Al Ngullie
Come to think of it, I have been fortunate enough to have visited countries like Bangkok, Switzerland, the United States and my favorites, Sweden and Thailand. I visit these countries every night on cable TV that is.
Anyway, let’s leave aside for now the country-visiting part or we’ll lose ourselves in the middle of the Atlas. While the fact cannot be denied that traveling is good food for the mind, transport systems always give me head-flowering headaches which are eloquently expressed by way of puking violently. Now, now that’s something to bang your head against. Journalism is one profession where lucky journalists can enjoy paid trips to anywhere your Boss deems you fit to be sent for a particularly hot story. Well, in that case I have been such a lucky dude too.
Last month, a national telecom services operator communicated to my management a particularly hot press conference to be held in Guwahati and asked The Morung Express to participate – all expenses paid. Now that’s one price to pay for being a journalist, but happily! Well, in all stupor, I got the info only after my Editor let me on to it and asked me to go. I picnicked like a hyperactive African Gorilla on brown sugar. Not that it mattered but that the trip was to be the next day itself. After frantically, going over the details of the journey to be taken, the big day arrived. Discovering that traveling alone would age me even before time, I got a friend to come along just so boredom won’t happen to have me salivating like a Koala. Packing a couple of warm wearables and a colossal jacket just in case Guwahati turns out to be an Assamese version of the Himalayas, we set off from home. The evening we were to leave turned out to be an Autorickshawless evening. When we finally caught one, we were late by about 15 minutes. We scuttled through the chaotic, stinking, screaming scratching mass of humanity at Dimapur Railway station. The train was already sounding off its hooter. We scrambled on it and found our berths. Phew! A minute later and Guwahati press conference would have been bye-bye.
We reached Guwahati at around 2:00 am in the morning. We went straight to the hotel which the company had earlier informed had been booked for us. The size of the Hotel itself forced my eyes of their sockets. It was a five star hotel. Well, the interiors had my eyes falling and bouncing all over the floor. I was told that this was the Hotel where all National and international cricket teams, including India’s, lodged in on occasions of test or one-day matches. I hoped fervently that I’d bump into Sachin Tendulkar or Dravid! And no wonder, my sockets felt a bit sore from all the ogling, leave alone my jaws which seemed in immediate danger of falling off permanently. We were shown to our room on the third floor by the attendant. The room looked out straight into the city. Then, the double sized bed was as big as a football field. Aside from the sport part, nothing compared to the luxury of sinking down on it. Ahhh! This is life, football or no football. We rang up the reception and ordered some snacks and late coffee. We dozed off feeling like billionaires. In the morning we treated ourselves to the menu which was so full of strange names for food. I thought one of the dishes’ name on the menu looked like my mother’s name until I found out later it was grilled shrimp in cheese.
In the morning we ordered a gastric-killing lot of dishes each as exotic as their names. However, we hoped that we wouldn’t pick any dish that might be roasted octopus. We missed Axone and Sukhaa Maas of home though. Anyway after a dozen or so of various dishes and a nasty minute of bleaching and burping, we explored around. This was good life! Internet zone, Hair & Beauty salon, Spa, massage and Sauna- everything except an army school inside the hotel. We ate like Naga cows ordering so and so every half an hour or so. Let’s not count the coffee bouts (we thought the attendants looked thinner then they did when we first arrived; must be because of constant running up and down with food orders thanks to two forever-hungry Nagas).
Come late evening, and the conference commenced. There were more than 50 or so media persons, both from the electronic and print Media, national and local at the press conference. The company’s people treated me like I were the President of the USA for the reason that I was the only one from Nagaland. Hey, I’m not complaining. After the press conference we headed up to the terrace where we were treated to a cocktail party and dinner, all replete with the finest of hotel’s cuisine and yes, a band playing through the night. We ate and ate and finally after feeling astonishingly full, we ate again. My companion particularly attacked the horse de oeuvres while my stomach found beauty in the grilled mutton lettuce gravy. Then to the cocktail bar: It had everything to blast your guts out to glory: Whisky, Vodka, Scotch, Brandy, Beer et al and of course cold drinks and fruit juices for yellow-bellied guzzlers like me. I went for a Coca Coal while my companion attacked the beer with all his strength. After a beer one too many, he started to speak in unknown tongues and other exotic languages as well as some confident lectures on philosophy and politics as well, so I thought it was time to take leave.
He went straight to the room while I did my hair at Habib’s which was there too. Then the internet followed. After I left for the room and yes, ordered another bout of foreign dishes and then Coffee and yes, you are right, dessert. I think that was the 12th dessert. So much enjoyment! And so much lines and bags under the Hotel attendants eyes for the simple reason that with this two Naga guys around, he’ll always keep on running up and down the Hotel with this or that order for this or that food at such and such time.
My companion and I couldn’t help feeling sad that we’d be leaving the next day. But you should have heard the roaring sound when we walked out the door of the hotel the next morning. It sounded like a giant sigh of relief from the hoteliers.
