Tandoori Texan Tales by Raj Dore
TANDOORI TEXAN
TALES
By
Raj Doré
© 2003 by Raj Doré. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without
written permission from the author.
ISBN: 1-4107-6999-2 (e-book)
ISBN: 1-4107-6998-4 (Paperback)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2003094864
This book is printed on acid free paper.
Printed in the United States of America
Bloomington, IN
1stBooks - rev. 10/24/03
CONTENTS
1. The Celebrity—A Novel ............................................... 1
2. Coming To America....................................................93
3. Sojourn.......................................................................109
4. Potshots At Hotshots.................................................145
5. Tryst With A Mystery Woman - A Fiction .............155
6. Paradise Lost & Paradise Regained........................169
iii
THE CELEBRITY
1
CHAPTER 1
It all started with American Airlines Flight 523 at the Dallas/Fort worth International Airport. Seema, my wife dropped me off at the Terminal A by the curbside at 3:30PM on that Sunday afternoon, and drove off before it was going to be Munni’s feed time.
I was on my weekly jaunt to Raleigh, North Carolina. I had one leg here and one leg there. I was working on a project to provide Software Consultancy to Carolina Power & Utility Company, while my home was still in Dallas.
I was called a Contract Consultant. Large corporations would often hire people like me to help them out with sudden surge of work. While they needed extra hands to get over such humps, they loathed hiring permanent employees.
Permanent employees would need extra cost to part with, when it was time to bid them good bye. Stockholders would also be quite pleased that the total payroll was kept low. This was of course a fallacy. The cost came back to them by way of revolving door when the same personnel were called in as hourly contractors, like me. For me working as an independent contractor brought a higher income while I took the risk of not finding work between two contracts.
I had to rent an apartment in Raleigh for the duration of this 6-month project that had now extended to over a year. I would fly home every Friday night and get back to the Project, on Sunday night. On some weekends Seema and Munni would fly down to Raleigh as well. They could not do that all the time due to Seema’s job in Dallas or her sheer unwillingness.
The skycap politely informed me that curbside check-in for baggage was put on hold that evening due to a security alert. ‘Security Alert’, oh my God how many times have I had to put up with that phrase? Would life ever get back to its normalcy of 2 years ago? Those Al-Qaida guys had surely got the whole country topsy-turvy.
As I kept mumbling to myself, I swished my Visa into the Cart-smart and pulled out a handcart. I loaded my luggage on to it and slowly started pushing it toward the escalator. As usual there was a long line of frustrated passengers trying to get through the Security Check. After standing in the rear for a few minutes I felt even more exasperated at the slowness of the movement in front of me. Only way I found some solace was by looking over my shoulders and
TANDOORI TEXAN TALES - RAJ DORÉ
seeing how long the line had grown behind me. Life itself is like that, is it not? If only you look at people more unfortunate than you are, you feel yourself not so unlucky after all.
The whole process did finally come grindingly to an end. After checking the stuff in and going through the turnstiles, I found that I still had a good 45 minutes for the Flight.
I was glad I had the membership to the American Airlines’ Admirals Club. This is a small little niche where you can rise above the dust and din of travelling crowds. You realize its importance if you are constantly living out of your suitcase and running along miles and miles of airport conveyor belts, for making a living. For a mere $350 per year you can buy an entry to this home between your homes.
There are always those charming hostesses with smiling faces that politely first ask you to show your membership card. Having established your identity, they take you into their wings. There are spacious areas for relaxing, reading, watching TV or just do nothing. If you are a business traveler like me, you can even hook up your laptop and catch up with your reports due next morning. There are soft lights, music and a bar for someone needing uplifting of spirits, literally.
At about 5 minutes before the Boarding time, I gathered my hand baggage and got through the gangway into the waiting aircraft. There was again a long line of people on the aisle trying to shove their hand luggage on to the bin overhead and squeezing their way into the appropriate seats. Then there were those moms trying to manage a few unruly brats in one hand and some baggage on the other.
My seat, as I had requested while making the booking, was fortunately on the aisle side of one of the front rows. I settled down quickly and strapped myself.
Once the Flight Crew cleared the aisles after serving what passes off as evening snacks, I felt like stretching myself a little. Since the toilets on the rear were too far, I thought I would use the ones in the front. I passed through the First Class cabin. After refreshing myself, I languidly started walking back. Then what transpired changed rest of my life.
