2.10 PM !
I looked at the watch even as I closed the door of the car. There was a mad rush at the airport, the cause attributed to the arrival of some celebrity. I was late for the function that I had promised to attend and was thinking of how to salvage the situation, more so when the one given the promise to was my wife. Amidst that hurry, the thought of a window seat guy and a subtle guilt came around to prick my conscience. The car manoeuvred its way out of the parking lot and I glanced out of the rear seat window to see if he was still around. Finally I gave up and reclined back to ponder about the events of the past couple of hours.
A background preceding those couple of hours in the flight is necessary to understand how I ended up there. So, here it is.
It was a Sunday and Sundays are special. It is not advisable to spoil a Sunday plan when there is a family at back home, my own family - A little kid and a lovely wife! Yet, that was exactly what I did. An urgent trip to Guwahati had to be made and along with that a solemn promise was extracted to be back home by Sunday noon.
The assignment was completed in time. The traffic was relatively thin when I reached the Guwahati airport two hours before departure for my return flight to Kolkata. However, time management went for a toss when the beautiful lady at the flight counter informed of a two hour's delay with a smile. "You are going to be two hours late Mr. Konwar! Two hours !" I told myself. And then the lady added, "Sir, we don't have any window or aisle seats left !" Perfect, the lady no longer looked attractive!
A few hours later, I found myself perched in the seat between two fine gentleman, my poor knees stacked against the seat in front. Leg space has always been my problem while travelling and I stopped complaining about it for sometime now. Height had its disadvantages; this was one of them. The person to my left was a middle-aged man occupying the aisle seat. He seemed to be a businessman on a tour dressed in neat semi-casuals and a high end tablet on which he was reading The Economic Times. The window seat was taken by a boy in his late teens or early twenties. He was dressed in a black jeans, a jacket and a scarf. A careful observation revealed that the clothes had been past their due date but neatly taken care of. Normal guy, middle class, probably a college student ! I had this habit of trying to figure out people by their appearances, particularly when I am seating in the same row with them on the same flight. A bad habit, but sometimes necessary.
My already spoiled mood was further aggravated when I was left looking for the metal clasp of the seat belt. I finally traced it to my window seat neighbour sitting on top of it while he himself struggled to put together his own seatbelt. The length of the seatbelt was short and he was trying to pull in his stomach to tie the clasp. I looked in amazement when he finally put the lock in place but then he was unable to breathe. His struggle to unlock it made me smile with a tinge of sarcasm.His first flight, I thought! I helped him unlock it.
"Excuse me, can you be able to tie this one... for me?" he said showing the seatbelt in his hands in an accent that told me he was new to speaking the language. It reminded me of my own student days when I had difficulty in picking up the correct grammar and vocabulary for the language.
I adjusted the length of the seatbelt and tied it properly for him. He smiled at me and said his thanks.
I opened a novel that I had been reading for the last few days. There was a hundred more pages left and the plot was entering into its final phase.
"How long to Kolkata ?" he asked in his broken English accent.
"One hour!" I replied in a monotone not wishing to continue the conversation. I was engrossed into the story. Besides the concern about the delay and the repercussions at home was always there. I made a mental note to get a few gifts on the way from airport to home.
"Excuse me, I need water... can you ask that air hostess?" the window seat guy looked at me expectantly. He was starting to get on my nerves. I didn't respond but pressed the overhead call button for the air hostess. He looked at button and then smiled at me "Thank you !". He got his glass of water shortly after that.
A few minutes after take-off, the food trolleys came out. The airlines was serving complimentary snacks to all the passengers and I was hungry. It was a nice change to see complimentary food when most of the airlines charged passengers separately for the same.
When the food trolley reached our row, the window seat guy spoke up "Excuse me, is that food priceless ?" I couldn't help but a smile escaped my lips. The air hostess looked at him for a second and then regaining her composure replied, "Sir, the snacks are complimentary. You don't have to pay for it."
"So, it means there is no price on it. Free?" he sought a confirmation.
"Yes sir!" she said firmly, the irritation was showing up on the lady's face.
And then the window seat guy gobbled the snacks in no time. A thought crossed my mind that maybe I should ask him to speak in a language he is comfortable in. But then he stayed silent for five more minutes, so I let it be and continued reading the novel.
"Excuse me, which way is the toilet?" the voice spoke up again.
I told him that he should go towards the back of the plane since the front side didn't have one. Without waiting for me to get up, he rushed through the narrow space between the seats inviting a glare from the businessman in the aisle seat. The distribution of snacks was not yet over and the food trolleys were still in the aisle. He stood behind an air hostess impatiently.
"Sir, can you go back to your seat for a few minutes. Please let us complete the service" I heard the air hostess address the guy at the back.
And so he came back and rushed through the narrow space hurting our legs one more time into his seat. And he sat there in silence.
The snacks service was over and the trolleys went back to their parking area. But the guy didn't leave his seat. Maybe he felt insulted or maybe he didn't wish to go any more. My concern was that he would stand up any time soon and then he would rush out hurting my legs again. I contemplated if I should ask him if he wanted to go out again. A few minutes later, the air hostess came up to our seat row and informed the window seat guy that he could use the washroom if he wished to. Was there a little ounce of guilt on her face, I would never know.
