Think of what you'd love to carry with you if you're sent to a foreign country for several months where they don't even speak English? I took 5 books of my favorite Tamil writer - the late Sujatha, totally weighing about 2-3 kilos. Enough material for me to read, read and read for the next several months.
It was my first international flight. So my parents, brother and uncle had come to Chennai airport to send me off. Due to some security arrangements (?!!) visitors weren't allowed inside on that particular day. I was so upset because I had so much time to kill until I board the flight, and now I had no company. They were also upset since I had to manage all things alone with no one's help. Anyways, as long as Chennai security is on alert I'm happy.
All the way from the entry point to boarding point, for some reasons the movie 'Ayan' kept coming to my mind.
I had very less idea about boarding an international flight. And even lesser idea about 'how to pack your bags so that you can get away with few extra weight than permitted'. I made the terrible mistake of packing all my favorite books and my winter clothes in the same hand luggage, which looked a bit over-weight. At home it measured just few grams over the permitted level. Damn my weighing scale. At the airport it weighed at least 3 kilos over the limit. I had to decide between books and winter wear. Survival or Sujatha. I made the tough decision and pulled out all the books one by one, only when it came within the limits.
I tried to change my mind by observing other people around. There were confused foreigners, casual dhotiwallas, scared lonely women, naughty kids and some very-good-looking girls of Lufthansa airlines. After some time a person came and sat next to me with a book in his hand. He was unknowingly, unintentionally teasing me. It was Sujatha's 'Srirangathu Dhevadhaigal' in his hand!
I wonder how things like this could happen. There seems to be some sort of connectivity in all that happens around us. Otherwise how will someone come and sit next to me in such a big airport with a book of my favorite writer in his hands, whose books I had just some time ago left back half-heartedly?
Finally, after waiting for 100 odd minutes, watching 100 really odd people, IBM-Infosys-Oracle-Cognizant backpacks, I set foot on the Lufthansa carrier to Frankfurt. After politely declining drinks and patiently finishing my food, I casually sat and observed other people around. There were mostly Indians, Tamils especially.
To my right was a German guy who watched movies without wasting even a minute of the 10 hours flight. To my left was a boring Indian family. At the front were some naughty americanized-tamil kids and behind me a loud Polish family.
Overall it was a not-bad journey. My personal excitement of first long distance flight was neutralised by boring people and their loud snores. Also the environment was 'almost Indian'.
I managed to watch SRK's 'Rab ne bana di jodi' for some time until I could bear it no longer.
The flight was nearing Frankfurt.
--S--
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