This one is for dad and Indian Airlines

 

"Come on let us go. We are already late." – Me

 

"Son, did you pray to God and did you take blessings from your grand-mom before you leave?" – Dad

 

Well, out there in Hyderabad, where I've been staying for over a half year, I don't remember praying, but I guess when you are leaving you house for 4pm flight at 2:45pm and the airport is good 30 kms away, it is a mighty good idea to pray and take all the possible blessings.

 

"Yeps, Dad. Done. Shall we?"

 

We get into the car. Dad gently starts the engine and looking through the rear view mirror he gets the car on the main road and we roll. Surprisingly, at 3 in noon, radio is playing all the old classics. I love all of those songs, but I couldn't concentrate on anything but the vehicles in front of our car and the ticking watch on the dashboard. Driving on Indian roads is no small feat. And it isn't anything short of personification of multitasking.

 

Dad, dials in a number while generally speaking to my mom who is in the back seat, squeezed gently with my overwhelming baggage. "Hello, Subodh, come to the regular junction. We'll pick you up."- Dad

 

I am oblivious to this telephone conversation as all I could see were vehicles in front of us and all I could hear was ticking sound of my dad's wrist watch. We get on the main road and dad keeps heading straight in the direction of 'sat-rasta junction.' Now, this is suicidal junction. At a small circle in the middle of residential area, seven two lanes broad roads meet. It is one chaos and can turn your travel into a hara-kiri mission. Perplexed I ask "Why didn't we hit out straight along the sea face? We going to be stuck."

 

"We picking up your uncle."

 

Ahh, I forgot. Folks were heading for a social gathering after dropping me off at the airport. Not bad, we still have chance to pull this one off. I tried reassuring my self. This self deception lasted only for a while, when we were stopped by bunch of volunteers, who informed us the road ahead is blocked for religious processions. Turn back, and take the fly over. We took one big turn, riding back to get on the fly over. Only to my worse surprise, the fly over was bottle-necked.

 

"Call up uncle, reroute him. We'll pick him up on way to Bandra, on the Cadle Road."

 

"Roger that dad. Done."

 

 

"Ohh, no we can't pick him up there, there is no right turn here. We can't take this road. Call him up again…"

 

"Dad, it is Sunday, let us just go. Law also needs some rest."

 

"Relax, Son. Don't get worked up. Think of another road to airport."

 

"At best (or may be at worst) I can think of driving. Taking the wheel. Can't come up with anything else."

 

"Relax."

 

 

Clock was ticking. 3:20 we were back where we started, ahhh well maybe with a head start of a couple of kilometers. I was pushing my dad to hit that gas paddle real hard but a balanced and careful person like him would hardly budge. I started blabbering. "I've got to be on that flight. I can't take a bus ride of 18 hours to Hyderabad. No ways."

 

"Son, I will make sure, you won't get on a bus."

 

But he didn't say I would get on the flight. I know, my dad could swipe his card and off I would go on another flight. No worries son. But, I wouldn't get my self on that flight. You can't blow money like that, can you? (If it is his money, why not? buttttttt)

 

 

Five more minutes and we picked up my sweetest uncle. I really love him. This isn't the place to say, 'he has been there through thick and thin.' But he has been. Gem of a good person. For the pleasant and originally jovial person he is, he couldn't help but comment on my attire. I was wearing a free Google t-shirt and ragged Bermuda.  I just wanted to be at ease, but…

 

"Do you think they let kids fly alone in their shorts?"

 

My dad chuckled and mom almost joined in the muffled laughter. I shot a stare back and said, "Not a good time to joke." (Not a good time to joke.Twice.) Who was I ? Some action hero stubbing fellow passengers while he was amidst intense brain storming?

 

 

Well, desperate times- desperate (shit) stuff comes out of your mouth.

 

There was this big dumper crawling ahead of us, leaving mud trail on the road. I so felt like getting a bazooka and blowing the shit off. I wished the car had one more gas paddle, right under my foot. Lot of wishful thinking.

