Amrikan Dream!

I hate getting frisked, but what if the frisker is a blond fille? Though bashfully but I will excuse you frisking me this time. I can understand this country has its rules and I need to abide by them. I grinned & eagerly got ready to get “stripped” oops! I mean “frisked”.Fair hair, a light complexion and typical blue eyes. Boy! She was slinky. In this very short while we introduced each other, she took my cell number, said she was impressed, we became friends, friendship twirled into love, we sung some duets & danced on bollywood tunes, we proposed each other, we married, we had few brown & few white kids, and then like any other unsuccessful western couple we divorced!—Can I see your passport? She requested- She is a lady guard. In a jiff my romantic bubble bursted into pieces in front of my eyes. I showed her my passport and signed the immigration check form as if I was signing the divorce papers, I was a buffet of emotions!


Anyway, after this will-o'-the-wisp fantasy I came out of los angeles airport. I love this country, I always love coming here, though this is for the first time I have come here-I chuckled. With this witty thought I boarded a cab and the radio was playing "Welcome to the hotel California” Seeing my alien expressions in the rear mirror sardarji-cabbie quickly tuned on to bollywood music. Tall buildings, bare legged chicks, expensive cars, fashion in a-la-mode style this city has everything.
Like any goosey anxious asian I enquired:
Sardarji, is there a beach somewhere near here?
Take off your clothes and walk nude this is Amrika! he replied in a typical Punjabi accent. I looked at my watch it was exactly 12 o’clock and I grokked that he won’t understand a damn thing at this moment.


After taking a nap for few hours in my luxurious hotel suit. I woke up late in the evening with an empty stomach. So instead of ordering something from the hotel, I decided to go out and have a dinner whilst take a walk around this beautiful city. Idea wasn’t bad but where to go was a million dollar question.


I went to the reception and enquired about some well known sub-continental restaurants around the city. The lady sitting on the counter was very benevolent. She didn’t bother to go out of her way to print a list of restaurants & a city map for me.
She is a sweet heart! Her name is Catherine & she is still gazing at me!
Nope! Nope! no more pipe dreams. I fled from the spot thinking sometimes I am too desired! – but I have to live with it.


After roaming the lanes I found an Asian restaurant with a very strange name “Paapi Chuulo foods” --“here you get breakfast at anytime”— That’s goofy!. I didn’t want to go into its philosophy. I was hungry and immediately ordered some meals to kill my hunger. I had few butter nans with a delicious Dahi Gosht (lamb in yoghurt sauce), chicken kebabs & barbequed fish plus kiwi raita.I swear it was a real yum!


Now I desperately needed some sleep so I decided to take a cab and rush straight back to the hotel. Suddenly out of blue a sweet voice called my name; Owwais.. Owwaais.. Owwwaaais.. It was getting musical like a mellow sound bringing a feel of imminent melody. My name was falling out from her red lips like dry autumn leaves, my name has ever been so beautiful. Passing winds were playing violins, the scene watching birds were chirping a romantic poem, the nightingale on that conifer branch also joined the chorus with a lovely chirk. The empty road turned into a musical theatre & denizens became our audience, the song was in full swing. Ah! The romantic atmosphere of this place. Far away somewhere some one was playing chimes, it was getting louder. My alarm clock chimed 6 o’clock & I woke up!


This is why i hate dreaming i said while sighing in exasperation. The musical lady still remains a mystery... Catherine was better!