travel-anecdote on S Anand

Watching videos with a plastic cover

Fri, 05 Jun 2026 12:00:11 +0800

On the Indigo 1026 from Singapore to Chennai, I saw a passenger two seats in front of me watch videos in an interesting way.

She had wrapped her phone in a plastic cover, wedged it behind the tray table so that it would appear at a comfortable viewing position, and watched an Asian movie (presumably with bluetooth headphones).

At first, I wondered if she travels with a plastic wrapper for this purpose. Then I realized it was from the Indigo safety instructions kit.

Now, that’s either a very experienced flyer (who knows about the wrapper) or a very innovative person (likely both).

I was curious, so I asked her:

Have you done this before? ANS: Yes, many times.
Did you know that Indigo carries these wrappers you could use? ANS: No but flights usually carry a Ziploc bag.
Is it easy to control through the wrapper? ANS: I don’t touch it much while watching. (I was able to control it but fingerprint unlock didn’t work)

It’s fascinating to discover such innovations in the wild!

I am a vegetarian

Tue, 09 Jan 2007 12:00:00 +0000

I am a vegetarian. More out of habit than religion. (I’m not very religious.) What that means, in practice, is that I don’t eat non-vegetarian food knowingly.

But it has happened unknowningly. Many times.

Until I was 22, I had not been out of India on my own, and things were fine. In 1998, I went to Charlotte, NC, for training. (On a KLM flight that placed me illegally in Germany, but that’s another story.) I was pretty groggy after an 8-hour night flight. So when I was woken up by the sound of breakfast, I bit into the big yellow thing on the tray in front. Sleepy as I was, I did feel a little suspicious. Didn’t quite taste sweet, like I was expecting it to. I saved it for the last, when Ram, my manager, walked past.

“Are you eating that?” (pointing to the nibbled food in front)

“Yeah… why?”

“It’s chicken.”

My nibble was small, and I was still hungry, but there was no way I could eat the rest of it. Unfortunately, that turned out to be my last meal for 24 hours. (But, like I said, that’s another story.)

At Charlotte, food wasn’t so much of a problem. A bean burrito for dinner from Taco Bell worked just fine. But we drove to Washington DC one weekend, and that’s when big trouble struck.

You see, a bean burrito contains beans. That’s why it’s called a bean burrito.

Presumably, therefore, a hamburger would contain ham. Why else would it be called a hamburger? I can’t eat that. Ham is meat.

But a cheeseburger is safe to eat, since it only contains cheese. So Ram, Gayathri and I (the vegetarians) ordered a cheeseburger each, while Kallol and Dev (the non-vegetarians) ordered some chicken.

As usual, I was the hungriest, and took a big bite.

It didn’t feel right. Neither the taste, nor the look of the big red blob that I had taken a massive bite of.

(mouth full) “Kallol, what’s this?”

(after a careful examination) “I think it’s beef.”

Aaargh! Meat is bad, but beef is a sin. My mouth was still full of it. Panic sets in. Spit it all out. Need to wash mouth. Where do I go? Does this country use tissue for that as well? Run into men’s room…

After a while, Ram (who HADN’T taken a bite) calmed me down. And I was wiser.

The person at the counter must have made a mistake. It was quite noisy at the Smithsonian Museum restaurants. She must have heard us say the “burger” part, and not the “cheese” part. Quite understandable.

So a few days later, under much quieter circumstances, we ordered two cheeseburgers (“with extra cheese, please”) each. For the night…

Two years later, at London Business School, Accenture’s pre-placement talk was scheduled just after lunch, and they were sponsoring lunch. Naturally, I was there. Wise as I was, I carefully picked the vegetarian sandwiches – after verifying with two people independently (and re-verifying after one of them had taken a bite of it.)

The good part about being a vegetarian is that desserts are OK. Meat doesn’t go into desserts. Or biscuits. Or snacks. Or so I thought.

The assortment of biscuits was good, and I helped myself to a few. One of them was a bit salty, and rather good. So I went over for a second helping. I couldn’t reach it from where I stood, given the small crowd that was busily discussing work at Accenture just near the table. So I politely walked over to the other side, from where the biscuit was closer anyway…

… and read the label.

“Prawn something”.

Shit. Panic. Nausea.

