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March 22nd, 2005


13 th March 2005


I board flight 4672 bound from Frankfurt to Schipol. There is a confused Indian in the business class section. He is looking around here and there. I want to talk to him because he seems like an interesting person to talk to. But I don’t have a seat in here. Can’t be illegal on business class, can I?


I take my seat in the aircraft. Next to me is an IT worker from Chennai. He has a bright orange tilak on his forehead. I ask him if this is his first trip abroad. “Yes,” he nods and tells me how he was checked thoroughly for thirty full minutes at Frankfurt airport because he had a post-dated invitation letter and everything went wrong for him in terms of his sponsor’s phone number suddenly not existing and his mail box overfull with mails. Somehow, our IT worker passed this test as well. Gawd’s grace I say!




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