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Straight Post

Desi Dairies – My first day in USA

imagePacking a 6’4 in an economy class seat for 25 hours at a stretch is more painful than watching Rahul Gandhi deliver speech at the parliament. I made it through, only to realize that USA, unlike India is on the complete other side of everything.

Morning

The first thing I did after my arrival is to visit the beach. To describe that day in the beach as a cold morning would be an understatement.  In my T-shirt, sweater and a leather jacket, I was almost looking like DiCaprio in the Revenant minus the beard and the looks.  I was literally shivering. Then suddenly I saw a lady in shorts and Hawaiian shirt breeze past me running towards the beach and I said to myself that she must be crazy waiting to catch a cold. I was wrong.  As time passed semi naked men, women and children started swarming the beach basking in the freezing hot sun and playing with the waves which I am almost sure will kill any south Indian instantly with Hypothermia.

Afternoon

Then I took the famous walk of bums amongst scores of women trying to tan the better half of their bodies. That moment I realized 2 ultimate truths :  first, there is no direct correlation between little john’s activity and a woman’s attire which I have been denying all these days; Second, if all the women out there are butt naked, bosoms are completely uninteresting.

Evening

Not that I miss Indian food already but I was forced by my H1B processed – I 420 processing – I 862 signed – GC  in process desi friends to visit an Indian restaurant.  Ironical that the very first US restaurant I visited happened to be an Indian restaurant. Inside the gloomy modest restaurant, when I opened the menu, something incredible happened for the very first time: auto tears.

I don’t know the exact reason but my DMDC aka Desi Mental Dollar calculator is in auto-on mode all the time -and whenever I see any  number beside a $ sign-the rupee equivalent subconsciously flashes inside my head. Being so bad at math from my childhood I can now safely boast my expertise in 66.37 table that I now know by heart without even trying.

Dosa – $8, Masala dosa  – $9.5, Onion dosa – $8.75. Are you f*** kidding me. My DMDC automatically calculated the average cost of a dosa to be Rs 550 and my head instantly became a breaking news TV screen. Things that I did just before my travel flashed all across: Barbeque nation Rs 445 + tax ;  Mastizaade + Kya kool hai hum 3 + Dead pool =  Rs 450 etc.  When the dosa arrived and after seeing the outrageously small chutney cup, I was about to shout at the waiter “Do you have any damn clue how much a dosa costs in Babai hotel in Attapur Hyderabad? – Rs 10 and the bloody Upma is FREE. To compensate for the loss, I was compelled to ask for repeated servings of the chutney which I stopped after the second time when the server gave me the ‘are you that cheap’ look for which I reverted back with ‘ofcourse I am’.

Overall, my first day in Amreeca has been an overwhelming experience – a concoction of pumping adrenaline coupled with moments of utter enlightenment.

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SP is all about freewill. I was once a revolutionary who lost his ideals in technology, a philosopher who lost his integrity in debugging and a poet who lost his soul in coding. SP is just the way I see the world. No hard feelings.

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