July 25, 2009

18:07 CDT

It starts in Chicago.

The American Airlines lounge in K Terminal lopes into quiet time.  Business men in shirtsleeves take in cricket highlights on the BBC.  A woman in a sari munches on almonds, taking little sips of soda water. 

Already I feel that I am in another place.

July 26, 2009

01:49 CDT/12:19 Delhi

In 3J on a 777 staffed by the geriatric ward (what is it w. U.S. carriers and long-haul attendants?)  How did I wind up in Mick Jaeger Class? 

I doze off with some Bollywood tunes milking through the Bose phones Rhinga, rhinga, rhinga . . .

20:07 DEL Airport

H1N1 form filled out (symptoms negative).  Breeze through immigration (is this India or Narita?).  I am standing @ baggage claim.  I see a wall of whiskey, one part Chivas and the other Johnnie Walker. Delhi 60-something businessmen are standing in line to buy it.

“Two for one CHIVAS!” chortles some duty free hawker.

I turn to a grey-haired exectuvie carrying a Samonsite attaché and a two bottles of Johnnie Walker.  I tell him that I am going to be a guest of General Singh’s tonight for dinner.  Should I bring the General some whiskey?  The guy nods in approval. 

Now I am pulling my luggage.  I exit into the arrivals hall.  It is madness.  There are signs in Hindi (how do you spell “Brownstein” in Hindi?).  It is like Newark airport, but so many more drivers with signs.  One huge section is only drivers from Taj Hotels.  They are clad in cream colored uniforms.  Many of them have turbans.

One of them has my sign! “A. Brownstein!” I feel like I have really arrived.  The giant Sikh takes my suitcase from me.  It is the last time I will carry my own luggage for a week.

21:03 en route to General Singh’s

I start asking about the Sikh culture.  I get answers.

This week is the Festival of the Sixth Guru.  The Sixth Guru was so wise that he could send a thought from his mind to yours without speaking, and my driver friend illustrates this by taking his index finger from his turban and then putting it on to my head.  He keeps pressing my head for emphasis.

I ask him about the turban and Sikhs, and he explains that exchanging turbans is a sacred form of friendship.  He also notes that if the turban is aggressively knocked off or taken, it may mean an unsavory end to the perpetrator.

I elect not to touch his head.

21:35 Arrive @ General Singh’s

I walk up a flight of stairs to a beautiful flat.  I see my beautiful wife.  She is dressed in some kind of Indian garment.  She is crying.  We have not seen each other in six weeks.  There are other people in the room, but all I see is her.

We are holding hands, and now I am meeting Indians.  General Singh is big and gregarious.  His wife is small and lovely.  Their in-laws are chatty,  and their daughter is hip.  I see my own family now. . . my dad, his wife, my brother, sister-in-law, sister.  It’s wonderful to be here.  Everyone is eating kabobs.  Now they are eating channa.

I am getting sleepy, and General Singh is smiling, wolfing down dahl and rice with his hand. 

22:48 @ the Taj New Dehli

Our van is checked with mirrors for bombs.  Feels like curry version of Tel Aviv, in a very good way. 

We walk into the lobby, and there are 20-somethings seeping out of some bar in the back.  They are the Dehli “it” crowd, and I feel like the time-to-sleep crowd.

July 27^th

06:37 @ the Hotel Gym

Some fellow in an Adidas track suit is following me around as I move from cardio to core.  He is offering me 200 ml bottles of Himalaya Water (a Tata Product). 

8:21 the Breakfast Buffet

My wife and step-mum explain what Idli is.  Dipped in coconut chutney is DY-NO-MITE!  I order a double espresso from the dining room captain.  It is Taj-o-licious.

9:14 We depart for a tour of Delhi

A new Ministry of Textiles building.  An old British Viceroy residents.  A really old mosque.  We take in the sites one after the other.

We visit the Gandhi Memorial, and our guide informs us that Gandhi was indeed “a true Christian.”  What’s up with that?

14:23 Tour is over, and it is lunch time

Best saag paneer of all time!

16:37-18:00 Best Jet lag nap of all time

20:37 Dinner at the Kapur House

Lovely friends from Linda’s HBS days.  They poor a mean whiskey and serve amazing kabobs.  It seems that everyone in the business community in India knows each other.  It is like Linked In . . . minus the unbelievably lame Linked In experience.  Arjun, their son-in-law, and I have a  Johnnie Walker Black after dinner.  One more, and we will be starting a company by next week.

July 28^th

9:37 the Load Out in front of the Taj

Suresh, our sweet-as-can-be driver asks Neill, Lindy, Will, Melissa, Emily, Megumu and Aj if we have everything in the van.  We are leaving for the mystical wonders of Agra, and there is no turning back.

We confirm that we are set to go!

9:41 four blocks from the Taj

“I forgot my Passport.”  Emily, you are my sister, and I love you.  But that is a bush-league maneuver.

12:17 a rest stop en route to Agra

We pull into the roadside area, and park the van.  Some kid nestled on the ground opens up a basket, and a cobra grands up out of the thing.  The kid is playing some wooden flute.  The who thing is surreal.

14:17 We reach the Oberoi in Agra

There are two marble elephants adorned in marigolds at the entrance.  Beyond lies a series of carved marble pools.  Beyond that, the entrance to the Oberoi.

We walk in, and one of the hottest Indian women ever places marigolds around my neck and smudges a Hindi welcome above my brow.  I barely sense her beauty, not only because my wife is also getting the royal welcome, but because in the distance, I see the Taj Mahal.

It is a kind of muggy, misty day, and the minuets and main pearl drop loft out of the green like some perfect poem.  This son of Akbar the Great really loved his wife.

14:53 Golf cart to the Main Gate of the Taj Mahal

Our guide, Rajeev, shares the history of the place.  King takes his wife everywhere (even the battlefield).  Wife dies in childbirth on baby #14.  Wife asks for a nice place where her subjects can pay homage.  King takes the whole thing very seriously, and builds the Taj Mahal.

We spend about an hour posing in front of the thing.  The light is flat, so we decide to walk closer.  There are women in the most colorful saris ever. 

We duck into the main mausoleum, and see the tomb of the king and queen (actually, it is a replica; the reel tomb is several feet below the building).  Legend tells that the kind was buried with his left side facing his bride so that his heart could be close to her.)

During the course of our tour inside, a brief monsoon rain washed the sky clean.  The sky is powder blue, and the dusk light is now settling upon the main spire.  It’s really pretty to see this.

17:31-18:28 Jet lag nap @ the Oberoi

I wake up, and I see the Taj outside the window.  Looks even better now. 

20:30 @ the Principal Restaurant

Megumu and I settle in for our first dinner together in India.  There is soft sitar music playing at one end of the grand dining room.  We have a 50-yard-line seats in front of the tandoor masters. 

The rest of the family comes to join us, and we feast out on sinister black lentils (one spoonful is 1,000 calories).

23:11 I fall into an Oberoi pillow with black lentils swirling all around the white marble of the Taj Mahal.