Of Flights, Foreign Places And Fears!

 

I am Rajesh, and I am travelling in a flight for the first time.

The last two months have been a whirlwind affair. When I applied for a job in Mumbai, the city of dreams, I was absolutely sure that I would not get it. How could I, a simpleton from the village of Palakkad in Kerala, hope to get a job in what people refer to as the industrial capital of India?

And yet, I got the offer. Before I knew it, my parents were making preparations to send me off to Mumbai. There were numerous calls every day from my relatives who were scattered around Kerala. Funnily enough, while many of the relatives had their family members working in Dubai, they still spoke and behaved as if Mumbai was a bigger deal.

While I am excited, I am anxious too. First things first, I am somewhat familiar with the Hindi language and I can speak English very well. But I feel that language could be a problem there. Then there was the city’s lifestyle. Mumbai thrives and comes alive at night, while for me, the day ends at 7 in the evening and my entire family usually goes to sleep by 8.30. A few of my colleagues from Mumbai who spoke to me over the phone for HR-related work teased me that while I was all gearing up to sleep, they were still working in the office. Would I be able to adopt this work culture?

Mumbai is one of the most active cities in the world, and in comparison, my village in Kerala leads a peaceful and unhurried existence.

As if all these differences weren’t reason enough to worry about, I had the big issue to deal with.

I was afraid of heights and the company had arranged a flight for me.

Looking around the airport, I feel a crazy urge to run outside where my parents are still waiting. I want to work in the comfort of my own village. I want to be surrounded by my parents and familiar people. I want to live the unhurried life of my village. I want to work at reasonable hours and enjoy peaceful evenings at my simple home. I want to sit at the front porch of my  home with my parents after dinner and watch the empty lane outside the gate of my house.

I take a deep breath. It is too late now. I will have to make peace with my decision.

The shuttle –bus transports me to the stair affixed to the aircraft that would take me away from my homeland to a land that is entirely foreign to me. I take a good look at the enormous plane and it fills me with awe and fear at the same time.

To my relief, I have got a window-seat. I quickly call my parents and have a very short conversation with them before I switch off my cell.

The plane starts running on the runway after few minutes. I grip the arms of my seat tightly, the speed of the plane both exhilarating and scaring me.

I am not prepared for the feeling of weightlessness as the plane leaves the ground. Even though I am not leaning out of the window, I can see the ground below and also that the plane is tilted. A cold palm settles on my heart and I quickly avert my gaze.

After a few terrifying seconds, the plane seems to fly steadily. The sign for seat-belts is off now. But I still wear it, afraid to remove it.

“First time in a plane?” The lady next to me asks gently. She looks middle-aged and like me, she is also on her own. I nod, unable to trust my voice.

She smiles. “I remember my first flight too. I was scared beyond words. On top of it, I was flying away from my maternal home to my husband’s home in an unfamiliar city, all on my own. My husband, not knowing that I was scared of planes, booked me a flight ticket as a ‘surprise’.” She laughs lightly.

I smile at her easy banter.

“There was the fear of flying but mostly there was the melancholy of leaving behind my parents. For a married woman, every visit to her childhood home brings both happiness and grief.”

I nod, her words comforting my own inner turmoil.

“But then you know what helped me deal with my fear and my melancholy?” She says. “I looked out of the window of the plane and saw the ground below. It filled me with peace for some reasons. May be the fact that I could still see the ground was a reminder that I am not that high.”

I gulp and peak a look outside the window. To my surprise, I see tiny buildings and thin twists that are roads at some places and streams at others. I keep watching for a few minutes, feeling settled.

I feel a tap on my hand. I turn around and see the lady smiling at me.

“The sight of the earth below also brought in the realization that wherever I go, I will always belong to the same good old earth and the majestic sky. No place is foreign as long as you have the earth beneath you, and the sky watching over you.”

A deep calm settles over me and I drop back my head in relief. With steady hands I get rid of the seat belt and give a grateful smile to the lady whom the universe had sent in my time of need. She smiles back and takes out a book from her bag to read.

I keep watching out of the window, the sight of the earth below me, and the sky in brilliant hues of orange and red filling me with peace and calm. I am ready for a new chapter of my life.

The One Who Got Left Behind

 

I am Shilpa, and I feel miserable.

It has been two days since I came to the United States to join my husband who had come here around six months ago.

