STRUCK GOLD!

This whole ‘luck’ thing is a strange phenomenon – one that strikes you when you least expect it – especially when you are sitting amidst a whole pile of unwashed clothes, in a city that will never be yours, while you scratch your crotch and contemplate how to remove that tiny dot of dirt sitting smug under your big toenail.

I experienced something of this sort last week. After spending almost a month in Mumbai, I was beginning to feel the stress of finding my own place to stay, provided it didn’t eat right into my hollow little pocket like Laurel and Hardy at an all-day dining.

Clothes eventually washed and stuffed into a backpack, I retired to the care of a rickshaw-wala who’s diction, interspersed with beetle juice and nose/mustache hair reminded me of rat-cries that infest the late nights of the society that I stay in. I was on my way to the railway station – on my way to Manipal.

Now, the funny thing about staying with your crazy old classmates and your 18-till-I-die parents in ‘Baliga Lodge’ is that you won’t wake up to the security guard staring into your keyhole in the dead of the night or asking you if you want ‘maal’ when you least expect it.  (Or maybe you will). Whether they mean illicit substances or a database of harem girls, we will never know. *thankgodness*

Manipal, a place where the police force of our country has never been spotted at work, was spilling with armed men in uniforms, dark circles and large pot bellies – possibly from late drinking sessions and never-ending complains about being put to work. The president of our country was to attend the Manipal University convocation. Imagine that!

Now, yours truly was to receive an award from the University – a Gold Medal under the title of being the Best outgoing MS Communication post-graduate student, to be precise. Turns out that Madam P was to hand this over personally. Which also means that I was whisked away from the rest of my looney friends only to sit friendless and alone alongside the other award winners while my pals jeered about Madam P’s potentially bald head and the fact that she would collapse due to the weight of the medals she was handing out.

Robes worn, sweat under Graduation Hat generated, and over an hour of waiting-for-the-President-to-arrive later, it felt like I had the extreme privilege of being in the cast of a badly made Harry Potter film. Only, we had to leave our magic wands a.k.a cell phones back at the hotel room due to security purposes. What fun! Sure enough there were glitches – like my I.D card had the face of Percy on it (Good ole’ Prashit won Gold in the undergraduate section), and our hats kept falling off if our heads were at any but the straight line angle. The ceremony started and ended before the President could say *aaah-meri-kamar*!

Copious amounts of alcohol, Dollops Chicken Lollypop and loud DeeTee music later we retired to the comforts of our bus/train seats – either on the way back home, or like me, on the way to Gokarna.

Now to add diversion to this rant about my past week, it should be said that when in Gokarna, you have to stay in the tiny little hunts that line the backs off the half-naked foreigners that sprawl carefree on the beaches as a reminder of how modern society should actually be like. Madam P, if you are reading this, you should visit this place to understand what gives people their happiness quotient. (Note: Go on a disguise. If I may suggest one, leave your pallu (and trail of sirens) at home.) Also, I warn you that you will have to travel half a kilometer if you want to visit the loo – but then again, you can do as cats do and simply dig a hole. 🙂

Sand, sea, moonshine, prawns and good company can make you forget that you have to go back and swim in the world forced on you – especially when it consists of an average of 10.5 people per square foot like in Mumbai. Kicking and screaming I left Gokarna. Only, I traveled back to Mangalore,  to the beautiful family of the Roches (Hi Sheryl) and to the fact that the only ticket back to Mumbai I could get was on board an Air India plane. *Nocomplainspromise*

My first ever flight experience! Take that Richard Branson! Window seat, thin coast lines, tiny ships, whisps of cloud, two empty seats beside me… I could do it again, a million times. They even served me cake! (Yes, you may make fun of me at will. )

I spent a beautiful day on the beach with the boy I’m in love with, my parents have never been more proud and life comes full circle here in Bombay. I’ve been gilded in gold!