I foresaw my dream turning out to be an epic comedy.

With all the frenzy happening around me, a realization came to me a bit late. I had another person travelling with me to Sri Lanka. It had to be my camera man. I'd collected his accreditation from Mumbai, so I kind a got a clue how on he looks. He looked very professional and was a gem of a person the first time I met him. As I spoke to him I realized that, that his English was as bad my Hindi. It was like Brian Lara bowling to Glen Mcgrath. I kind of got a clue that there was going to be a perfect mismatch of sorts, with the communication. In the land of Sinhala, a producer who cant speak to Hindi to save his life and a cameraman who cant understand English to save his blushes. I foresaw my dream turning out to be an epic comedy. 

The last time I felt bad for not learning Hindi was when a girl came and told me that I looked handsome, I was unmoved, staring at her eyes, pretended to understand and said "I'm really sorry, I feel bad." I confessed to my cameraman that my Hindi is pathetic, and we have to sail these 2 months without any misunderstandings, as it was my dream. I tried to make conversations with him and after a few tries I succeeded. I was happy to have made my first proper conversation with him. I was kicked and explaining my enthusiasm towards cricket. And guess what he had to say ?  " I hate cricket, I don't watch much of it." and he continued to take stock of the camera material. I just looked up to the sky, the word "dream" quickly disapperaed in thin air, and "m" was replaced by "d". The flight had just taken off in pursuit of what seemed to be a long, tough, tricky, fun, hinglish dream.  

I felt like a warrior, taking my sword and slashing his throat with disdain.

February 8th was the date. First foreign trip. First Job. First world cup live. First moment of satisfaction. I had to go to Mumbai from Chennai and then Sri Lanka. As I was stepping out of my house, hugs from mom and  dad, having a kaleidoscope of meaning, sent me into an emotional tizzy. On reaching Mumbai with a heavy heart and a light mind, I dint have much time to waste as I had less than 10 hours to get to my office, collect my  laptop & camera. 

While I was racing against time, there was a small confusion with my ticket, as the agent mispronounced my name, which didn't match my freshly baked passport. After a few heated words, I rushed to the airport with my belongings. It looked like I dint have enough time to wear my shoes. Like a batsmen who fears getting timed out, I rushed into the airport with my camera, luggage and of course my shoes still dangling in my hand.

The tension just couldn't fade away. The formalities at the airport, seemed never ending creating doubts in my mind whether I would get there before the boarding shuts down. All I wanted at that moment was to get through to the waiting area without any hassles. I dint want the Mumbai airport to be a hindrance to my dream, as it has the history pooping a lot of parties. But every time I walk into the security check-in, I always have an inexplicable feeling. A negative one. I was beginning to get nervous, hoping no one stops me and all goes down smoothly. And I got reminded of Murphy's law.

I got stopped by a cop, he saw my camera and started to interrogate me. For a moment I forgot I was travelling to Sri Lanka to cover the World cup. But once I realized it, I reached out to my bag, pulled out a letter, and stuck it on the securities face. It was a letter signed by the ICC head and the tournament director of the world cup, stating that I was representing India to cover the world cup for the official website. I felt like a warrior, taking my sword and slashing his throat with disdain. My letter was my sword then. With my great knowledge of Hindi, I tried being cocky to the security, and I succeeded. With the flight just an hour away, I exulted and sat in the waiting room which stared straight at the flight I was going to take