I have a job here in the overseas branch of my company in India. My husband has rented a house in a cozy residential colony with lots of houses beside me, all having neatly manicured lawns and beautiful front porches. The neighbors seem friendly enough and have already welcomed me with home-made delicacies.

I couldn’t ask for a better life. And yet, I feel miserable.

All because I forgot to bring Marcel with me.

I was in my tenth standard and was suffering from anxiety. To help soothe my nerves, my father brought a stuffed monkey for me. I remember acting embarrassed when he gifted the monkey to me with a flourish. But secretly, I was delighted.

The monkey was black and white in color, and having started watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S, I named him Marcel after the character in the sitcom. Soon, Marcel became an inseparable part of my life. He sat beside me when I studied late nights and early mornings. He became my confidante when I developed my first crush on a boy and secretly confided to Marcel about him. He heard me rant about the never-ending studies and the silly fights I had with my friends. My friends often teased me, saying that it was uncool and unhealthy for a 14-year old to talk to a stuffed toy.

But Marcel was not just a stuffed toy for me. He was my emotional support. I slept better when I hugged him. I felt better after confiding my secrets, worries and anxieties to him.

Marcel was my best and sweetest friend, and I had just left him at my maternal home, thousands of miles away.

I was going to pack him in my suitcase. But since it was my last night at my home, I wanted his presence beside me while sleeping. I still carried conversations with him. I still clung to him for emotional support. And he had supported me that night by lying beside me on my pillow.

But then the morning had dawned, I had woken up late, my entire household was in chaos. I hurried through my chores and before I knew it, I had left my house and Marcel behind.

Now, as I sit by the lawn in the backside of my house, I feel a deep sense of having betrayed Marcel and acting all thankless by leaving him behind as I moved forward in my new journey. I feel my eyes well up.

I do what I always did whenever I missed someone. I start writing a letter to Marcel, foolishly hoping that my sentiments would reach him somehow across thousands of miles.

Dear Marcel,

I am sorry that I left you behind. I didn’t intend to. You know that. You also know how you got left behind on that chaotic morning I left home.

Marcel, I can never find enough words to express what you did for me. You helped me through my anxiety. You listened to me when I wanted to talk. You became my sole confidante, someone who never judged me for anything I said or did. You were my best friend and my morale support. You stood beside me through all the difficult times and the celebratory moments.

Now I find myself in a strange land surrounded by unfamiliar people and a new culture. That is not the distressing part. You aren’t there beside me to get me through this. I do not know how I am going to manage without you.

Someday I hope to return to my home. It may not happen soon, but I will return. And this time, I will bring you with me. It is only this hope that is carrying me through every day.

Thank you for everything that you did for me. I miss you.

I wipe my tears and keep my notepad aside. As I gaze over the lawn, my attention is driven to a movement in a tree. I focus on the tree and to my surprise, I find a monkey – a monkey with skin in the hues of black and white. The monkey jumps from one branch to another, looks at me, gives me a cheery wave and burrows inside the tree, disappearing from my sight.

I laugh in delight. Something tells me that my letter has reached Marcel and even from afar, he is finding a way to comfort me.

The Fortieth Birthday

 

I am Kavya, and it is not a good day for me.

Every time someone passes by my desk, I tense, dreading that someone will come to know that it is my birthday and will wish me. While I have always loved birthdays, specially mine, I am dreading this birthday like none other.

Today is my fortieth birthday. I cannot bear to think about this.

How did life fly by so fast? One day you are a teenager, dreaming about a career that will help you earn as well as make a good difference to the society, and about finding your soulmate and living with him happily forever. Before you realize it, you are forty, working as a software programmer in a MNC, earning not much but just enough to get by, and are woefully single.

I shake myself out of my pity party and try to concentrate on my work. A hopeless attempt, for while I am dreading that someone will make a huge fuss over my birthday, there is also that disappointed feeling that I am not doing anything special today. My parents called me over video to wish me. I am not expecting any other calls. Childhood friendships got lost somewhere in the flood of daily forwards, chat groups and reactions to every post in the social media. No one in the office knows and no one will bother. It has only been a year since I joined this MNC and while my colleagues are cool, we are not exactly wishing-each-other-birthdays close.

My intercom buzzes and I am summoned to my GM’s cabin. Work beckons as usual!

An hour later, I find myself outside the Ritz Hotel facing the beach. Chirag has accompanied me.

