It’s like am central character of a fast paced movie going in my mind, when I have to wake up in the morning with 2 to 3 hours of sleep. It’s like a story written by Dan Brown and it seems that ages has passed in few movements since first indication me being waking up, till I fully wake up. The thing is, I need to catch a flight to Rajamundri from where I will be heading to Kakinada.
Somehow I managed to get me ready till 5 am, got an official pick-up, reached the boundary of mumbai (AirportJ). The sequence of events happened on Mumbai airport should be called “the three queue of disaster”. First there was a queue 20 people long to enter the airport, then a queue more than 50 people long in front of few counters of kingfisher. There they told those who are going to Haydrabad, to break the queue and step ahead to prevent losing a flight, but I was convinced that I am going to Kakinada and I was wrong because It was a fucking connecting flight through Hydrabad. Somehow did my check-in and got airborne.
Hydrabad was cool as my waiting time was 2 hours and my only regret is the purchase of a dose just 25 min before my flight. The cook was enjoying whole cooking procedure unaware of all bad omens I requested for that idiot who don’t know hindi and English while working on an airport (how awesome). Landed Rajamundri, picked up by a bus, but I expected a cab and reached Kakinada office rather than the guest house. So this is how I encountered the doors of Kakinada.
Kikinada is like the Sunagakure (village hidden among sand) where Gara of Naruto series live. I feel like I am floating in lukewarm honey and to survive in this place you have to stay in the artificial air bobbles created by Halliburton (Halliburton staff house with shitty AC’s). Ask me about water quality and I will say that it’s like garam daal ka pani with no salt. The worst problem is that the language they speak will not be understood and they don’t give a fuck to hindi and they don’t what to understand. I might be blaming them but there is a strong reason behind that……..”To just communicate we don’t need language or particular words to every objects, gesture and signs can do miracles but to understand that you should the love the person”……..what I conclude is that they don’t love outsiders ( but they like white foreigner- the typical Indian paradox). Cool! I can live with that……..
So what is the title mean, I have something indicating through my title and that’s a little philosophical. I believe that every place anywhere is like a home and language, weather, behaviour of localides, air, water etc. they all are like doors to that home, and if opened to you can make you comfortable at home but make you nostalgic when closed.So, this is how I found the doors of Kikinada.
Somehow I managed to get me ready till 5 am, got an official pick-up, reached the boundary of mumbai (AirportJ). The sequence of events happened on Mumbai airport should be called “the three queue of disaster”. First there was a queue 20 people long to enter the airport, then a queue more than 50 people long in front of few counters of kingfisher. There they told those who are going to Haydrabad, to break the queue and step ahead to prevent losing a flight, but I was convinced that I am going to Kakinada and I was wrong because It was a fucking connecting flight through Hydrabad. Somehow did my check-in and got airborne.
Hydrabad was cool as my waiting time was 2 hours and my only regret is the purchase of a dose just 25 min before my flight. The cook was enjoying whole cooking procedure unaware of all bad omens I requested for that idiot who don’t know hindi and English while working on an airport (how awesome). Landed Rajamundri, picked up by a bus, but I expected a cab and reached Kakinada office rather than the guest house. So this is how I encountered the doors of Kakinada.
Kikinada is like the Sunagakure (village hidden among sand) where Gara of Naruto series live. I feel like I am floating in lukewarm honey and to survive in this place you have to stay in the artificial air bobbles created by Halliburton (Halliburton staff house with shitty AC’s). Ask me about water quality and I will say that it’s like garam daal ka pani with no salt. The worst problem is that the language they speak will not be understood and they don’t give a fuck to hindi and they don’t what to understand. I might be blaming them but there is a strong reason behind that……..”To just communicate we don’t need language or particular words to every objects, gesture and signs can do miracles but to understand that you should the love the person”……..what I conclude is that they don’t love outsiders ( but they like white foreigner- the typical Indian paradox). Cool! I can live with that……..
So what is the title mean, I have something indicating through my title and that’s a little philosophical. I believe that every place anywhere is like a home and language, weather, behaviour of localides, air, water etc. they all are like doors to that home, and if opened to you can make you comfortable at home but make you nostalgic when closed.So, this is how I found the doors of Kikinada.
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