The First Class was very sparsely occupied, just two or three people in all those 20 odd seats. I spotted one face that struck my solar plexus like a ton of bricks. She was wearing Salvar-kameez and had covered a good portion of her head with the Dupatta. She pretended to be engrossed in a book, quite oblivious of the surroundings. The setting sun shone through the window on her side. She was wearing very large sunglasses that covered almost one-third of her face. Very obviously, she valued her privacy very dearly and did not want to be recognized. Even then, it struck me that she seemed very familiar, as if I might have met her some where, some time. But I just could not place a label on that face. I kept walking and came back to my seat.
The sun had set after a while. The lights had been dimmed. Only some soft lights at the aisle were kept on. Some passengers had turned on their reading lights. I stood up and walked toward the First Class cabin once again, wanting to take another look at this mysterious passenger. The reading light illuminated her face partially; it was still buried in the book. Only then slowly, it all came back to me.
She was Archana Roy. Yes, oh my God! It was indeed she. I had watched her on the movie screen so many times.
My first reaction was to want to walk up to her and ask if it was really she. If I had still been in my college days, I might have done it. I have done it with several celebrities while in the University. If nothing else, at least ask for an autograph and show proudly to my friends. My collection of autographs included stars from several walks of life, Cricketers, Statesmen, visiting celebrity Speakers at the
College functions and yes, Movie Stars.
But now things were so different, after having entered real workaday world. It seemed so silly for somebody to do that at my station in life. You are less inclined to take the risk of your pride being hurt. Besides, it was so obvious to me that she was quite insistent on not being recognized. I gave up that whole idea.
I continued cranking on my laptop keyboard. This report was due at 10:00AM next morning. If I were not ready with it for the presentation at the Staff Meeting, Don Welsner,
Usually I schedule these periodic trips home at least a month ahead of time. But my trip previous week had to be rescheduled for this week, at the last minute. Don had insisted that I stay back and get the Payroll System’s conversion fully tested before I left. It had been impossible for me to get a direct flight from Dallas to Raleigh. The best I could do was this flight, hopping via Little Rock, Arkansas and Atlanta, Georgia.
The Little Rock Airport is a relatively small wayside airport with much fewer facilities. The stopover was for some 45 minutes. Some of us got down to walk around in the airport. I gathered my briefcase, shoulder bag and the laptop. Then I came out of the plane slowly walking down the gangway.
As I was browsing at the gift shop, I looked through the corner of my eyes. She had also got down and was browsing at another corner of the shop. The lounge was inside the Secure Area and I wanted to remain within that. I did not find anything interesting at the shop. I settled down at a lounge chair and resumed working on the report.
However I saw that she had wandered out of the secure area, possibly to look around other shops outside.
Some ten minutes before boarding time, I once again put all of my stuff together to get back into the flight. As I passed along the boarding gate, I heard some altercation near the Security Check area. Curious as to what could it be, I looked around to find that the Security Guard was having some heated arguments with her. There was obviously some problem as she was trying to get back through the Security Check.
I might have kept walking, minding my own business. As luck would have it, I came toward the scene of disturbance and volunteered to intervene. The Security people were keen that she be strip searched and thoroughly examined as they considered her a security risk. She on the other hand was quite insistent that she should not be put to any such humiliation.
As it happens in most such instances, there were also probably plenty of communication gaps. She conversing in her convent educated British accent and they trying to convey their thoughts in heavy Southern flair. As there were plenty of people waiting behind her to get in, the scene of altercation was moved into another location while the rest of the passengers were allowed to keep moving.
The other location happened to be the office of Sergeant Steve McKlusky, as it was announced on the brass plate outside its door. There was a glass panel that secluded the office from rest of the lounge, making it possible for outsiders to see but not hear, what was going on within. Sergeant McKlusky was the Chief Security Officer of the Airport. He was not in the chamber at that time. There were Officers Pete Williams and Maria Hernandez. The former was an African American while the latter, a Hispanic young lady. They were trying to interrogate her in all possible ways and she was being defiant. I knocked on the door, slowly opened it and literally stuck my neck into that confrontation. I smiled and looked at Officer Williams and said “Officer, there seems to be some problem here. Could you use some help?” He readily smiled back and said, “Thanks very much for asking Sir. Yes, we sure can use some help. Please step in.”
