Who flew to Cali every year
And always went back through Qatar
Because his parents worked for the government
Was a good omen
He was kind and informative
And slept for 12 of the 14 hours
From Dallas to Doha
I had to wake him up
He missed breakfast
But he would see family soon
In DOH it was clean and new
I got to wait in the business lounge
Much nicer than the one in DFW
And much lonelier
But I was on my way soon
To see my Indian friends
The ones I had spoken to
Every other week
For several months
Only they didn't know I was scared
I was coming alone
And I had picked the wrong hotel
And I hoped Babu would be at the airport
Cause I wouldn't know how to say
Take me to the Ramada
It is on an island
In the backwater
Close to the ocean
At least I think it is
My new friends think I'm the boss
That I know what I am doing
And they are afraid I am as American as I look
So they play it safe
Take me to the normal restaurants
Avoid the real food
The stuff they eat every day
Until the third day
But they still hedge their bets
Anoop is hesitant
Even as we are paying
He shows me how to get the big metal tray
Fill it with rice
Scoop on the different curries
Get a cup for the curd
Get a cup for the sauce
Grab a salt cured chili
And two Dixie cups of dessert
Head to the table
And dig in with our hands
He brings utensils the first day
And the second
Before he doesn't bother
Before he sees I love it
Almost as much as he does
We finish all smiles
And Anoop bobbles his head
In encouragement
In the Karala way
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