It wasn’t the long goodbye as I arrived at the Mumbai International Airport, only to find out that a bunch of Gujjus (and I meant at least a few hundreds) have come to see their five friends off. Gate ‘C’ of the international airport was more crowded than Dadar station platform (A local-train station in Mumbai) in the anticipation of Virar local.
Mom, dad, brother and my brother’s closest friend made their way to the airport and I didn’t have space, time or the peace of mind to talk to them before getting on the flight. I couldn’t help but remember the last time I left India for Germany, when my mom’s eyes were moist as I hugged her, dad with his ‘take care of yourself Son’ pat on the back and brother overjoyed as there will be no Big Brother around… at least I had the time to soak all of this in. This time around was the most hurried and stressful Goodbye. And I fear it will be some time before I see them again…
Silver-lining was that all my baggage got through without any additional charged and I came out see my folks for one more time. My joy and peace somehow reflected in their smiles as well. And once those glass doors automatically shut, I turned around and doubled up towards immigration counters.
After all the formalities, I found myself sitting in the cramped window seat of the Air France flight to Paris, the same one I must have taken a few years back to reach Germany. I tried but I couldn’t be as psyched as I would have liked to be.
..Morning touchdown at Charles D’Gaule Airport and I didn’t find myself stunned with the magnitude of the airport or amused by the French beauty. I walked around all over the airport while waiting for my connection to Boston. I realized that until Europe it was a familiar territory, beyond this point every inch of the space, ground and society was alien, was foreign. As my flight to Boston took off, the blinker started showing flight route over the Atlantic Ocean and my mind wondered in the exact opposite direction… Berlin, Blackforest, Mumbai, Hyderabad, B’lore, New Delhi.
It was a long and boring flight but eventually we saw the Boston skyline. I felt excited for a second as we descended over the by towards Logan international airport.
I had pictured this very moment in many different ways in my mind. I had thought of making it to the land of opportunities, making something out of myself, starting afresh, making it big and so on. However, all of these thoughts and feelings of excitement had abandoned me and all I was concerned was get my luggage, clear the customs and make it to the last connection. A week later I still think about it and feel, it is one of those brief moments in life that offer you more thrill as you wait behind the curtains rather than being at the front line of it.
After three flights, two bus rides and a cab ride, I finally made it to Z-1, Fountain Park – my new home.
Scattered furniture, stinking house, two strangers occupying it as stop gap arrangement, dusty and dirty room, toilet dirtier than public facilities greeted me with door flung open. Aakarsh walking up in his bermudas, with a widest smile on his face, promise of beer in his smile and joy of meeting a friend saved the day for me at the end of 35 hours journey.
Neo
