The Eagle has landed

The chief protagonist, Mrugank Mathur, had finally arrived. We shall address him with all due respect as Mammo, christened so, by his seniors at IIT 4 years ago. As time flew, the name stuck and so did the flesh which gained him the name. Mammo, however, begged to differ. He tried to hoodwink many, who asked him the funda of his name saying, it was because he was the "Man of the Moment".

Thoughts cluttered the head of mammo, as he rode the escalator of a sleek eastern, US port city, airport. One train of thought went - I am finally a foreigner. The sleaze train went - Look at that raapchand aunty in front, with low cut jeans and tank top - and then felt slightly guilty. But he quickly reconciled - what sin? I have set foot across the oceans, By the tenets of hinduism, I already have committed a grave one. His thoughts were suddenly obstructed by a smartly dressed lady customs officer, another maal, but with a menacing looking dog. Mammo meekly muttered - good afternoon. The lady, latino, then gave Mammo a naughty smile, rolled her eyes towards his pants, and asked - anything hot, young man? Even Mammo, a connoisseur of pondy movies, was taken back. Then he realized, she was enquiring about the indian food stuff, he was carrying in his two heavy suitcases. A quick denial, followed by a gracious take care, and Mammo was on his way again, looking around and feeling his way in his new environment. Aah! feeling around reminds me, just 4 hours ago, Mammo was feeling around the bathroom of BA539 enroute from London. When the 40ish stewardess came up to his seat and asked him, his choice of juice - Mammo, not a frequent flier, replied mango. The hostess got him tomato, and the wise-looking, american uncle next to Mammo, grinned. Mammo, man of the moment that he was, acted as if tomato was what he desired, and quickly lapped it up. Little did he know, that green chilly was one of its ingredients. A fire was raging in his shapely belly and the water he drank to quench it, made him want to pee badly. So he got up, went to the cupboard sized toilet, waited in line, entered it, closed it, and damn! it was pitch dark. Mammo had never been in an aeroplane toilet before. He was feeling around for the light switch, but could not find one and frantically started scouring the walls for anything that seemed like one. He felt something sticky felt in his hand - thanks shiva! it was only the soap bottle. It had taken a leak after he had knocked it down. The next victim was the hostess emergency call button. Still no sign of the darn switch. Minutes passed in darkness and the search grew intense. The flush was inadvertently operated and the baby tray, flung open. No light switch! By now the 40ish hostess dropped by and was knocking on the door, enquiring if everything was fine. Fellow passengers got up from the rear seats and were inquisitively looking towards the toilet as if it were a scene from turbulence - II, where a couple do it in the flight toilet. Mammo was loosing fluids alright, but only via perspiration. Briefly he believed, he could sweat away the excess water in his body. The flush, meanwhile, was on a roll, diligently operating and the door getting knocked rythmically. Mammo decided he would open the door and play the first time flier card. He placed the knob between his thumb and index finger and tried to pull the door, it would not open, the knob - like him was in a jam! Damn! As desi experience had taught him, he then pushed the door and the knob the other way a little. Voila! there was light! the knob was the switch and to think, poor mammo had only pee-ed in the open or behind doors with knobs, which were only mere, faithful knobs.

Finally, a performance in peace, and the flush worked purposefully for the first time in 7 minutes, and mammo came out, he was the cynosure of all the 441 eyes in the plane. Mammo really was the Man of the Moment.