I’m leaving on a jet plane…

[a bit I wrote while sitting at the airport, disgruntled]


….Only, not quite. The flight has been delayed by a whole fucking hour.. thanks to some strange flight delay from the Calcutta end. It’s miserable. I’m sitting at the lounge, feeling most piqued.. and that’s an understatement.

All around, are passengers in transit.. as the case should be. People who I saw sitting once I had first walked into the place are all gone now. a whole new horde have come in to take their place.

And with all my luck, this new horde brings with it.. kids.. all around me.. swarming.. yelling for “mamma, teetos”.. that’s cheeto’s for the uninitiated, being fed chocolate by dear mom and granny.

Into the valley of death, rode I..
Babies to the left of me, babies to the right of me, babies to the front of me..
Hollered and thundered..

I’ve chucked my shoes. Sitting with laptop comfortably on my knees, and busily tapping away. It’s a way to vent, without VENTING..

Not that I have anything better to do. I have, in a flash of brilliance, put my bag, with all cash and cards, into my luggage, which is now happily along with other luggage, wherever. So, I cant even buy a book or a coffee.. THIS is true urban riches.. the woman has a laptop, but no money.

People around me.. all looking ahead with blank faces, and dazed expressions. When they get tired of that, they look around surreptitiously, to see, what other people are doing. Bangalore is probably the place where one sees the maximum foreigners.. all in a state of flux. Tall white, short white, fat and thin white.. and the occasional yellow, blank and brown. What I have to give them is that ability to carry off the worst outfit with shabby-chic flair. In front of me is a tall blonde woman with this ghastly skirt, and top. If I wore it, my own mother might disown me. However, on her it looks pretty good.

A kiddie stuffing her face with peanuts peers with great interest into my laptop. Maybe she thinks it contains the more important secrets of the universe. If she comes too close and tries to touch my laptop with saliva coated fingers, and I wont be responsible for my actions.

The boombox just told “passengers traveling to cal that “they will be served snacks at gate number 3”. Immediately, mass exodus to gate number 3. Bongs just cant get enough of food.. even totally crappy flight food.

Currently, I’m ok sitting here tapping away.