Chirag is the marketing consultant for our MNC. He meets potential clients looking for software for their firms/business and makes deals with him. He is the most successful consultant of our firm. At just thirty-five years of age, he is one handsome dude. That, along with his uber-confident stance and assuring voice ensure that clients fall for him within few minutes of meeting him.

Today he has arranged for a meet with the owner of the Ritz to know the software requirements for the hotel management. I have been assigned this project and I am super excited about it. Atleast one good thing would hopefully happen on my birthday!

Not just one. The beach!

I love it. I have often dreamt of spending evenings there on my own. But time constraints have made it impossible for me to visit the beach in the evenings. By the time I leave office, it is almost night. On weekends I am too lazy to leave the comfort of my home.

But the Ritz is situated at a walking distance from the beach, which means I might be able to spend the evening at the beach and hopefully catch a spectacular sunset.

I and Chirag step inside the hotel.

“Wow!” I say as I take in the grandeur of the hotel. “I am seeing a five-star hotel for the first time!”

Chirag smiles at me and gestures me to sit on the lounge while he proceeds to the reception. He talks to the receptionist who looks absolutely smitten by him.

“Seems Mr. Kapoor won’t be here until evening.” Chirag says with a sigh as he sits beside me.

“Oh. Now what do we do?”

He taps his fingers on his legs and then says, “Come on, let’s have lunch.” He gestures to the in-house dining inside the hotel.

I look at him wide-eyed. “You mean, there?” I know it will be too pricy.

He grins at me. “Come on.”

I follow him dazedly. Lunch in a five-star hotel’s restaurant!? Not a bad way to celebrate my fortieth!

I look at the menu and realize that I can’t pronounce half of the names in there. Without sounding condescending, Chirag explains the items to me and places the order.

A waiter approaches our table carrying a plate with red roses. He places them beside me with a smile and a flourish.

“They do this for everyone, you know.” Chirag says. I nod happily. I couldn’t care if they do it for every person coming here. This is special for me! I take the roses and arrange them in my handbag.

Over lunch, I and Chirag share news of the office. It is very easy for me to talk to him. He was the first one with whom I worked after joining the company. I usually accompany him on his visits to finalize clients and I interact with them for their software requirements. I have always found him to be easy-going and jovial.

Lunch passes by breezily and I really have a great time.

Chirag once again asks the receptionist and this time when he returns he shakes his head.

“Seems Mr.Kapoor won’t be here today.”

“Oh, okay. I guess we should return to the office then.” I say.

He looks at me and gazes out of the glass doors of the hotel. Then he looks at his watch and shrugs. “It is already four. Why don’t we spend the rest of the evening at the beach and call it a day?”

“The beach??” I ask incredulously. This is too good of a coincidence. My birthday is becoming more and more special by the minute.

I grin and Chirag grins back. “Come on.” This time I tell him and we both excitedly walk out of the hotel.

The beach is everything I imagined and better. The sun’s rays have painted the water and the sky in hues of pink and lavender. A gentle breeze blows, bringing with it the smell of salt and sea and I close my eyes to savor it.

Sitting beside Chirag who had miraculously brought a blanket with him, I feel complete today. Gone is the dread of my fortieth. This is life. I smile blissfully.

“I could use something to smile about.” Chirag says gently. When I look at him, I find him gazing at me with an odd expression.

I inhale deeply. “Thank you, Chirag. You don’t know, but today is my fortieth birthday, and you made it really, really special.”

He clears his throat. “I know.” When I look at him in surprise, he takes out a wrapped gift from his bag and gives it to me. “Happy birthday.”

“You knew all this while?”

He looks sheepish. “Actually, I also knew that Mr.Kapoor would not be available today. I just wanted to do something special for you on your birthday. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

I only look at him in confusion.

“I… I have a huge crush on you, Kavya. Right since the first day you and I worked together. I find you fascinating.” He says, sounding nervous for the very first time that I have known him.

“You do?” I ask in disbelief.

He chuckles. “Why so surprised? It is impossible for anyone to not to fall for you.”

“It is??” I ask stupidly.

He laughs. “Have you ever looked at yourself? You are… “. He searches my face for the right word. “You are you, Kavya. Amazing beyond words.”

His words warm my heart. I open the gift and gasp as I hold a limited edition of The Hobbit, one of my favorite books. I remember having confided in him a long, long time ago that I am a fan of J.R.R. Tolkien.