They explained to me that they were under a very high alert of Security threat that day and were totally unwilling to take any chances whatsoever. I wondered if they focussed their suspicion on her due to her attire and looks, but decided not to exacerbate the situation by kicking in more controversy. I spoke out, “Officers, I quite realize you are doing your duty and doing it very well. As a matter of fact, we as passengers feel so much more confident of travelling because of good Officers like you. She already went through one Security Check while boarding at Dallas, is it not? Please let me tell you further that, I am Dr. Rohit Sharma holding a Ph.D., in Computer Engineering from the Cockerell-Hill University of Dallas, Texas. I am a U.S. Citizen currently flying to Raleigh North Carolina on an assignment to provide software design to the Carolina Power & Light on their Nuclear Security System. Please allow me assure you that this young lady is no potential or real Terrorist. You could safely let her go.”
Officer Maria Hernandez spoke first. “Thank you Sir. However, you have not established what is her relationship with you and how could you be so sure of her”.
“Could both of you please step into the ante-room with me? I would like to show you something in private. Please close the door behind you”, I replied.
I opened my briefcase and pulled out the latest edition of “News India Times”, a sister publication of “The Times of India”, coming out of New York City. I flipped to the 9th page. On the one side it had a large picture of Archana Roy being crowned Miss Universe from a couple of years ago. On the another side there was her picture receiving the Urvashi (The Most Outstanding Actress of the Year) Award from the President of India. There was a write up on her as well.
I showed it to them and told them, “You guys are making a big mistake. I strongly suggest you drop the whole case and quietly back off. Otherwise there is going to be plenty of ugly publicity for everybody, especially you. If you wish, you may call Sergeant McKlusky at home and ask. If it would help, I am willing to call Senator Jesse Helms of North Carolina and let his staff talk to you. I doubt whether that is the route you all wish to take.”
There was a stunned silence for a couple of minutes. I closed the briefcase and walked out of the room, back into the lounge. I saw her coming out of the room as well.
American Airlines Flight 523 had taken off in the meantime without us. There was another flight via Minneapolis reaching Raleigh at 2AM. Even that was full and I was going to be 15th on the waiting list, not a good chance, by any means.
My first concern was my 10 O’clock meeting next morning 900 miles away. If I did not show up with that report, Don Wilsner would cut me into pieces and eat raw with his salad for lunch. I called him from the nearest telephone kiosk. Thank God, I was able to get through.
His little daughter picked up the phone and told me that her dad was watching his Alma Mater, UNC playing Nebraska in the Final Six of NCAA Basketball. I asked her how UNC was faring so far. Not too good, she said. That means Don was going to be in a sullen mood. When he finally came on the line, I asked him if anyway the meeting could be postponed by 24 hours. After some grumbling and groaning, he said he would check with his boss and call me back. In another half an hour my cell phone rang. Yes that was going to be okay.
CHAPTER 2
I did not want to take any more chances with flights. Only
way I could be sure of reaching, even 24 hours later was to
rent a car and drive all the way. I was at the Avis counter
waiting anxiously for them to check out availability of some
decent Wheels.
I saw her walking toward me. She smiled. Extending her
hand, she said, “Thank you so very much. You saved me
from a very ugly embarrassment”. I asked her not to
mention it at all. Then I asked her, what her further plans
were? Whither was she heading next?
She was stuck from reaching her destination as well. What
was worse, she did not have even the wherewithal that I had
grabbed out of the deserting aircraft. As it turned out, her
13
RAJ DORÉ
wallet with money and credit cards were all left on board
the flight that was 35,000 feet above mother Earth. All she
had got down with, was her handbag with her passport,
travel papers and some small money stuck in one of its
pockets.
I wanted to help and asked further. Did she know anybody
here or elsewhere that she could call? Would she wish to
use my calling card?
As it turned
called them, they had gone for the weekend and had not
returned yet. She left a message on their answering
machine. She had nowhere else to go as she loathed asking
anybody else especially the business contacts. I told her of
my plans and offered her a ride, if she wished to hitch hike
with me. She seemed to have little better alternative.
After checking my Driver License and Credit Card, Avis
made me sign the rental papers. What we got was a green
Toyota Camry, 4-door sedan. I threw my few belongings in
the back seat. I strapped myself in the driver seat and
opened the door on the other side for her to get in. By about
7:30PM Central Time, we were on our way. I tried keeping
cool with my companion and concentrated on driving.
She broke the ice and came clean. She said, “I know very