"Excuse me ..." he said but this time, I stopped him midway raising my hand.
"Wait." I told him. I got up. The aisle seat gentleman followed. Both of us stepped into the aisle to make way for the guy.He said his thanks and walked towards the washroom at the back.
A few minutes later he was back and we followed the same process till he was comfortably back in his seat.
"Excuse me, what time is it?" he asked.
"1.30pm" I replied. It surprised me that as a student he didn't have a watch. Some people don't like wearing one. Maybe he was one of them.
"Is that Kolkata ?" he asked in excitement looking out through the window pane.
"No, some other city." I replied.
"How much long to Kolkata?" he continued.
By this time I was absolutely annoyed with his questions and antics. I ignored him and tried to read the book.
A few minutes later, the flight finally landed in Kolkata airport. As the plane taxied into its designated parking area, my little neighbour was getting anxious. When the plane finally came to a halt, he was in a hurry forcing his way towards the front deck. I was absolutely pissed off.
"What kind of a student are you? Do you have any common sense?" I blasted at him.
He looked at me apologetically but didn't say anything. The people around were looking at us.
Gradually, he disappeared into the crowd. I got down from the plane as the queue of passengers gradually started moving forward.
When I reached the conveyor belt to collect my luggage, the little guy was present there. A gentleman beside him walked upto me and shook my hand. He said that he was sorry on behalf of his aide. I got to know from him that my neighbour throughout the flight was not a student but a helper of the gentleman I was talking to. He was seated in the front rows while I had the company of the little guy. He was an orphan and had been with the gentleman for a few years now. Perhaps, it was his anxiety and his self-esteem that made him react the way he had.
Apologizing once again,the gentleman walked away while the little guy followed him with the luggage trolley. He looked at me one last time and nodded his head.
I collected my luggage and walked towards the parking lot. Somewhere, the anger had turned into remorse, maybe a little guilt as well. I tried to reason with myself. I was angry with his behaviour but the apologies from his master had made up for it. And then the realization that he was not an average student but a teenager trying to learn a new language on his own effort made him a little different from the initial perception. A little window seat guy trying to create his own identity !
Phew ! That memory stays with me for sometime.
"Dada, please make a halt at CC2. I need to get a few things." It was time to get ready for a new challenge at home.
I looked at the watch even as I closed the door of the car. There was a mad rush at the airport, the cause attributed to the arrival of some celebrity. I was late for the function that I had promised to attend and was thinking of how to salvage the situation, more so when the one given the promise to was my wife. Amidst that hurry, the thought of a window seat guy and a subtle guilt came around to prick my conscience. The car manoeuvred its way out of the parking lot and I glanced out of the rear seat window to see if he was still around. Finally I gave up and reclined back to ponder about the events of the past couple of hours.
A background preceding those couple of hours in the flight is necessary to understand how I ended up there. So, here it is.
It was a Sunday and Sundays are special. It is not advisable to spoil a Sunday plan when there is a family at back home, my own family - A little kid and a lovely wife! Yet, that was exactly what I did. An urgent trip to Guwahati had to be made and along with that a solemn promise was extracted to be back home by Sunday noon.
The assignment was completed in time. The traffic was relatively thin when I reached the Guwahati airport two hours before departure for my return flight to Kolkata. However, time management went for a toss when the beautiful lady at the flight counter informed of a two hour's delay with a smile. "You are going to be two hours late Mr. Konwar! Two hours !" I told myself. And then the lady added, "Sir, we don't have any window or aisle seats left !" Perfect, the lady no longer looked attractive!
A few hours later, I found myself perched in the seat between two fine gentleman, my poor knees stacked against the seat in front. Leg space has always been my problem while travelling and I stopped complaining about it for sometime now. Height had its disadvantages; this was one of them. The person to my left was a middle-aged man occupying the aisle seat. He seemed to be a businessman on a tour dressed in neat semi-casuals and a high end tablet on which he was reading The Economic Times. The window seat was taken by a boy in his late teens or early twenties. He was dressed in a black jeans, a jacket and a scarf. A careful observation revealed that the clothes had been past their due date but neatly taken care of. Normal guy, middle class, probably a college student ! I had this habit of trying to figure out people by their appearances, particularly when I am seating in the same row with them on the same flight. A bad habit, but sometimes necessary.
My already spoiled mood was further aggravated when I was left looking for the metal clasp of the seat belt. I finally traced it to my window seat neighbour sitting on top of it while he himself struggled to put together his own seatbelt. The length of the seatbelt was short and he was trying to pull in his stomach to tie the clasp. I looked in amazement when he finally put the lock in place but then he was unable to breathe. His struggle to unlock it made me smile with a tinge of sarcasm.His first flight, I thought! I helped him unlock it.
"Excuse me, can you be able to tie this one... for me?" he said showing the seatbelt in his hands in an accent that told me he was new to speaking the language. It reminded me of my own student days when I had difficulty in picking up the correct grammar and vocabulary for the language.
