Image from Wikimedia Commons
This blog is about a lesson I gained when flying from
Chandigarh to Mumbai after a short personal visit. Our aircraft was waiting on
the tarmac for its cue to take off. Every now and then cries of “Paneer, I will miss you so much” and “Sector 17 rocks. Down with Andheri” punctured
the strangely awkward silence that had enveloped the plane.
I say strangely, for a space full of North Indians is
usually many wonderful things, but rarely is it quiet. It was almost as if
everyone on the aircraft had some sort of premonition about the things to
follow. I glanced across the aisle to my three college buddies.
- The excitable South Indian returning to what South Indians call their native.
- The Mumbai girl rolling her eyes about something that was so 2012. Whatever.
- The Navi Mumbai guy fondly thinking of the Harbor Line.
I guess, if someone had looked at me to pass judgment, they
would not have failed to notice the typical good looking Pune chap furiously
figuring out ways to stereotype everyone on the plane.
But that’s not what the blog is about. My study of my
friends was interrupted by the pilot announcing that he expects mildly wild weather
on the way to…[Followed by a pause and sound of shuffling paper] …Mumbai.
The engines revved, the lights dimmed, and the pilot sighed.
(This should have been our first warning). I looked up and found the air-hostess staring down the passenger section and shaking her head like Raakhee
Majumdar every time she is told that Amrish Puri has killed another of her sons.
And we were on our way. Well, almost.
Remember those Reader’s Digest special features on facing
death and experiencing life changing moments? The person at the center of it
all is taking his family and friends for granted. He is going about things in a
carefree manner, usually whistling to show that he is carefree.
Bang. A chain saw comes loose. A beam unhinges. Boiling water
tips over. A giant Ladoo rolls down the hill.
A voice in our hero’s head tells him that he took work too
seriously. He is going to die soon. He should have listened to “If Tomorrow Never Comes” by Garth
Brooks and Promiscuous Girl by Nelly
Furtado more carefully. He laments about not telling his loved ones how much he
loved them. A moment before impact, he writes that article for the magazine,
goes to the post office, stops on the way for a smoke and then dies.
Back to the aircraft from Chandigarh to Mumbai. As it picked
up pace, it started to move from side to side on the runway like it was trying
hard to avoid something. Or as is the case on North Indian roads, hit
something. Someone screamed at the back of the plane. I closed my eyes to find
an image of Bane whispering. “Calm Down Doctor. Now is not the time for fear.
That comes later.”
The runway refused to run out, the aircraft remained
reluctant to take off, and the awkward silence from a moment ago was replaced
by one that was completely eerie. The whole plane was now one single living
thing. And it was shitting in its pants. I looked at my friends.
1.
The South Indian was chanting Rajnikant
Rajnikant.
2.
The Navi Mumbaikar was muttering something about
the next stop being CBD Belapur.
3.
The Mumbai girl was rolling her eyes. Jimmy Choo.
Whatever.
The machine gave in and finally took off. This was reason
enough for someone to scream. “Don’t worry” I heard someone else say,
“We are in the air”
More reason to worry, the screamer replied.
No sooner were the words said, that we heard a long and hard
grinding noise from the undercarriage. Normally, it signals the retraction of
the wheels but that night the noise was different and prolonged. It was the
sound that lasted for ever. It was the love child of Anu Malik and Himesh
Reshmaiya crying out on having his bums forced over a cheese grater. Our plane moaned
and bled, and beautiful unicorns and exotic butterflies died a painful death in
some part of the universe.
“What is happening?” someone asked. “Lightening hit us”
Someone replied. “No, we hit a bird”, another voice said.
And then the plane went down.
This is how it feels.
Shit.
People screamed, the South Indian jumped on his seat, Mumbai
girl went vacant in her eyes, and I told myself that it was such a shame to
have life end this way. I closed my eyes. I prayed. Think straight. Be
practical. What would Liam Neeson do?
The plane corrected itself. Momentarily. Before hitting
another air pocket. And people screamed like you will not believe it. The
person in front of me pressed the button to call the air-hostess. Possibly for a glass of water? A packet of chips?
The air-hostess, strapped in her chair and facing us, looked
hard at that man. It was the DGCA approved method of saying “F off”
The aircraft continued its struggle against gravity by going
up and down alternately. I closed my eyes again and prayed to God to help me
make it through tonight. I will be nice to everyone. I am so young and
unbelievably beautiful to die this way.I opened my eyes, and to distract myself read the Flight
Safety Manual for the first time in my life.
One of my friends looked in my
direction and screamed. “GP Is reading the safety manual! “
The plane erupted in an explosion of screams. “He is reading
the safety manual”. Someone said “Look at the Wing. Look at the Wing” People
climbed over one another to throw their faces at the windows.
“They are on fire”
“They are missing”
“They are of the wrong size for this plane”
"They are like my....The Left One is lower than the..."
The wings waved back at our faces. “Hello, what’s up?”
I continued to send mental I love You’s to everyone I had
known. Quickly allowing myself to go through memories, faces, books, songs,
events and experiences that in their own ways brought so much joy during my
time on earth. I thought of my parents and how annoyingly tall my sister is. I
thought of all the wonderful friends over the years. I thought of my wife. And
how her eyes glitter when someone mentions the mountains that she comes from. I
thought of all the stupid dogs with all those stupid wet noses. I thought of you,
reading this.
On cue the weather cleared up. The frequent lightening we
had seen receded in our wake. We made it to Mumbai safely. Another shot at
life, I guess. If you want to be dramatic about things.
But it was scary when it happened. And if there is one thing, I would like everyone to take from this blog is the line between being a part
of a list in a newspaper report, and reading one is not as thick as you believe
it to be. I learned it on that flight.
Every day you live is made of a thousand ways in which you don’t die.
While our sense of mortality should not overwhelm us and freeze us up, it is
also something not to be lightly ignored. YOU WILL DIE. I WILL DIE. Everyone
who reads this will die. Even those who forward this blog to ten people in the
next ten minutes will die. You death will be
serene, but you will die nevertheless.
I started by saying this blog is about a lesson I gained
while flying from Chandigarh to Mumbai. It is actually a sum of two parts running
in separate directions. The first one is for those who find it difficult to express
their love, like I do. While we can’t
control the instruments of our death, what we can do is tell everyone how much
we love them. Let me just say loud and clear, each one of you is awesome.
The second part is for those who find it difficult to read
between the lines when dealing with people like us. And I know, there are many, who
are not too good with saying those three words. But if you look closely
enough, every time our type walks out of that door and looks back – we are
saying I LOVE YOU. THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING !
There I said it. Now you should too.
And Yes, one last thing before you die. Subscribe to my blog , Join me on Facebook and Follow Me On Twitter Ok ?
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