if you wish.’

‘What nonsense.’ I said, stung. ‘I will have you know that wine is a thing of great culture.’

‘The only way you will have culture in you is when you eat some yoghurt re!’ she retorted.

‘Anyway, the tiny tot has exams till then, so I can’t move anywhere – so you go a couple of days earlier and do all these things that I am not interested in.’

OK, I thought – it’s a good idea to keep her away from wine makers. She will sneer at them so much that they will get all dispirited and depressed and commit suicide or something and the whole of South African wine industry will be affected and it will be all my fault.

The thing about wine is that it is a beautiful and nuanced drink, and it is such fun to write about.

‘This wine has a deep straw colour with hints of lime green on the rim. The nose is a complex melange of tropical fruits, such as guava and papayas with greener Sauvignon blanc aromas such as asparagus and lemon grass. The flavours are rich and full and mirror the aromas on the nose. This wine is mouth filling with an apple texture, a slight grip on the finish and a lingering crisp aftertaste.’

‘She’ read this with a scowl  ‘Saala – is this wine or a fruit cocktail?’

This one is even better, I said – showing her the description of the Chardonnay   ‘There is an abundance of fresh fruit aromas on the nose; ripe honeydew melon, pineapple, peach and citrus fruit with a hint of toasted oak. The palate is fresh and fruit driven with a creamy mild palate, a hint of toast on the finish with a long zesty aftertaste.’

Would the writer be so passionate when writing about the actual fruit instead of the wine? I wondered.

This same writer must be the guy whom all the Indian restaurants employ when writing their fancy menus. A guy who can translate dal chaawal into ‘A delectable preparation of the finest golden lentils from central India, mixed with the aromatic  jasmine-white fluffy long grains of the finest rice from Kerala topped with shiny salt crystals from the romantic lands of Kutch.’

So the big day arrived -  and the very first day in south Africa, I was picked up at the hostel by a sweet lady who was our guide. I was the first person she picked up, and she went about the town picking up the rest of the group – an Indo-Canadian, A Scotswoman, a couple of guys from Ivory coast, a bunch of expat students from Cape university.

She started by taking us through the cellar and the factory and telling us how wine is made, but very soon took us to a table and started plying us with wine.We started off with a couple of Champagnes, then some white wines, then some red wines and then ended with some sweet wines.

‘This is a cabernet sauvignon’ she would say, pouring a little bit of wine into each glass . ‘It is a very young wine, bottled in 2013 and has top notes of jasmine, peach and whatever’  and we would all drink and say ‘hmm hmm’ and swirl the wine in our mouth and get amazed at the wonderful taste.

 It sounds like a load of cock when you hear about it – but you can actually get the various tastes that they are talking about. And when you think that these differing tastes were brought about without any external agents – purely through the fermentation of grapes – it’s bloody amazing! You have to try it to get it..

 To quote from the movie ‘Sideways’ – ‘I like to think about the life of wine...how it’s like a living thing. I like to think about what was going on the year the grapes were growing; how the sun was shining; if it rained. I like to think about all the people who tended and picked the grapes. And if it’s an old wine, how many of them must be dead by now. I like how wine continues to evolve, like if I opened a bottle of wine today it would taste different than if I’d opened it on any other day, because a bottle of wine is actually alive. And it’s constantly evolving and gaining complexity...and it tastes so fucking good!’

I could actually feel the difference between each wine and appreciate the qualities of different types of wine.

At first.

After the third winery, they were all tasting the same to me and we were all going HAHAHAHA and HOHOHOHOHO and slapping each other on the back. The ancient romans used to say ‘In Vino Veritas’ – In wine there is truth, but we can also say – ‘In Vino Companis’ – where there is wine, there is good companionship.

 The wine was excellent, the wineries were beautiful, the scenery of the wine country was simply outstanding, and the group was very friendly  - what more can one ask for?  We had a fantastic lunch at a winery– I had a Cape malay dish called ‘Bobotie’ – which was a sweet and spicy mince meat dish which was absolutely smashing.

At the last winery, there was also a cheese tasting, where we pigged out on different kinds of cheese -  from the fresh Feta cheese at one end ( which tasted like a very salty paneer) to an old blue cheese at the other end (which smelt and tasted like disgusting old socks) but had some truly delicious ones in the middle – one sweet fruity one which tasted as good as cheesecake and a couple of spicy ones which were simply yum.

At the end of it, she dropped us back at our hostels – and as I was the first to be picked up, I was the last to be dropped off. I didn't mind it at all as it gave me a chance to see Cape Town.

As she dropped me off, she called out to me and I put my hand in my pocked as I thought she was asking for a tip...

but it turned out to be quite the reverse!

‘As a reward for your patience, I would like to give you a present’ she said, and handed me a bottle of wine. ‘Please enjoy this with your family.’

I was speechless, and quite touched. What a lovely gesture.

‘Thanks.’ I said ‘Thanks a lot’  

And I truly meant it.

The vacation starts!

‘Listen up – we are going on our annual holiday’   She-who-must-be-obeyed announced to me one day.

‘Eh?’ I was startled. ‘We have no money, there are issues out here – how can we go on holidays?’

She-who-must-be-obeyed went purple – any questioning of her travel plans enrages her and turns her into the Incredible Hulk.

‘PUNY HUMAN!’ she screamed at me ‘How dare you question my travel plan?!! HULK SMASH!’

‘OK OK...’ I threw up my hands ‘I was just asking.’