I adjusted the length of the seatbelt and tied it properly for him. He smiled at me and said his thanks.
I opened a novel that I had been reading for the last few days. There was a hundred more pages left and the plot was entering into its final phase.
"How long to Kolkata ?" he asked in his broken English accent.
"One hour!" I replied in a monotone not wishing to continue the conversation. I was engrossed into the story. Besides the concern about the delay and the repercussions at home was always there. I made a mental note to get a few gifts on the way from airport to home.
"Excuse me, I need water... can you ask that air hostess?" the window seat guy looked at me expectantly. He was starting to get on my nerves. I didn't respond but pressed the overhead call button for the air hostess. He looked at button and then smiled at me "Thank you !". He got his glass of water shortly after that.
A few minutes after take-off, the food trolleys came out. The airlines was serving complimentary snacks to all the passengers and I was hungry. It was a nice change to see complimentary food when most of the airlines charged passengers separately for the same.
When the food trolley reached our row, the window seat guy spoke up "Excuse me, is that food priceless ?" I couldn't help but a smile escaped my lips. The air hostess looked at him for a second and then regaining her composure replied, "Sir, the snacks are complimentary. You don't have to pay for it."
"So, it means there is no price on it. Free?" he sought a confirmation.
"Yes sir!" she said firmly, the irritation was showing up on the lady's face.
And then the window seat guy gobbled the snacks in no time. A thought crossed my mind that maybe I should ask him to speak in a language he is comfortable in. But then he stayed silent for five more minutes, so I let it be and continued reading the novel.
"Excuse me, which way is the toilet?" the voice spoke up again.
I told him that he should go towards the back of the plane since the front side didn't have one. Without waiting for me to get up, he rushed through the narrow space between the seats inviting a glare from the businessman in the aisle seat. The distribution of snacks was not yet over and the food trolleys were still in the aisle. He stood behind an air hostess impatiently.
"Sir, can you go back to your seat for a few minutes. Please let us complete the service" I heard the air hostess address the guy at the back.
And so he came back and rushed through the narrow space hurting our legs one more time into his seat. And he sat there in silence.
The snacks service was over and the trolleys went back to their parking area. But the guy didn't leave his seat. Maybe he felt insulted or maybe he didn't wish to go any more. My concern was that he would stand up any time soon and then he would rush out hurting my legs again. I contemplated if I should ask him if he wanted to go out again. A few minutes later, the air hostess came up to our seat row and informed the window seat guy that he could use the washroom if he wished to. Was there a little ounce of guilt on her face, I would never know.
"Excuse me ..." he said but this time, I stopped him midway raising my hand.
"Wait." I told him. I got up. The aisle seat gentleman followed. Both of us stepped into the aisle to make way for the guy.He said his thanks and walked towards the washroom at the back.
A few minutes later he was back and we followed the same process till he was comfortably back in his seat.
"Excuse me, what time is it?" he asked.
"1.30pm" I replied. It surprised me that as a student he didn't have a watch. Some people don't like wearing one. Maybe he was one of them.
"Is that Kolkata ?" he asked in excitement looking out through the window pane.
"No, some other city." I replied.
"How much long to Kolkata?" he continued.
By this time I was absolutely annoyed with his questions and antics. I ignored him and tried to read the book.
A few minutes later, the flight finally landed in Kolkata airport. As the plane taxied into its designated parking area, my little neighbour was getting anxious. When the plane finally came to a halt, he was in a hurry forcing his way towards the front deck. I was absolutely pissed off.
"What kind of a student are you? Do you have any common sense?" I blasted at him.
He looked at me apologetically but didn't say anything. The people around were looking at us.
Gradually, he disappeared into the crowd. I got down from the plane as the queue of passengers gradually started moving forward.
When I reached the conveyor belt to collect my luggage, the little guy was present there. A gentleman beside him walked upto me and shook my hand. He said that he was sorry on behalf of his aide. I got to know from him that my neighbour throughout the flight was not a student but a helper of the gentleman I was talking to. He was seated in the front rows while I had the company of the little guy. He was an orphan and had been with the gentleman for a few years now. Perhaps, it was his anxiety and his self-esteem that made him react the way he had.
Apologizing once again,the gentleman walked away while the little guy followed him with the luggage trolley. He looked at me one last time and nodded his head.
I collected my luggage and walked towards the parking lot. Somewhere, the anger had turned into remorse, maybe a little guilt as well. I tried to reason with myself. I was angry with his behaviour but the apologies from his master had made up for it. And then the realization that he was not an average student but a teenager trying to learn a new language on his own effort made him a little different from the initial perception. A little window seat guy trying to create his own identity !
Phew ! That memory stays with me for sometime.
"Dada, please make a halt at CC2. I need to get a few things." It was time to get ready for a new challenge at home.
Nicely composed and a touching experience....Partha da, I will be looking forward to the next one...Excellent job!
ReplyDeleteConcluded nicely partho
ReplyDelete