India Shining while Passengers Whining

Air India, quite obviously, is one of the many entry points to our great country. An inability of sorts, a debilitating sense of powerlessness, and heartbreaking scenery engulfs you when you embark this aviation misadventure. Haha, O well, long-winded narration isn’t going to prove anything. Point being, if one were that curious to travel and experience the Indian hospitality, one has to “Let Go” when one flies our very best, Air India.

So, first, there are the passengers. I had a family of three placed in the middle row right behind me. Like a poultry farmer, trying to fit one more chicken in the cage, the family head was trying to fit his two extremely oversized suitcases in the overhead bins. The air host requested the individual to take it out and place it on the ground storage compartment somewhere in the plane. But HA! ~, who cares? With the hustle bustle of the fresh batch of other passengers, the case gets forgotten. The suitcases were left, protruding outwards.

When I asked the air hostess if I could use the nearest lavatory, a pained expression ensues as she mildly points to the sign on the lavatory which says, “Only for Business Class Passengers” in dark red which would indirectly mean “Scuttle off, you second rate urine dispenser!”

After I fought my way back from another far-off lavatory through the mix of confused and way-too-hyper passengers still quarrelling to get their space in the overhead bin, I see the man’s suitcases are still there, jutting out and untouched. I guess the man never realized that the bin would never close. I slipped a surprise look at the man and realized that my surprise look might just be comforting, since he smiled back at me. The man then got up and started pushing the suitcase in. May be he thought there was a secret door behind the bin that would open. Or maybe he thought the distraction would work, since the plane was about to take off. As people start pushing and locking these bins, the host came running to this man. “Sir, I told you not to put it here, how will it close?” The man responds, “How will I get my stuff out during the flight.” Ha-Valid point and obviously the suitcases are relocated to another floor storage compartments somewhere in the plane.

After a shaky take off, I felt relaxed. “It can’t get worse than this.” I was ready to ‘let go’. The plane gets stable and it was around 2 hours after the fasten seat belt sign was turned off and meals had been served, a family of five right in front of me decide to get themselves reorganized in terms of their sleeping positions. After a brief nap, I opened my eyes again and there they were. The father and mother sleeping in the front of the seats (the first row where there is ample leg space). I had never seen a couple sleep on the floor but I guess all was good since I realized people treat Air India more as Rajadhani then anything else. Both their daughters squeezed in a space which covered four seats, and a higher active son was nicely jumping around the area. His newfound activity was taping back the entire wallpaper/carpet that stuck out from the division wall in front of him since it kept peeling off.

After a few hours, I get up to find another lavatory only to land up in a tormenting one. “XREeeeeeuuuuu,” The maintenance unit behind the mirror made a creaking noise and just opened out into my face. I patched it back with baggage stickers that were strategically placed too keep the mirror in place. But to no avail. A few smacks on my face told me I had enough. As I held the stickers in place and washed my face, I began to gather the tissues with my other hand and prepared to make the exit. “XREeeeeeuuuuu” and another smack on my face and I decided that they should put up a sign “Enter at your own risk.” Obviously I let go.

As we approached midnight, I saw passengers cozying up to go to sleep. The rest of the night was good, except for squeaky kids, malfunctioning video/audio noises and a wake up announcement every 30 minutes. “Please pay attention. As the plane goes through turbulent weather, we request you keep the seat belts on.” Or rather. “Please pay attention. Our crew needs to sleep and we need someone to monitor this plane, so please don’t doze off and help us help you.”

I guess I wasn’t prepared for the insanity at the Bombay Airport. First, as you clear the immigrations and what not, there starts the hunt for trolleys. Passengers started running around for a spare trolley. The game was simple. Whoever touched the trolley first owned it. After 19 minutes of futile attempts, I managed to discover a chain of 7 to 10. Like a Good Samaritan, I looked around to point other passengers to it and placed my hand on the last one. One middle aged lady sticks her hand out and slaps it on my newfound trolley and gives out an “Oh Shit” disappointed reaction. I cursed my sense of generosity since it took another 30 minutes to find another trolley after I gracefully gave up my trolley to the lady.

In a very short time (About 2 hours), we finally get our luggage and we are off on our own to find our way through the familiar ‘Chai-paani’(tip) wallas. One guy literally asked me for a tip for providing his incomparable services of just accompanying me to the Taxi Stand.

