The Lure Of Kathmandu

While we're all queueing up for Royal Nepal's cattle class at Indira Gandhi international airport, Dubby Bhagat stands isolated at its Shangrila class counter. `Can you get a porter?' he asks, pointing to his very large suitcase. Receiving no reply, he gestures dramatically towards his chest and adds, `Heart condition...' In no time, a porter has been procured, and the suitcase is lifted up to be weighed, tagged and sent down the conveyor.

The flight is late, so we end up as his guests at the airport restaurant meant only for those who fly business and first class. `So what's with the heart?' I ask. `It's the heart and stomach, actually,' he says delicately. `You mean you have gas?' says another guest somewhat less delicately. `Actually, I have something growing inside me,' says Dubby fastidiously, `like stalactites. Apparently, it's a common American ailment.'

 

In Kathmandu, Deepika Mehta hoots with laughter. `You mean he got you too?' she asks in exaggerated hyperbole. `He woke me up Saturday morning to tell me in great detail about the condition of his insides. It put me off my breakfast.' Then, sighing affectionately, she adds, `Dubby's such a hypochondriac.'

Like Dubby, Deepika's an