Getting Back

On the way to Hyderabad, every flight was on time. Even with the hitch in our plans caused by my expired passport. In fact it was a symphony of airports and airplanes.

On the way back things went smoothly till we reached JFK. The preceding flight from Doha to New York had gone off much better than we expected. The kids slept for most of the 14 hours and watched a couple of movies. Evan had made the transfer at Doha airport including one of the two security checks in deep sleep. And he woke up in the immigration line at JFK and got cranky enough for them to move us very quickly to the front. The luggage took for ever. But within three hours of landing we were at our gate for the Austin flight.

JFK was covered in snow outside. And in cots inside where passengers had camped out. The departure displays were mostly yellow and red from delays and cancellations. I didn't really think we were going to make it out. The flight to LA that was at our gate never took off - which resulted in a gate change announcement for us. We arrived at the new gate and it was empty. I expected it to remain so. Then an aircraft pulled up. They announced that it would take about 20 minutes for the passengers to deplane and 15 more to prepare it for the next flight. I spied our crew standing by the gate. I finally dared to believe that we'd actually get to Austin today.

Then nothing happened. After an hour they said that they couldn't get power to the aircraft to charge it up and get started. The jet bridge power wasn't working. Neither was the first  portable generator they tried.

Vivian and Evan found a friend - Anya - with whom they played in front of the windows. They played I-spy and hide and go seek and colored. And made play date arrangements and exchanged phone numbers. Other portable generators came and went but the aircraft remained dark and hulking. Jo started looking for a hotel for the night. We were freezing - it was cold inside the terminal. I went to Au Bon Pain to buy a glass of hot water to heat my hands. I met the captain there and asked if there was any hope. He said things were looking up. We suspected that he was bullshitting. More equipment was towed to and away from the aircraft. The maintenance crew worked on, stamping their boots in the snow, their breath white in the darkness. But they stayed with it and finally we boarded. And another four hours later we were on the ground in Austin. Thirty four hours after leaving for the airport in Hyderabad. No complaints. We stopped at the all night McD on the way home from the airport to get chicken nuggets for Vivian and Evan. And then we slept till noon the next day.

Alu and Michelle weren't so lucky. They had to make alternate arrangement from Washington, DC. A train in the wee hours to Kingston that broke down somewhere along the way.

Another trip done. Another day back at the white wooden house.

Hyderabad

We arrived in Hyderabad Sunday morning with five short days ahead of us. And a lot to get done. Alu and I needed to scatter my dad's ashes. Jo wanted crispy fried chicken from Nanking. Vivian wanted dinner at So, the rooftop restaurant. I wanted to meet old friends. Evan wanted to jump on Partha. Sharath, Alu and I wanted to make a small dent in Sharath's stock of fine scotch. Michelle wanted to do a spot of shopping. The kids, Jo and I wanted to visit Savitri and family. Jo and I wanted to go back to the Secunderabad Club gym for a workout. And the grown-ups wanted to ring in the New Year at the Club.

We got it all done except for the workout. The crispy chicken twice. The scotch thrice. And jumping on Partha many many times.

Ashes To Ashes

The morning after we arrived in Hyderabad eight of us boarded a slightly rickety twelve seater minibus for a 100 mile trip to the Narajuna Sagar dam to get to the Krishna river. Because there were no seat belts the kids' car seats stayed in their bag. Even in the light early morning traffic it took us almost an hour to get out of the ugly sprawl of Hyderabad. The ride was bumpy with frequent braking and swerving. Evan slept. Vivian gazed out of the windows at the rugged dry rocky outcrops and groves of palms and tiny dry cotton fields and every once in a while emerald green freshly planted paddy fields. We drove through small settlements with unmarked speed bumps and tractor and pump dealerships and road side coffee and tea shacks and trash. All along the 100 mile stretch there were huge sections of steel pipes being lowered into massive trenches - to bring water from Krishna to an ever thirsty Hyderabad. We passed dozens of workers walking along the highway swinging their glistening stainless steel tiffin lunch boxes making their way to the pipe fabrication facilities. And school children in uniforms in large groups heading to the government schools in the bigger villages. We eat Glunito "oreos" and Michelle's trail mix and snacks that Sahiti had packed for us and wondered how much longer.

When we arrived at the dam we took a lower road down to the river on the downstream side and parked next to a small temple with steps leading down to the water. Dhobis were washing clothes on one side and a brahmin was getting ready for a day's business on the other. Just as we had with my mother's ashes on the opposite bank of the river 11 years ago we had agreed to do this without any formal religious ceremony. Vivian and Evan ran down to the water before us. We took turns and scattered my dad's ashes into the river. I had a hard time letting go the last fistful of ashes into the fast flowing water. The last mortal remains. Long separated from the memory of the living breathing person my dad used to be.

We finished, washed our hands in the river and headed back up. When I caught up with Vivian she asked me if her card was in the ashes. She had made a card for my dad and we had placed it on his casket at the crematorium back in Austin in August. Along with my dad's boutonniere from our wedding nine years ago that he had lovingly left by my mother's photo at our home in Austin - dry but perfectly preserved for all those years. I nodded, her face swimming in my tears. She squeezed my hand and softly said "goodbye Grandpa" and ran up the steps to race Evan to the top.

Getting There

On the last Thursday in December we packed up for an eight day trip to India and left for the airport. We were to board a flight for DFW in about two hours. Then another to London and finally from there to Hyderabad. Alu and Michelle were doing the same thing a day later. The day after they arrived in Hyderabad we were all going to take my dad's ashes to the Krishna river. The box of ashes was in my duffle bag. This was a carefully orchestrated tight trip.

About thirty seconds into the drive Jo scanned my passport and announced that it had expired.

Instead of driving on to the airport I went up Lamar to the express passport agent we had used to renew Vivian's passport a couple of years ago. They gave me a phone number for the State Department's passport offices. I negotiated the automated phone system and got myself the first available appointment - for 11am the next morning in Dallas. Next stop airport.

A very helpful agent at the American desk changed our tickets from DFW to the next day - without charging us anything extra.

The next morning I walked to the passport office at the federal building in downtown Dallas at 10:45am. I was out by 11:15am. We took the kids to the aquarium where they had a blast. Back for my passport at 2:00pm. At 2:10pm I had a new passport in hand. The kids played in the park for an hour and then we drove to DFW and boarded the 6:35pm flight for London. And I finally exhaled.

I was surprised by three things. First, that you can get a passport renewed in three hours with no fuss. Second that the travel arrangements worked out just right enabling us to reach Hyderabad 24 hours later. And third that Jo didn't seem the slightest bit perturbed at any point.