“You remembered!” I whisper.

“Of course I did. And I always will.” Chirag says. “So, what do you think? You and I – yay or nay?”

“I am elder to you by five years, Chirag.”

“Not an issue for me. Does that bother you?”

I look at him, seeing him in a new light. I think about all the moments we both have spent together. There has been laughter, fun and most importantly, companionship.

“How about you go out with me on a few dates, get to know me better? You can take your own time to decide about us.” Chirag says gently, understanding my hesitation in taking this major step of getting into a relationship.

If this didn’t work for me, then nothing will.

I smile at him and nod shyly. He looks as if all his wishes have come true in one moment.

We sit together in silent companionship, our shoulders touching, the promise of good times ahead filling my heart with hope.

The sun sets spectacularly, drenching the world in hues of orange and red. For me, they seem like the hues of love.

Flights, Babies And Magical Moments!

 

I am Navya, and I am traveling with my baby in a flight for the very first time.

I am nervous, and the reaction of the people beside whom I have to sit on the flight has done nothing to assure me. While one guy tried really hard not to wince, the other guy looked at my baby, shook his head and gazed out of the window.

Too bad that I get to sit in the middle of these two. Too bad that they will have to ‘suffer’ my baby who, in the meanwhile, looks supremely unconcerned.

The guy sitting on the window seat tugs his bag closer to his chest and stares out. The guy to my left leans back on his seat and closes his eyes.

I sigh. It is going to be a long flight.

---@@@---

I am Arnav, and I am frustrated.

It was bad enough that I didn’t get the window seat. I now have to sit beside a baby, who by the likes of it, gives every indication of being a royal pain.

I do not get the allure of babies. They are fragile, require a lot of attention and caring and patience, all three of which are missing in my case.

For two years, I and my wife have avoided the topic of parenthood. But she has started giving subtle hints. Although I do not mind becoming a parent, I just feel like I would not do much justice to the role.

The baby – Ayan, I think, I heard his mother address him so once – settles on his mother’s arms and grabs the bottle of milk with gusto. He makes cute cooing sounds. I would have enjoyed them if the baby’s tiny foot wasn’t kicking my ribs.

Actually, it wasn’t kicking. More like, touching softly, now that I observe.

A crazy thought comes to my mind. I gently tickle the baby’s underfoot. He widens his eyes, stops drinking and lifts up his head to look at me. Then he grins and playfully moves his leg up and down, gesturing me to tickle him again.

It is the grin that does me in. Converts me. Makes me a believer, if I may say. The grin is a mix of playfulness, happiness and innocence all rolled into one tiny being that has the capacity to wrap a grown adult around its little finger.

As I gently massage the baby’s soft underfoot, I realize that babies are really all right and perhaps it is time for me to start a family.

---@@@---

I am Shantanu, and I just wanted to sit in solitude beside the window seat and look out into the clouds, hoping that their sight will take away the melancholy of leaving my family behind. I am moving abroad for higher studies, and there is no saying when I will get to meet my parents and my sister.

I seriously never thought that it would be this hard. Saying goodbye to them has been the most painful moment of my life.

I just wanted to sit in silence and brood for a while, until the melancholy drifted away.

I didn’t expect to be seated beside an infant who promised utter mayhem throughout the flight.

Then I feel ashamed of myself for thinking such awful thoughts and risk a glance at the baby who is looking at me wide-eyed and curious.

His mother is searching for something in her bag and is holding the baby awkwardly on one hand.

“Here, I will hold him so that you can search comfortably.” I hear myself say and my hands, as if they have a mind of their own, stretch towards the baby. The lady looks at me in surprise and then hands over the baby to me.

I make him stand on my thighs and gently rock him. He giggles and starts moving his body up and down, as if gesturing me to do it again. I smile and repeat the motion. The baby giggles yet again delightfully.

Then he brings his palms near my face and gently rubs them on either side.

I close my eyes at the feeling of immense affection that the baby is projecting towards me. My eyes threaten to well up but I take deep breaths to compose myself. I settle the baby against my chest where he snuggles and looks at his mother.

Far too soon for my liking, she takes the baby from my arms after thanking me. I watch her gently rock the baby to sleep. The rocking motion calms my own turmoil and as I gaze outside at the clouds, there is a feeling of peace and bliss.

Really babies are all right. And I will be too. I know.