Alice in Wonderland

Well, sometimes it is difficult to know where to begin, but let me try. I have a lot of things going on in my mind, but as usual, it is difficult to decide what to write on. Here goes something. I hope by the end of it, it looks good enough to publish on the blog.

I am in Doha, Qatar right now. Staying at The Ramada. A particularly confused client needs my assistance. I hope that by the end of this project, I don’t end up requiring someone’s assistance!

It is funny that this hotel never changes. It is a five star, deluxe category hotel – from which angle I don’t know. But as you read below, you will see that there are many angles to it really.

Let me begin with the mirrors (Hold still, my heart..)

They are all triangular. One of them, just in front of my bed, is pointing downwards, with a serious intent to pierce the table into two. Another one, an isosceles triangle, is challenging me to find which two sides are equal. I think I will get up at 2 am with the answer.

And then there is a scalene triangle next to the door. I almost bolted out of the window - I got up after a small nap, turned around to see a strange figure clad in white clothes, with a balding head staring right into my eyes from within that scalene triangle. Only after the initial shock had subsided, and possibly the people next room decided to move to another, safer neighborhood, did I realize that I can look scary even in my night suit.

So at the last count at I have 3 mirrors in my room. More discoveries can happen as I wonder about. I don’t know what purpose they serve, but I can tell you this one thing for sure - whoever designed this room must have had psychotic parents and (not 'or') a very demented childhood. Or like me, must have had psychotic math teachers (One name tops the list, but let bygones be bygones). I must mention that one of the mirrors must have been donated by Family Planning Mission of India. It is a huge triangle, much like the red family planning sign I grew up asking questions about to my Mom. Publicly, let me add.

Let us come to the bathroom (Now is the time when you hold your breath, and brace for impact)
First thinsg first, they need to keep a ‘Manual’ in each bathroom. This should be made mandatory by law. For the love of God, someone tell me how to do what in here and not get soaked while doing / not doing it?? This one time I want communism to rule. I want a manual in here!

The manual should explain what knob does what,. It should be cross-indexed with a glossary of terms to explain everything. It should have a contents page with a small summary of events that might happen to unsuspecting souls like me if a specific button is pressed or not pressed. At the end of it, it should have a helpline number and a website address where you have FAQ section. If this is too much, at least the hotel guys should have a video (much like airlines' which is so badly made and so boring that it makes you strangle the passenger next to you). If nothing else, they should start giving a crash course titled ‘Managing Bathroom Fittings with Ease’ as soon as you check in. Better still, write a book titled ‘Using Bathroom fittings for Dummies’, (or how about this one?) ‘Bathroom Fittings and Me: A life in retrospect’. It will be an instant best seller, I tell you.

I entered the bathroom and was instantly transported to the front deck of Starship Enterprise. Forget doing anything, I stood there like Alice in wonderland, dumfounded by the sheer nickel around me. It shone and shone, and bedazzled the lights out of me. The only difference between Starship Enterprise and this metal museum was that in the Starship, captain Kirk smiles and nods his head, and feels good about alien life forms and about saving the earth. Here I was marshalling all my energy to hold nature’s call with every fiber of my body, going through the maze of equipment to understand what does what.
(I rotated a few knobs here and there, pressed some buttons quite frantically and ended up getting soaked from a shower burst that came from no where and hit me in the back. Coward.)

From next time onwards, I am going to carry my own bucket and mug into such hotels.

Did I tell you about the lighting? (take a deep breath...)
Well, the room has about 3 gazillion lamps (give or take a few). The way they are placed remind me of Chinese torture chamber. This one, right above my desk is shining so brightly on the key board that I wish the keys had brail characters – I can’t see anything. I am sure this hotel is facing a constant surge of extreme voltage. I think I need to invite some astronomers and scientists in here – they'll know how centre of Sun feels like.
The upside of this all is that by tomorrow, I will be glowing so much that the client will need to switch of their lights when I enter their offices. I will dedicate this project to the all glorious Ramada.

On that happy note, let me sign off here. There is still a part of me that wants to talk about the art-deco wall with a pot embedded in it (like it came from outer space and got stuck here), but that will take me another three hours to write under present weather and light conditions (Please note that it is not that I have not discovered the switches to turn of these lights; I tried doing that and ended up turning the room into a discotheque). Then there is the case of the lost butler, who entered my room while I was sleeping, woke me up, saw my face and went out in silent anger, quite upset that I was not his master. I also don't want to write about how I searched for a plug in here and could not find one, and how I have a long wire extension that helps my laptop with its power. The technician told me 21 times that they don't give extensions to people, lest they start using water heaters, ovens, and microwaves in the room

(what is going on in here????)

Weird connections- It is a weird world.

Tailpiece: While I was searching for some topic to write on, I was reminded of two beautiful Shers by Ghalib, wherein he mentions his lust for writing (in his case, letters to his beloved)

Khat likhenge garche matalab kuchh na ho,

ham to aashiq hain tumhaare naam ke.
(I will keep on writing letters to you, whether they make any sense or not.
I am hopelessly in love with (writing) your name)

The second one is actually one of my favorites. It tells how hopelessly one is in love and is quite hilarious.

Magar likhvaaye koi usko Khat to hamase likhvaaye,

hui subah aur ghar se kaan par rakh kar qalam nikale.

(Anyone interested in writing a letter to her, please come to me.
I step out every morning with a pen tucked next to my ear just for that purpose)

Ghalib has also written about his dwelling place, and since we were on my room’s case, here is something he wrote while he must have been on his room’s case…

Ug rahaa hai dar-o-deewaar pe sabzaa "Ghalib",

ham biyaabaan mein hain aur ghar mein bahaar aaii hai.

(Moss is growing on the walls all around me.

I am alone and Spring season is coming right into my home)


Finally, a Sher by Iqbal extolling the virtues of silence (I should note this one for self-improvement)

Keh rahaa hai dariyaa se samandar kaa sukuut

jis kaa jitanaa zarf hai utanaa vo Khaamosh hai
[sakuut = silence; zarf = capability/capacity]

(Ocean’s silence is telling something to the river; one is as silent as one’s capability)