I write so I can breathe. I am constantly evolving, mindless at times, frustrating even perhaps but heck, I wouldn't change the smell of freedom that comes with writing.

Friday, July 27, 2012

Post from Mumbai Airport

Ah! Finally, the aroma of the hot coffee struck my nostrils awakening my sense to a day that looked terribly long at this point of time. There was a flight to catch, a destination to go to and move on from. It never really was about destinations for me. It was always about the journey. Perhaps, that is why, I have managed to stay in the now and not in what lies ahead. It makes me a maverick, a happy one at that. Yes, happy. One may debate happiness. As it has been debated over the decades and there is always a different answer to the source of it. Mostly, it is about what’s going on inside you really. I have managed to figure that much out. The state of my happiness really depends on me and nobody quite really influences that. Oh, they do try. What someone does to me could possibly affect my state of mind, or happiness. Really? No. What someone does is beyond my control. What I do with what someone does to me is what will define my happiness quotient.

Mumbai airport is noisy and laid back at the same time. I am headed to Delhi and the screen in front of me displays my flight is bound to Varanasi. I am not overtly worried about that. Either the flight is going to Varanasi and then to Delhi or going to Varanasi via Delhi. My presumption at this point is that the Delhi passengers are hopefully wise enough to not panic by what they read. Someone, of course, will panic and there will be moments of chaos which may or may not result in a mini pandemonium depending on which way the conversation, the explanation and the understanding goes. Communication can be such a tricky thing. Rather, it is the tricky thing.

The Calicut flight passengers need to board. There is an announcement through the public address system and a louder, overpowering voice booming without a mike ‘Any passengers for Calicut?’ – it makes me wonder if it is one of those bus-stops where the bus conductor steps down to scream the station so it may pick up passengers who want to go there but haven’t made up their mind yet about the bus they will ride, only this is the airport of one of the busiest cities in India, crazily romantic in the monsoons.

The weather is gorgeous. It is, yet again, my perception. I love the rains. Who can blame me? I love the shades of crazy wild child that emerges every time it rains. Each time I am at the airport, I wonder. Where are so many people going? What’s going on in their lives? Do we ever pause to think of that? The airport, with its multitude of passengers is carrying, on air, as many stories. Someone is returning to school, like my daughter, someone is heading to a new job, a funeral, a marriage, a vacation, arrival of a new baby, for healing, for doing something crazy, for quitting work, changing a life, walking away from a breakup or a divorce, a new life.

It is interesting to watch people. In my journey to whatever destination I choose to head to, the journey itself is full of these precious moments of observing. I have seen people sigh with relief that they have cleared the security check-in and now head for a coffee or a hot cup of well-deserved tea. The process of waking in the morning, packing, shutting down an apartment, hailing a taxi-cab and making it to the airport on time, checking in, going through exposing your laptop and camera for scrutiny, ensuring the security stamp is all done and then sitting to sip that coffee is well worth it.

The sun has peeked in from some part of the sky, the light blinding. There is a bunch of late thirty something men who sit in the waiting chairs opposite me. One particular man languishes on his seat like it is his office chair, or rather recliner at home. His butt is possibly resting right at the edge of the seat, legs parted in a lewd body language expression. It makes me want to kick him, you know where, just so he sits upright. Sure enough, he stares at my daughter and me. By the time his gaze follows from my kid to me, he straightens himself up. If looks could kill, I have managed to injure him with mine. There is a sense of satisfaction that courses through me. The Varanasi flight is still displayed, adding to the frown lines on a number of passengers who are now cross-checking their boarding passes to compare flight numbers. Some of them, I reckon, will add to the confusion when the boarding to Delhi/Varanasi is announced.

The Calicut flight is still boarding. Quietly now. It makes me wonder…

The Varanasi flight has been announced. Time to fly.

No comments:

Post a Comment