Throughout my India trip, I got used to get up around 3 O'clock in the morning and couldn't sleep any further. As soon as I got up, the memories of my mother would flashback in my mind as if I just woke up from a bad dream, unable to reconcile with the fact that she isn't there anymore. A la Ray Charles who famously sang "Georgia in my mind", my mother is in my mind. During the afternoons I napped for 2-3 hours to catch up some sleep, managing to get my quota of 6-7 hours of sleep a day, enough to keep me sane during the torrid times.
As usual I got up at 3 AM on the morning of my day of departure, but felt something unusual, as if someone prodding me to check my email. Invariably Whatsapp and Facebook are the first two things I check whenever I open my phone, emails invariably being the last thing. This time something inside me told me to check my mailbox as soon as possible. I just saw an email intimation me that my Virgin Atlantic flight from Delhi to London has been canceled. Soon it was followed by another email saying that my flight had been rescheduled for the same route to take Air India from Delhi to Doha, then from Doha to London Heathrow in a British Airways flight at 7.30 PM, almost 7 hours ahead of schedule. To make it more difficult, I had to reschedule my Indigo from Bhubaneswar to Delhi to connect to my international flight, so I had to leave my home around 10 AM, about 8 hours ahead of my original schedule.
With not much time left, I went into action mode. I promptly called the Indigo Airlines Customer service, prepared to pay the price difference for pre-poning (advancing) my flight. But to my surprise my evening Indigo flight was canceled too, so the Customer Service Rep put me on another Indigo flight leaving for Delhi at noon free of charge. I tried to sleep, but couldn't sleep any further as I needed to get prepared as my flight has been advanced by 8 hours. If I leave Bhubaneswar at noon on a 2 hour flight to Delhi, I will still have plenty of time to catch my 7.30 PM Air India flight from Delhi to Doha.
Or so I thought. No sooner I arrived at the Bhubaneswar Airport, during check-in I was told that the flight is running 2 hours late. Then it became 3 hours late, before the flight took off from Bhubaneswar termac around 3.30 PM. Upon arrival at Delhi Domestic Airport, the flight taxied and sat on ground for at least another 30 minutes. I literally huffed and puffed my way to the International Departure gate and managed to catch the flight to Doha when the final boarding call was being announced.
I took an Air India international flight after 24 years, though inadvertently. Thought that it would have got better with Tatas taking over it. But old wine in New bottle didn't make it any better. The seats looked trashy, in-flight entertainment system wasn't working. So I decided to doze off only to be woken up by a short, plumpy Air Hostess who needed my help to close the overhead cabin as she couldn't reach there. I duly obliged. Another passenger addressed her as sister. Heard medical nurses in India being addressed as "sisters", never knew Air Hostesses were addressed as same. Thankfully the flight to Doha was only for a duration of 4 hour.
My next flight was from Doha to London was in a British Airways flight. Couple of things stood out on this flight - a beautiful English breakfast and an equally beautiful tall, brunette English Air hostess at service. It instantly brought back old memories like data pulled from a database using a unique key. My mother was aware of my fascination towards tall girls. One fine rainy summer evening there was a long power cut with mosquitos 🦟 swarming around. Mom who had a decent command over Odia and Hindi literature, always used to tease me - "Somewhere your tall dream girl is waiting for you to be her Prince Charming murmuring - "RUPA RAIJA RAJKUMAR HEBA MO MANA CHORA (the Prince of the glamor world is going to steal my heart). I was hardly any Prince Charming, but for all moms their son is the most handsome dude on earth. I replied - "A girl dreams of a man lifting her for miles in his arms, but now I can think of mosquitos lifting me for miles". We usually take the liberty of having light hearted talk with our moms, often tease them, the same liberty we rarely take with our father.
At Doha Airport I saw few Arabians in white cotton helmets, with their female folks tagged along in black attire from top to bottom peeping through tiny slits cut below their foreheads - looking like Ku Klux Klan members in black attire. Covid virus won't dare penetrate their impregnable visors.
Arrived back in Georgia with my wound from the sudden loss of my mother still raw. I am yet to recover from the shock following her sudden demise. Time is the best healer but it is going to take a long time to heal. Time almost heals every thing, but it comes with the disclaimer "almost". Some wounds never heal. Couple of songs from the 1977 Hindi movie "SWAMI" makes a lot of sense now.
"PAL BHAR MEIN YEH KYA HO GAYA,
WOH MEIN GAYEE, WO MAN GAYA"..
Transliterated...
"What has happened in twinkle of an eye,
My mind is gone, so also Me"..
And follows another one from same movie,
"YADON MEIN WOH, SAPNO MEIN HAI,
JAE KAHAN,
DHADKAN KI BANDHAN TO
DHADKAN SE HAI"...
Transliterated,
"She is in my thoughts,
She is in my dreams
Where should I go,
For relationship of heartbeat,
is tied to my heartbeat.
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