It’s
that time of the year again when families unite. Those stacked delicacies make
those prying eyes crossing the sweets-shop fall in a diabetic coma and set
those tongues wagging. Nothing intrigues kids more than crackers and unwrapping
gifts that fill up the entire living room. All colleges run empty for everyone
is cajoling their professors into cancelling lectures. The hardcore
non-vegetarians go through meat-detox. Even the most hen-pecking wives pray for
their husbands’ longevity, thank the ludicrous practice of Karva Chauth. Proclivity
for neatness exponentially increases to welcome Goddess Luxmi in our cribs. Yes,
it’s that time again that deserves a much-needed break from pell-mell of the busy lives
we’ve lost our true selves in. A break for which I concocted a colorful story to convince my
manager to grant me leave, oh what utterly laughable excuses! Yes, I lie for love. Love
is my Achilles heel, and I’m sure that one fine day it'll absolve all the sins I
live in.
Flashback:
November 2
Sleep
plays games with me whenever I have to travel. It evades me, I then end up
checking my phone every twenty minutes and wonder why time never understands my
state. It would crawl when I want it to gallop like a stallion and would run
faster than an incontinent passenger stranded on a railway station looking for
a lavatory when all I want is for it to be smooth like Michael's moon-walk. I
gave up on counting sheep at 3AM and saw my flat-mate occupied packing his
stuff. They leave by train a little later than I do. I go up to say Hi and I
sniff some pleasure in his tone when he asked me about my flight's status. It
had been raining cats and dogs.
Missing a call from the cab driver an hour before he was supposed to report didn't quite throw me in a panic fit. His not answering my call six times when I am only thirty minutes from leaving the village for Rajeev Gandhi Airport did. I thanked my photographic memory for having remembered the contact details of this other cab-service I caught a glimpse of the other day! Made a call and had luck waving its wand in my favour. One cab was available in thirty minutes. I chose for it. What option did I have at 3:30AM anyway?
The cab arrived and I said goodbye to my flat-mate with an awkward hug saying stuff that people usually say when they know they will never meet again. Mercy! Being socially awkward is one bitter sting in my crown of thorns. Anyway, crooning Winehouse's 'You Know I'm No Good', I hurried to the elevator and hopped in the cab. It was still raining heavy and the highway to Uppal did not have any streetlights. Well that's Pocharam for you! I stayed on the edge of my seat that reeked of damp unfresh socks until Uppal, after which I found it safe to take my eyes off the road and plant them on my phone. And it rang! The other cab driver was now calling me and I really felt bad for that bloke. Usually I am the sole victim of my panic attacks and myopic indecisive disposition! This time a classic case of bad synchronization had taken its toll on him. I felt sorry. So taking off amidst torrential rainfall and dark clouds was the least of my worries. I felt like witnessing that Quidditch match sitting by my window seat where a Dementor plants a kiss on Harry as water trickled down my window making indecipherable patterns. The flight, to my relief, was on time.
The
delicious meal I was served also blew life in my listless self. The mint leaf
resting atop the fruit salad, the scrumptious omelette-foldover served with a
rich flavored curry and a corn-potato stuffed fried side-on, the lilliputian
bun that I adorned with butter and strawberry jam and a much-needed cup of tea.
The meal stole the few winks of sleep I was left with and the little difficulty my eyes had
in staying open was instantly eradicated. And I lay all awake and gay. It is
the 2nd of November, and I'm on my flight back to my hometown. The feeling was
sinking in. Buds of excitement were blossoming one more time.
We
descended 34,000 feet to Delhi cutting through the dense clouds that now
resembled a colossal cotton candy, and the reminisces of the mild association I’ve
had with the city flooded my mind. I hurried towards the gate from where my
flight to Chandigarh(IXC) had to depart. Now as I find myself 45 minutes away
from home, my flat-mates' state crosses my mind. A train from Secunderabad to
Delhi is not as rosy as they made it sound. An hour to the railway station, 23 by
train to Delhi and at least 6 to their respective hometowns.
At T3 while I waited at Gate 28B, in front of me was an old couple made up of a sad, sickly and nagging wife and his balding man wearing trousers so loose that it could perhaps clothe an entire fleet of Bollywood Item-song backup dancers altogether. The lady's expression was as cold and contemptuous as is Bellatrix Lestrange’s on a killing spree. She maintained it while she kept playing Temple Run on her Apple device. The minute the husband asked for his turn, her answer brimming with spite was ''Let me finish first.'' Then she disappeared, just like her husband's fleeting smile, towards the washroom and didn't return till I was there. And I realized that I have been kept away too long from experiencing the charm of being with someone you can probably crib and complain about forever! Ah, married couples, old or not, make such a sweet journey-free-time fillers.
Beside me was another couple in their prime. Their newborn was being taken care of. I was eschewing the ongoings because I know it could have led me to barfing. Why? Because nothing is pleasing about eating out of your kid's jar of 'something that looks disgusting' or baby-talking with him and making yourself look like morons in a lounge crowded with people so full of themselves. I almost thought, "I have had it. No more observations that can drive you crazy, Rishi." But at the final check-in, I see this preened and primped crew-member seated at her desk, a treat for the eyes. You know how we've all met a good-looking girl whose atrocious English makes you forget how good-looking she really is. The second she spoke 'Ladies with childrens come ahead in the queue', the Grammar Nazi inside stirred a storm bigger than Cyclone Nilam that was currently hovering over Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh.
And
I boarded the plane full of old Sari-clad air-hostesses welcoming me with
Namaste and tired smiles. On my short flight to Chandigarh, I had Ice Age 3 to
give me company. This is how I spent my least boring 45 minutes of the day.
When I landed, I had my father waiting for me. What I'd never forget is that
phone call he made around two weeks ago when he told me in the most
Karan-Johar-directed-way ever to "Jaldi Aaja Bas". It made me realize
the soft interior that resides underneath his stern look and that expletive-filled
tongue. And there we were meeting after four months that seemed more like eight
centuries and as I hugged him I felt this heaviness in my head. I knew what was
to come, we'd soon be here at the airport together again but only parting for
an undefined period of time. You know what they say about "good
things", they don't last forever. I returned from Pocharam as a blank page
that only family time could draw a smile on. Love indeed is my Achilles heel.