 

 

Mom was pretty silent all this while, but not long before she broke ice by giving suggestion on possible ways to get to airport. I don't know, if the present situation was enough confusing… it just added some more spice to the story.

 

 

However, my dad is one hell of level headed guy. He had done his calculations and he was going to stick to this road. So he did. We took the last fly over and hit the high way. I was only hoping the speedometer will cross 70kmph and I will sneak into the check in line.

 

Well, the speedometer didn't cross 70 but I managed to sneak into the check in line, unfortunately wrong-one. Checking in for my flight had closed down half an hour back. It was 3:45 and I wanted in on 4pm flight. I begged and begged some more. Finally, the man behind the counter bugged. He put his initials down on my ticket and asked me to go to lady on counter 12. From counter 4 to 12, ran and ran hard. There she was, dressed neatly in the Air India saree. I managed innocent of my smile and put my case forward.

 

"Brits left India sixty years back but left this word 'Sorry' behind. Don't you think so?"

 

 

Well, me? I wonder why did they leave you behind, my dear lady?

 

But, I couldn't speak my mind. I looked down and muttered; "I understand I'm causing you a lot of inconvenience but …am sorry."

 

Like the first sorry wasn't enough, I managed to tick the lady off again.

 

"You, irresponsible youngsters, you book cheapest ticket on your dad's credit card and arrive ten minutes before the flight. Don't even bother to give me any excuse."

 

Alright. Lady. Now, man's patience has some limits. Specially when pushed enough by his own folks before-hand.  I said, "I know I'm late. I'm sorry although it wasn't really my fault. Please, listen me out… my plane is still on the ground and so am I. I got to be on that plane. Can you please do something about it. I have to get on the plane."

 

 

She scribbled something on my ticket and like a goddess; she blessed me with my boarding pass. I rushed to the next counter, again same story, but this time the lady was little more kind. And by then, I had mastered my cock and bull story. I handed over the documents, gave some bull shit and got through. I still remember the spark in the woman's eyes when I passed on my true-lies to her. She bought it. I was on. My luggage was taken in and I was assigned a seat.

 

I rushed to security. As if I was some terrorist, the policeman had to go through all of the 8 pockets of my Bermuda. Got pass that and made a dash for gate seven.

 

In that hallway sprint, I realized someone is shouting out "Hey, mister…mister."

 

And by the time I turned around, the flight in-charge lady was on her feet almost ready to run after me. I skidded a foot or two and stopped. I was gasping for air, but I managed to ask her, "What's wrong? Let me go. All checks done, I need to catch my flight it is leaving in two more minutes."

 

"Yeah, sure. If I don't stamp your boarding pass, you aren't going anywhere son."

 

"Gees, sure. Please, stamp it. Stamp it all over."

 

I'm sure, I gave shock of her life to the flight attendant when I got in and asked, "Is this flight going to Hyderabad?"  I mean has anyone ever asked this? I doubt. I was just too worked up.

 

She said it is. Finally, I could breath easy. I pushed through all the people to grab my seat. I walked down all the way till the toilet but could find 2C. Came back, started all over again, it runs from 8A to 30E, but no 2C. Doom.

 

I ran back to the lady at the front of the aircraft and on the way when I passed executive class, I spotted 2C. In fumbled tone, I muttered; "Emm M'am if I'm not wrong, this one here is 2C right? That is my seat right?"

 

She smiled and said "Yes." Immediately, she took a couple of spaces to help me with my luggage.

 

Olla Amigos, all of a sudden from a cheapster dressed in rags, I was first class.

 

It was time to sit back, put my i-pod on and order for a coffee with fresh cream.

 

This one is truly to my dad, Air India and something that is beyond us, that got me through today.

 

 

Don't get all that worked up, stay calm, things happen. They always happen, but do find a moment to have a laugh, maybe at yourself – maybe at the situation around.

 

 

Neo