The Trip.

The day of departure finally arrived. 31st May 2008. I was ready, my bags were packed. The flight was at 0745 hrs and Airliners expected me to check in 3 hours prior, what a waste of sleep time! So there I was awake at midnight talking on the phone, saying my final goodbyes and take cares to my friends and family. No, I was not going to Afghanistan in search of Bin Laden. But, I exactly knew about the calling rates from U.A.E to India and if you are one of those people, like me, who truly believe in mindlessly expressing themselves @ 30 paisa per minute in India, death due to non-corrigible, non-understandable Arabic telephone bill is imminent. F.Y.I, Orkut is banned in U.A.E as well, Goodbye friend’s network; it simply cannot follow. They have a bank there though, which is Simbbly better. It successfully phattens its profits by tapping the Ex-pat Maliyali population (God’s Own people).

The excitement of moving to a far away land did not allow sleep to come. So, after doing loads of time pass and last minute packing of “Maa ke hath ke bane hue Theple aur Aam ka Achar” (Hey, I am a Gujarati at heart, so buzz off), I got dressed in my favorite blue jeans; and the zipper broke off. What a bad omen! Fly with my fly open, no fucking way. It was like Pilot keeping the cock-pit door ajar, allowing passengers a view of the joy-stick. It is considered an abominable security breach. Strange was the time and vast was my plight. 0200 hrs in the morning it was impossible to find a tailor and unwillingly I changed into not so cool attire. My ride for the airport was waiting and I said a long bye to my family. Billo had started to bark in a queer manner, probably she knew her ‘Whoof, Whoof’ (she lovingly calls me that) was going away. I snuggled her for one last time, sat in the car and off we went towards the airport, first phase of an excitingly saddening and lonesome journey I had so willingly embarked upon…

Airport, especially ours’ (India’s), is a fascinating place to get bored and window shop overly priced eatables, mineral water bottles and useless duty free artifacts. I was checking out hot chicks, a rare occurrence, as I waited to check-in, nearly for an hour. Finally the moment arrived. Whilst my hand bag weighed a bit more than permissible limits, owing to laptop and a few books; the girl at the counter cracked pathetic jokes about me stowing away mangoes. I retorted, “As one stows, so shall one keep.” I knew it was an extremely lame comeback, but heck, I was too world-weary to notice my dwindling humor quotient.

The immigration thing went quite smoothly. My passport was stamped. Since the alleged non existent mangos cost less than what customs required declaring, I could easily pass through this passage, which was scarier than Star News and their infamous program “Sannnate ko chirti Sansani;” known only as the “Green Channel.” From there everything was going to be easier, so I had heard. The only part remaining was security checks.

The security lounge was huge and strewn with recliners for people to laze around. The wait seemed endless, amplified by the last night’s sleep deprivation. The recliners made matters worse. I was worried I might sleep through this entire cumbersome procedure and find myself on Mumbai Airport wondering, “Main Kahan Hoon.” But nothing of such sort happened and I cleared the security checks and within half an hour of waiting I was aboard!

The Plane took off, with it, my mind did as well. I thought about her, the girl I loved so tenaciously. I lucidly remembered how everyday she used to walk from the same corridor. Her colorful dresses always lit up our office. She walked wearing a smile on her face, greeting everybody, up to her seat. I eagerly waited for this particular moment every day. Never had I seen such mystical eyes. The world went in slow motion around me when she used to be around. Her Flowing hair created ripples in my heart. Her one smile had capabilities of melting million hearts. It was indeed a million dollar smile. God knew I was going to miss her. I could barely keep my eyes open as I remembered the times that were. Unknowingly indeed, I had flown to what my real destination should have been.

The air hostess was yapping about oxygen masks and seatbelts which I could faintly hear. I knew I would wake up in a different land and a time zone one and a half hour behind India. I was confused whether my good time lay ahead or I left it behind. I had compromised it for a ‘Tax Free Dream’. And, I slept.