‘The kid has summer holidays and that’s the only time that I get a chance to do a long trip! My life is full of getting her up, bathed and dressed, fixing her breakfast and lunch and leaving her to school! Who is going to do that if I am not here eh? You only sit on that sofa and pretend to be another sofa on top of a sofa! Who will cook dinner? Who will manage the maids? Who will take care of your mother? Who will....’

AAARRGHH. I covered my ears and crawled under the sofa and hid there, trembling – like an inhabitant of Pompeii must have done when the volcano exploded and was saying it with lava and burning ash.

Finally she ran out of steam and calmed down enough to see that I wasn’t even there.  Puzzled, she looked around and finally saw my feet sticking out from under the sofa. 

‘What on earth are you doing down there?’  She asked, bending down to look at me.

‘Oh...um...er...nothing...I...was....just looking for my pen. I thought it might have rolled down under here....’ I crawled out and dusted myself off in a dignified manner.

‘So – please continue – you were saying that we are going on a holiday. Where are we going?’ I asked brightly.

‘South Africa.’ She replied

‘Ah...good...’

‘And Australia’ she continued.

‘Australia!!’ I was dumbfounded. ‘South Africa and Australia! What a combination. I was thinking South Africa and Namibia, or Kenya, or even  Madagascar....but Australia! What relationship between the two apart from the fact that they are both in the Southern hemisphere?’

Then I stopped abruptly – shit, I was criticising her travel plans again!

I looked at her, alarmed – and sure enough, she was swelling like an enraged bullfrog!  First she went red with anger, and then turned large and green as she turned into She Hulk. It was like watching a traffic signal.

‘PUNY HUMAN! HULK SMASH!’

It turned out that she had already got the South Africa visa and Australia visa, booked the tickets, planned the itinerary, done the reservations, told the maids, cancelled the milk, and consoled a tearful mother in law.

‘You lazy bugger! Time for you to do some work.’ She growled at me.

‘Maine kab na bola?’ I protested. ‘I didn’t even know that work was going on. I would love to do some work. I live to do work. I thrive on work. I am a worker, not a drone.’

‘Yeah yeah.’ She said ‘Listen – I want  you to go to ICICI bank and get some foreign exchange. Can you do that?’

I nodded intelligently ‘Right. ICICI bank. Foreign exchange. I can do that. Piece of cake.’

‘Go to ICICI bank – ask them what their exchange rates are – then call me – I will tell you if the rates are OK – DO NOT ATTEMPT TO USE YOUR JUDGEMENT – then get X amount loaded on a travel card, and Y amount in CASH. Got that?’

I saluted smartly and went off to the bank, and found the foreign exchange guy.

‘What are your foreign exchange rates, my good man?’ I asked him grandly.

He got all excited – he must have thought that I am going to buy a few crores worth of dollars – and looked at his terminal and gave me some numbers, and was completely astonished when I just nodded and walked off.

‘Sir – where are you going?’

‘Just  a sec – let me tell my wife the rates and then she will tell me whether I should buy or not.’

‘Ah!’ The bank guy got the situation in an instant. I was just the hey you – the real buyer was the wife. ‘Then maybe I should talk to ma’m directly.’

‘Er...OK.’ I handed the phone to him. He started talking confidently, but within a minute he turned pale and started sweating – by the end of the conversation he was just a pale watery blob.

‘Yes ma’m yes ma’m yes ma’m’ he was babbling ‘I will tell sir the rates.’ I took the phone away from him before he burst into tears.

He immediately gave me a much reduced rate on the AUD loaded the travel card immediately, but he said that currency notes were not available and I should collect them tomorrow.

‘OK’ I replied and went whistling back home.

At home, SHE asked me ‘ Where are the currency notes?’

‘Oh – he didn’t have them in stock.’ I replied breezily. ‘Asked me to get them tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?!!’ she asked incredulously. ‘TOMORROW?!!’

‘Er...yes...’ I replied, edging back – not liking the vein pulsing in her forehead.

‘Did he give you a written commitment on the rates?’ she asked with a dangerous calm.

‘Er...no...’ I replied, edging back even more.

‘YOU HAD ONE JOB!’ she screamed. ‘ONE JOB! TO COLLECT FOREX’

‘but....but...’ I spluttered, as I watched her turn large and green.

‘HULK SMASH!!!’

Sure enough, the boy I had spoken to took the next day off  - talking to SHE must have given the poor fellow brain damage – and his manager was incredulous at the rates he had given, and refused to release forex at that rate.  I thought of releasing SHE on him, but then decided against it as I didn’t want to shut that branch down. the panic might spread from branch to branch and next thing you know - ICICI would be tottering. It might spark off  a banking crisis and Raghuram Rajan would be screaming WTF and tearing his hair out. 

So, in the larger interest of nation building and a stable banking system, I didn't pursue the issue any further. 

Bharathi threw up her hands in despair when I told her and went off mumbling ‘ONE JOB....’

The next thing I knew, I was at the airport in front of the immigration desk.

‘South Africa.....and Australia?!!’ the immigration clerk looked at the ticket with some confusion.

‘Why?’

What could I say to him....I didn’t have any idea myself.

‘Er... I don’t know exactly...’ I confessed, and the immigration officer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

‘Actually my wife planned the whole thing, and I didn’t dare to ask why.’

He looked at me incredulously and then  looked at the spouse name in my passport and recoiled, as if he had been holding a live cobra!

‘AAARRGHHH!!’ he screamed ‘BHARATHI ?!!’  he quickly stamped the passport and pushed it back at me.

‘GO GO GO...’ he said.

‘And ...er...’ I stopped and he smiled shyly at me ‘Enjoy your holiday.’