Airport

Faces. Happy faces and sad faces. Anxious faces and worried faces. Faces glowing with excitement, faces dimmed with despair. Hundreds of faces and hundreds of lives; hundreds of stories, hundreds of emotions, and hundreds of light bulbs. Yes, light bulbs. It was around 8:30 in the evening and here I was, standing in bright light, totally exposed, among hundreds of strangers at the airport arrival lounge.

As much as airports fascinate me, equally, I find them confusing. They make me wonder. Like, where to go? Where’s the washroom? Where am I supposed to wait? What do those big black screens flashing numbers indicate?

 Or, why is coke’s disposable and club sandwiches so expensive than usual here at the airport? And that one particular fear that always get to me: How am I going to find my person that I’ve come for? Or how are they going to know where I am? What if I am waiting in the wrong lounge? What if they never found me? What if I got lost somewhere here? –Pure paranoia. Childish paranoia.

So yeah, here I was, with that particular fear, standing consciously in the middle. Her flight’s time was 8:45, so I decided to take a seat at the waiting instead of making a fool of myself. So, very carefully I walked to the series of jet blue seats that were fixed to the ground –smart, I complimented –and joined other people who were already seated there. Just as I sat down, I secretly expressed my dismay at the plastic seats. Couldn’t they have kept foamy couches instead? That would’ve been more comfortable. Totally inconsiderate management. I took my compliment back. And probably I wasn’t the only one who found those plastic seats uncomfortable. The uncle sitting next to me had the same annoyed expression. Or maybe, I was over-thinking, just so I may not feel alone.

Actually, airport is the only place where you can never be alone. People are continuously coming and going, arriving and departing; personifying our world, our lives. Smiles exchanged at the arrival, tears shed at the departure; like happiness is shared when a new member is born, and despair is absorbed when a dear one dies. From one destination to another; lives in constant motion…

My thought processes were interrupted by the loud cries of a kid –such a shrill irritating voice it was! I couldn’t help but turn around to see what’s wrong with her. Dressed in a light blue printed frock, she had tears rolling down here plump cheeks. Her hair which was a mixture of golden and copper color was tied neatly in two ponies. I would’ve called her cute had she not been crying like this. I saw her mother and immediately realized from where the girl has inherited such beautiful hair. She called a boy who was playing at the elevators; he was most definitely her elder brother. The mother asked him to take his little sister to the elevators. And I already guessed the reason for why she must be crying. He held her tiny pink hand in his with affection, and walked her to the elevators. For some unknown reason, I followed them with my gaze. They stepped on the elevator together with a bunch of other crazy children. I watched in amusement, how her tears vanished, her lips twitched and curved up into a smile –the smile was distracted when for a second she lost her balance, her brother quickly took her hand again– the smile returned, and I smiled with her. It’s true; sometimes all we need is that one hand to hold –that one hand, which could save us from falling. Sometimes all we need is that assurance that at least somebody’s there to watch over us. A little assurance, that no matter what, that one hand will always be there, to guide us out of dark, to help us walk through the foggy lanes, to mend us and help us run in one piece all over again. It’s true, that one hand can really save us from falling…

They came running and screaming in joy from the other elevator, debating over who will push the luggage trolley when grandfather would arrive. I smiled again. Those kids over there represented a part of my childhood that is long lost…

Hundreds of shades of life; all exhibited together at one place.

My eyes were moist, because when I looked up to see who it was, the picture was blurry. It took me a little time to realize that she had finally arrived, and had found me.

A Memory From Chandni Chowk

It has been centuries since I've written something. There’s so much that’s been happening lately; oh well, the whole 2012 passed away with me saying the same damn thing. Where did it go? I wonder.

A midst the havoc, I stand. I stand, a midst the havoc; in the middle of nowhere. Something left behind, something coming ahead. Nothing is enough. Knowing isn't enough, not knowing isn't OK, understanding isn't easy, explaining isn't possible. I’m losing the strings. Yes. Jee haan.

There's a tough schedule that I'm bound in. Exams coming up, assignments to complete, notes to prepare, friends to meet, relatives to pretend with, relationships to manage; and I, am nowhere.

And in this rush with thoughts totally scattered, life bizarre, under the constant cover of uncertainty, when everything has just blurred; I've come to a halt, held my breath, closed my eyes and  assume myself to be the Anjali Sharma of Rahul Raichand running down the street of Chandni Chowk in pouring rain. I’m once again the crazy ten year old obsessed with Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham. Free from all the shackles, going where the heart takes.

Amen to the strong childhood memories which somehow gives me strength and I manage to maintain the track, and go on in one piece.

High time that I start studying and prepare for my semester terminals.

Buona Fortuna.

Tonight.

In the middle of the night, I lay restless in my bed. What is this feeling? Have I not already buried the previous enigmas?! Have I not already decided to overlook everything? I sure have. But the previous ones are replaced by new ones. I can just not make out.

I've left the bed and I stand by my window now. The sky is clear, with soft clouds like rusty patches over a navy blue silk; very few stars could I see shining. The wind is chilly and it somehow feels uncomfortable, like I don't belong here. There’s a train of thoughts running in my mind. Each thought, vague and incomprehensible..