This time I had actually eaten it. There was no mistaking the nausea in my stomach. I gulped three glasses of water before I calmed down a bit. Convinced myself that it’s OK because it tasted quite fine until I figured it was non-vegetarian. And ended up skipping the rest of lunch and the Accenture PPT anyway. (Too queasy in the stomach.)

Things haven’t changed much since 2000. I’ve managed to avoid non-vegetarian since. And learned that Pepperoni is not a form of pepper, nor is bolognese a variant of lasagna. But on the few occassions people try to point out to the beef fat content in Mentos or fish liver oil in a sauce, my only response is:

Don’t tell me. I’m OK with non-vegetarian if I don’t know about it.

P.S: I’m OK with eggs, though.

Comments

Bimal 9 Jan 2007 12:00 pm: You have very well described your experience, mate. I do appreciate the Music Mission you have organised.

Thanks very much.

Regards,

Bimal

You only eat plants

Sat, 02 Dec 2006 12:00:00 +0000

UTSUNOMIYA, Japan, Dec 1998. I was on a project with Honda R&D at Utsunomiya, Japan.

And I’m vegetarian.

The next day, Yoshioka-san – our counterpart at Honda – took us to the canteen and introduced me to the chef. Knowing that “vegetarian” in Japan includes eating fish and birds, I took the chef aside.

“I’m vegetarian,” I emphasised.

“Hai. Vegetarian.”

“I don’t eat fish.”

“Ah, so. No fish.”

“I don’t eat chicken. No birds.”

“Ah, so. No chicken.”

Pause. He looked puzzled. Just to be sure, I added, “I’m vegetarian.”

He thought for a long while, and then said,

“So, you eat only plants?”

P.S. I was finally served rice with brocolli. I ate it with pepper.

Comments

Theanand 4 Dec 2006 5:46 pm: interesting, myself anand from cochin, india, doin my grads here. saw ur site while searching for anand. . . .keep rocking, all the best
Anand Subramanian 4 Dec 2006 5:46 pm: nice site. . .
Pradeep 2 Dec 2006 12:00 pm: Ha :)

I had a similar experience in China and was offered lettuce leaves in vinegar.. I then remembered scolding my mom 2 months back on how the vathha kuzhambu was not up to the mark.
dhinakar 2 Dec 2006 12:00 pm: Niyalin Arumai Veyilil Teriyum…

British humour

Mon, 04 Jul 2005 12:00:00 +0000

If it weren’t happening to me, I’d appreciate the British sense of humour.

I was at the King’s Cross station, buying tickets for the next week at a counter.

“Hi, um… I already have a zone 1-5 pass…”

“Con-gra-tu-LAY-tions!”

Comments

Anonymous 11 Jan 2007 1:13 pm: dont follow the humour

Indian visa

Tue, 14 Jun 2005 12:00:00 +0000

For a long time, I thought the problems associated with getting an American visas was mainly for Indians. Today, I met someone at a Lebanese restaurant near Marble Arch. (It’s called Maroush III. There are at least a couple of other Maroushs in the area.) He’s a consultant, and has been travelling around the globe for over 20 years.

He recently flew from Boston to Bangalore. Without a visa. Why? Because he would be issued a visa at the port of entry, of course. Stands in the queue. Hands his passport to the officer. The officer leafs through the pages. Halts. Studies each page very carefully. Gets puzzled.

“Where is the visa?”

“I don’t have one. So please issue me on.”

At this, the official is startled. “Come this way, please.” And they go into a room in some corner. Left alone for a while. Two officials come back with lots of forms.

While patiently filling the forms, one of the officials says, “You’ll have to go back, you know?”

There must have been a faint smile as he said it. “No, you’re just kidding me!”

“No, no. You must go back on this flight to London.”

Disbelief. “Ha, ha! Quite funny. You’re just pulling my leg. Now, just give me a visa.”

“No, really. You must return by this flight immediately.

Having travelled for 16 hours from Boston, he heads back to London spending another 8 hours on the flight.

He is, incidentally, the only person I know (Indian or otherwise) who would have to tick “Yes” to the question “Have you ever been refused entry at the port of disembarkation?”

P.S. He DID get an Indian visa later. It was a painless process – apply in the morning, collect in the evening.