LIfe of S ~ The Russian Roulette

Ok...so here's the thing. I got really bored of blogging down too much stuff about S (actually, I am pissed of that he hasn't come down to visit me and so I am cutting short his blog coverage). So now I am only gonna focus on some really interesting stuff. And nothing could get better than this. Our dear friend S had to go to Moscow for official work. But as it turned out, his experience was no less than playing the dangerous game of Russian Roulette.

I remember standing in the check-in line at the Dubai International Airport. I was to board a flight to Moscow, where I was being sent for some official work. Little did I know then, that the day ahead of me was going to be one, that would leave memories for a lifetime. A harrowing experience awaited me, one which I would not like to go through again in my life.

As I waited for the flight, I found a place to hook up my laptop and browse the net. I was so absorbed surfing, that I nearly missed the final boarding call for the flight to Moscow (infact, 2 of my friends actually missed a flight once, cause they were too busy facebooking!!!!). I rushed to the gate where I saw an Indian lady welcoming the passengers. She was surprised to know that I was going for work purposes to Moscow. Generally, people as young as me went to Russia to study, and I was an aberration (that word defines S completely). As I entered the flight, the excitement inside me was beyond expression. In my knowledge, the relationship between India and Russia was famous since the times of legendary Raj Kapoor, and so I was really looking forward to this trip. I slept for most of the flight, and when my eyes opened, we were landing at Moscow. The snow outside took me back in memory lane, to the wonderful time I spent in Canada, a few months back.

As I stepped off the plane, the excitement inside me kept growing. All I could think of was Vodka and Women (sounds like the title of of a Russian history text!!), Russia’s biggest "assets" (pun intended). However, as I moved to the passport control with all my documents, I felt the customs inspector giving me the weirdest of looks. In the little English he knew, he asked me to take off my cap (used to hide the receding hairline) and took a closer look at me. He then called another inspector, who was the most inhuman person that I was to see for some time. He took me to a seating area and was trying to be nice by asking me to take a seat and give him reasons for my stay. I was not alone in this exercise, as I found an aged Pakistani businessman and two African gals on adjacent seats. After the questions, he told me to wait.

As time passed by, we kept waiting for him. Finally he was back after 2 hrs. As I explained to him about the company I work for, and my purpose for this short visit, he kept asking me more questions. He then asked me for the contract I had signed with the company, something I never expected to be asked for, in my wildest dreams (and his dreams are pretty wild, believe me). I told him that it was in my check-in baggage, and that I had other documents most of which were in my laptop. If I could open my laptop, I could show him everything he wanted. However, he wanted it all in print. It amazed me that in this hi-tech world of computers, why would one ever carry unnecessary documents and waste paper (score one for Al Gore). He then checked my ticket and hotel bookings and confirmed the same with the hotel I was to stay in. As there was nothing wrong with that, he chose to conveniently ignore it and kept telling me that I should also forget about that. He then wanted the telephone number of the company and contacts of people I was to meet here. So I produced all the required details and told him that there should be a company executive waiting outside for me. But all such details were of least interest to him. I guess it suited him that it was a Sunday and that the offices in Moscow were closed.

He went away to contact the people whose information I had provided, and came back after an hour and a half. He had this sense of achievement on his face and I assumed that he had managed to contact the people and I would be allowed to leave soon. Only to my disappointment, I learned that there was no person he could contact. Also, he said that there was no one waiting for me outside the airport. Of course that was bound to happen. I would never expect someone to wait for me four hours after the flight has landed. I tried explaining this to him, but he couldn’t care less. I was really frustrated. I thought that may be he couldn’t understand me properly and asked if I could speak to his senior officer. That must have hurt his ego and could well be my biggest blunder of the day. As they say, “when time doesn’t go your way, nothing seems to go well”. It was all getting really messed up.

He then asked me to follow him. The wicked smile on his face sent jitters down my spine. He told me that they had a SPECIAL ROOM for me to wait in. The waiting period was indefinite and I would have to wait for the morning when he would contact my company personals. I requested him to let me try calling my company people back in India to see if they could do something or even if I could access the Internet to send emails about the chaos. He had a standard answer to all my requests and questions, “I’m sorry! I can't help you”. I told him that we never treat anyone like this if they come to India. To this statement he replied, “India doesn’t have problems like Russia” (umm...excuse me....have u been to India????). It just seemed as if he never wanted to help me. In any case, we reached the waiting room and he opened the door with a set of keys hanging around his neck. It seemed weird that a waiting room was kept locked. But I kept my questions to myself for a change (u see...nothing's impossible...even S can keep his mouth shut).

As I entered this room, I saw smoke all over, and through the smoke I saw about 20-25 people of different nationalities talking to each other. As I was entering, all their eyes were on me and I’m sure the thoughts passing through their heads was the same, “HERE COMES ANOTHER ONE”.

to be continued...