Notes from a navaratri trip to Seoul

The hat trick

Three years in a row now, I have played Houdini around Navaratri time. Set up the golu, leave on a trip and return just in time for Vijayadasami (and dismantling); skipping the social aspect of the festival altogether. Oh, and leaving the wife to take care of inviting people over, entertaining and running the show. By herself.

The clash of the calendars

Around September and October is when the Hindu and Jewish calendars are brimming with festivals. Vinayaka chaturthi, Varalakshmi poojai, Navarathri, Vijayadasami on the one hand competing with Rosh Hashannah, Yom Kippur and Co. on the other. Festivals are good especially if you love food. But in the global world we live in, the latter have a stronger branding than the former that leaves guys like me traveling to meet upset customers during golu and whining away in a remote corner of the internet post facto. People, at least the ones I work with, are aware that Americans can’t be asked to travel around Thanksgiving, Chinese folks in February or Jewish people around RH. But sadly even the regulars at Indian lunch buffets don’t seem to be aware of our festivals of which there are many. The solution: I’m pitching Varalakshmi vratam cards, Pillayar chathurthi coconut chocolates and karva chauth dolls to Hallmark! In about a year, America won’t schedule business trips on avani avittam or even start a new project on a prathamai during rahu kalam. You’re welcome!

The ring

No, it is not the scary movie. I’m talking about the hottest accessory that I saw on everyone’s hand in Seoul. And it’s not even wedding season in Korea – although I could be wrong. The ring is attached to the back side of the cell phone and comes in handy for the very purpose these sophisticated phones are built: for taking selfies. Everyone and their mothers had one hanging off their phones. Run your finger through the hole and click away knowing that the phone ain’t falling down. In a way it makes sense that they are “coupled” to their phones by a ring since most of them seem to spend more time on the phone rather than with their BFs/GFs/spouses.

Navaratri at Incheon

So I missed out on homemade sundal. But on the way back, I satisfied my sundal craving in the lounge at Incheon airport. I was sniffing around for vegetarian stuff when a pretty girl of the lounge crew walked up to me and learning my predicament, asked whether I would like to have lentil salad. The dish had not yet been brought out from the kitchen when she handed me a bowl of channa, rajma and black-eyed beans salad and a bottle of tabasco! Kamsahamnida dee kondhe! (Non Koreans and non Tamils excuse!) If only she had started a rendition of a“gaja vadhana…” my Navaratri setting would have been picture (and sound) perfect. 

Open letter to the TSA agent at SFO international

At the outset, thank you for keeping our airports safe. Although the least likeable part of flying is clearing security, I fully realize the reasons behind the hassles. One must grin and bear the long lines and annoyances in the assurance that flying may not be fun but at least safe(r). A sad reflection of the times we live in.

With the politically correct statements out of the way, I do have a problem that I would like to highlight. It is how you insist that I place my shoes in the same tray as my laptop, the bag or the jacket.

On Sunday, at SFO, I placed my laptop, the bag and the contents of my pockets on one tray and my shoes on an adjacent one on the security scan conveyor belt. For no apparent reason, you walked up to me, picked up my shoes and deposited them right on top of my laptop. When I protested, your response was “No shoes in a tray.” I will not waste my time looking for meaning in that half-brained response. And to clarify, there were enough trays around that day for everyone to use separate ones for their left and right shoes. 

You left me with no option but to defy you and put them back in a separate tray: the way they were before you monkeyed with it. And when you tried to put them back on the same tray, I had to tell you firmly and loudly that I will not place my shoes on my laptop before you went away. Yes, words not fit to be reproduced here were muttered under the breath, dirty looks exchanged but I had to do what I felt was the right thing. I’ll put up with shit to ensure passenger safety but complying with some random security agent’s whims is where I shall draw the line.

You see, I come from a culture that places learning and the associated tools on a deservedly high pedestal. We have a god for learning, of course, and incidentally, the day to pay respects to that deity is just around the corner. And we leave our footwear outside before entering our homes. And if by accident we step on even a scrap piece of paper, we were taught to apologize for it. That's right. However, I don’t write this with an intention to preach about Hindu and Indian sensibilities concerning not mixing books and footwear.

The laptop is, among other things, an integral tool of my trade and placing my footwear on top of it goes beyond religious or cultural mores: it is downright unhygienic. Commonsense 101. But to quote my father, these are things that no school teaches. One’s got to pick them up on his own. It is not a crime to be from a culture where footwear inside the house or medicines in the toilet is acceptable. Perhaps you have better immunity for all I know. But the next time you see someone place their shoes in a separate tray, just leave them alone. Believe me, that does not endanger the safety of passengers or airplanes in any way.