I dedicate this diary to the soul of  my beloved friend and mentor Mr. Ayloor Narayan and his family. Bless you

My only trip to India was a two days business mission sometime in 1997 or 1998. Together with my Scottish colleague, we landed in Chennai (Midras) international airport.

The moment I stepped out of the airplane, I realised I'm dealing with a great nation. I was overwhelmed with the site of crowded humen line of obviously very poor, majestically transporting buckets full of concrete on their heads from a small batching plant to a small building under construction. There were many females among those hardworking people. I felt so sad for them, yet immensely proud of them. A country with such a workforce could move mountains, if they so desired.

My father used to live in India as a business man. I remembered him once silencing a fool who was making fun of the Indian government. "If the Indian government provides only 1 bread a day to each Indian, that's more than a billion bread a day. That's not a joke" said my father with a very serious tone, may Allah bless his soul.

Although I was warned about the corruption among the officials in the airport, I didn't encounter any. I still remember though, the smiling face of an elderly custom duty officer hidden behind his two 'Namaste' hands.

During the drive from the airport to the office, I couldn't help noticing how pale the city looked. I couldn't see any greenery. But I did notice people on the road sides showing respect to so many small temples, rather idols, spreaded all over the city.

In response to my question, the driver showed me the VIP part of the the city and their biggest shopping center or the mall. My ignorance couldn't stop me from being so shocked. Both the VIP area and the mall were pale and the later was nothing but a small building. "Where are those beautiful gardens, forests, rivers and flowers I usually see in my favorite Indian movies?" I whispered to myself. Chennai wasn't the India I had imagined. Obviously, I was culturally shocked.

Ayloor Narayan, once described his shock following a visit to a poorly managed power station by saying "only God could miraculously run such a station. God must exist". Similarly, I say anyone who experiences the Indian traffic will believe in God. The traffic and driving were scary. I could never drive there. Having said that, I was impressed with their traffic lights that counted down the time the signal remained green, a smart and safe feature that we still don't have in Dubai.

We started the planned afternoon meeting in well equipped, yet humble offices, when I suddenly heard drumming sounds in the street. I was shocked when I learned that mourners drummed while escorting their dead to the grave yard, or better the burning yard. Hindus burn bodies of their dead.

I can not forget the shock and the concern on my host's face when I innocently asked if I could watch this ceremony. My host approved it reluctantly and cautioned me not to provoke the mourners. In a quick glance, I noticed a body placed on a humble cart pulled by some animal, while only few of the followers played on the drums. To this date, I don't know how I could have possibly provoked those mourners? Was my host worried that I could dance to the tone of the death drums? Or was it because I was a foreigner and a Muslim? Or probably he was worried that I repeat a provocative thing that one of his previous guests might have said or done?

In fact, foreigners to any land could unconsciously be very provocative and insulting. Like when I was visiting a Buddhist temple in Kyoto, Japan. This particular temple had 1000 Buddha idols in a single hall. In response to a question, the tour guide explained that monks would gather once a year to gently brush dust off the sacred idols. At that point a tourist among the crowd turned to her husband and said "Now I know why you don't clean your car, it must be sacred". I admit that the joke was really funny but it was definitely provocative and insulting to the Buddhists among us. The Buddhist tour guide wisely ignored them and proceeded with the tour.

At the door step of our dinner restaurant, we were each greeted with a flower chain put around our necks. That chain was originally placed around a huge idol positioned at the entrance of the restaurant. Although this tradition collided with my monotheistic Islamic faith , I decided to be a good guest and get along with my host's culture.

Indian cuisine is one of the best internationally, if not the best. I loved the food until I woke up 3 am in the Sheraton hotel. I felt discomfort in my stomach, which gradually developed into a lose-motion followed by high temperature and vomiting. The receptionist arranged a doctor who checked and then asked "Is this your first visit to India?". I responded "this is my first night in India". The doctor smiled and said "welcome to India. Don't worry, your immuned now. Next visit you will be just fine. For the time being, only drink bottled water and eat from the hotel".

I stayed all day in bed, while my healthy Scottish colleague was completing our planned assignment. My condition worsened when I learned that there were two Sheraton hotels in Chennai and we weren't staying in the best of the two.

So India, until we meet again, stay beautiful as usual.