I look up at the sky, tracing with my eyes, the patterns the clouds make. It has always been my habit to imagine shapes and figures seeing the floating clouds…

There are some questions; some unknown questions and some uncertainty. I feel tired… And clueless.. And drained.. I need to look around and gather every piece. Everything makes perfect sense, but at the same time nothing seems to make sense at all. Maybe these stars would tell me something? Or the floating clouds might take me somewhere better? We all seek for an escape, don’t we?

The moonlight is falling on the floor coming down from the sky through this window… I have this urge to sit on this floor and absorb this cool light, and so I have settled down on this floor with my knees up to my chest, my arms locked around. I have my head up towards the sky.. Since my childhood, sky has never failed to fascinate me. Amazing how the colors change! The sun sets down making the sky go orange. Orange gradually turning to pink, pink slowly changing to purple, purple stirring to ink blue, ink blue ultimately settling to cobalt and cobalt finally turning into a canopy of saturated black sheet stretched to infinity with countless twinkling stars stitched over it.

Maybe I would just fly up there.. And touch the glowing stars, and see the ripples forming around them... Maybe I would just fly up there and sit at the moon.. Look down at the world… See the vast lanes spread out.. A train resting at its platform like a centipede in hibernation.. See the ocean waving up at me in envy for I could touch the moon which the sea desire to.. I see a time line; the vivid past, the fresh present, the bright yet hazy future...

The wind has become serene now, softly blowing my hair strands.. Soothing. It’s soothing I tell you. I cannot help but inhale deep and sigh at the radiating beauty of the night sky. Wonder if there’s somebody at any part of this world doing the same thing as I am right now? Somebody having this same feeling as I am having right now? Somebody fighting with doubts? Somebody walking uncertainly on a foggy road, unaware what’s ahead? Somebody? Somebody worrying of loosing what they hold? Somebody thinking why a person walked in and changed everything? And why a person walked away and took everything along?

Somebody thinking about how life changes and we don’t even realize? Somebody stuck in deciding between a truth and a lie when both seem equally true? Somebody having these same thoughts? –if yes, then you should know you’re not alone. Under this same sky, under this same moon light, sharing the same air; its you and its I, and we're thinking alike.

Fiction: I'd Like To See Her Again

On the far side of the park in the pouring rain, she sat at the vacant bench.

See her face, what do you see?

She fell in love; in the wrong time, in the wrong place, with the wrong person.

But could she be blamed? Since love is inevitable. It just happens; in the oddest time, with an extremely wrong person. And fate is always there to make you realize that.

She wouldn’t wince, no matter how sharp is the blow of this heavy rain falling upon her. It was like, the sharper was the blow; the more unreal would she take the pain to be. The more drenched she’d be, the more real will she find her own existence. It was like, she’s trying to make sure if she is alive or not. She was trying to put the fallen things together; herself.

Even in this dim light, I managed to see those bruises of despair on her face being dissolved into smooth lines of resignation and acceptance.

That moment, she seemed totally drowned in desolation, absolutely lifeless and dejected; puzzled and lost. And this moment, her anguish was transformed into ease. It was obvious, that she has finally submitted to her ironical fate. She has successfully put the fallen together –herself; leave alone the uncertain duration; because sooner or later, she was going to fall apart, again.

Was she crying? Or were they sigh of submission? I know not. I wanted to go up and tell her how courageous she is, to sit by her side and tap her shoulder for her braveness and endurance. I wanted to tell her how proud I am of her; of course I didn’t know here, but I felt this unknown connection between her and myself. A very powerful connection for that profound instance; because her story, was pretty much my story.

I looked up, and she was gone. When did she go, I don’t know. Where did she go, this I don’t know either; but she wasn’t there anymore.

I was left alone, with a feeling of regret to have missed a chance of talking with somebody whose story was in union with mine.

Her face revealed a story, a heart wrenching story; story of love, story of pain, story of despair, story of loss, story of separation, story of dejection –story of contentment.

I wish to God, to see her again. Yes, I’d like to see her again.

 

You know, fate could be really brutal at times. For some, it begins with misery and ends in happiness; but for some, the misery gets worst towards the end.

I wouldn't know

In life, we come across many different people. But not necessarily do they stay with us.

Believer of unseen as I am, I hereby believe, that all those people with whom I came across in my entire life, does have a relation with me. No matter even if for the tiniest second we met, since we did come across, our lives did interfere. I may not remember them and they might not remember me, But He who is almighty, does know it all. And since He knows it all, we know it all. Even if I wouldn’t know, and even if I couldn’t see it happening, Somewhere, I would know still.

I see a man, and I might not ever see him again, and one day when he’ll be dying, I wouldn’t know.

I see a baby girl smiling to me, and I might not ever see her again, and one day when she’ll be getting married, I wouldn’t know.

Some friends I have, we might not stay in touch forever, and one day when they’ll miss me somewhere, I wouldn’t know.

One day, like this, it would be I who would die unlearned, unknown. And people wouldn’t know who I was really, what were my thoughts really. I would be gone, forgotten. But they wouldn’t know ever..

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