4 Am and I got home. Air India truly prepares one like a military training. So I guess I paid for this unparalleled training experience. The rewards – Mom’s cooking and a good nights sleep in the comfort of my own bed.

Why burn in a funeral pyre? Why serve others when there is nothing left to serve you? Why protect others when brutes come to hound you? Why pray for us when your own faith is being tested? Why love unconditionally even through trauma inflicted upon you? Why heal others when your own wounds are cavernous? Why lift our weight when your arms hurt? Why still wake up early when sleep deceives you? Why make our houses so livable through your own last portion of savings? Why stitch seamlessly for others when your own clothes have multi-colored patches? Why invite those who have scathed you? Why still sing lullabies when your throat is so parched? Why colour our world when we leave you in total darkness? Why still bless others in your times of dire need?

Indian Women: We Salute You

Inconsequentials

Hands wrapped around a coffee mug, sheer sorrow laden eyes, tranquil mind and a certain carefree yet conscious look, she sits in Imperial Café. The questions from the past pour in, “Why me?” “Did I deserve this?” and the automatic nature of the self-imposing thinking process kicks in. “May be I should have figured this out a while back.” “There were so many instances that I overlooked.” Like a certain flower burdened with mud, she sinks into her coffee.

“Remember, darling, our favorite coffee – decaf hazelnut.” She shakes out the very thought of him, in a giant slurp. Wide-eyed and bushy tailed children whiz past her chair, and she offers them not a giant smile or candy, but lets slip by a grief-stricken look. “The ground floor would be ours, children can take up the first floor, and you know, the less invasive, the better, yada yada.”

She growls at the thought of her ex-fiancé; “You forgot Judy’s room in the equation right next to ours.” “If only I had seen through you then.” “It has been six months so I have had time to heal” She gazed at certain formations in her coffee; as a young girl, she was tricked into drinking milk by her mother, who would guarantee a magic of sorts upon embarking on a journey to the dairy land and…. “Stop”, she almost yelled. “Reminiscing about my family is a form of nostalgia I will use to drape my inhibitions of dealing with my current problems.” “Ah Gosh, my psychology classes aren’t helping me one bit. I guess this is how my patients felt like every time they digressed from the sorry descriptions of the misfortunes of their self-professed pathetic lives and me having to correct them instinctively.”

“Sometimes it’s a tonic in itself, observing inconsequentialities when in deep thought,” her mother used to say.

She looks around and glances at a baby in mother’s hands joyfully playing with her newfound toy-her mother’s hair pin, some waitress at the back hymns melodiously to a song, a homeless man outside pounces on a coin tossed by a passerby, one kid makes a click click sound with a light switch which just won’t work, one customer makes a house of sugar packets and then chuckles at the crumbled state upon poking it, twins argue over a piece of chocolate, an old old lady whistles while reading her newspaper upside down; and the coffee machine releases a whooshing sound that seems like a soothing background music, another customer plays a beat with a fork and a spoon which seems weirdly to match the waitresses’ hymn and the lady's whistle, and suddenly the entire coffee shop comes to life, and her past gets buried in the back of her mind. She takes one satisfied sip. Quite a tonic.

He walked with Him

With salt in his hand
A smile on his face
And a resolve in his feet
He marched with Him.
Unsure of the aggressor
Bewildered by the arrogance
Notwithstanding the apathy
He reassured Him.
What calmness lay in his visage
And serenity in his speech
That albeit injustice
He comforted Him.
How will His Grace not descend
Not have compassion
For an undaunted man
Who befriended Him.
Many deeds will transpire
Many tales will woo laurels
But a few will truly know
How modestly he confided in Him.

And I woke up this morning

And I woke up this morning,
With spirits devoid of joy and sleep,
Pondered instinctively about the fate,
Wondered if the shower could discolor,
If the soap could clean,
If the foam could wipe away,
The emptiness in me.
And I woke up this morning,
With feelings of eternal blues,
Feared if solitude was a visitor,
Wondered if the darkness could float away,
If the gel could unblemish,
If the warm water could befriend,
The lonesomeness in me.
And I woke up this morning,
With the clamor of a ring,
With the jangle of a song,
Assured that it will uplift me,
Ensnared by its rhapsody,
What hope sprawled in its creation,
And happiness sprinkled in the drum.
Finally a song that could wash away
The loneliness in me.