Row 14, Flight 6E 257

Flight 6E 257. From Bhubaneswar to Mumbai. Seat No. 14D, E and F. Three passengers. All three sad. All three cried, sniffed, slept and wrote in their diaries during the three hour long flight. D wrote down his expenses, F wrote some addresses and E, this blog post. 

D didn’t speak much. Sobbed quietly. Probably being a man, he couldn’t cry openly. His cabin baggage was a thin plastic bag, out of which he took out some fruit and ate during the break.  He kept looking ahead, towards the captain’s cabin, hoping, it seemed to urge the pilot to go faster. He was fidgety and restless. He slept when the food trolley came and pretended he didn’t hear  the air hostess when she called him. He looked left and right and slowly took out a pocket diary and pen. He wrote down his expenses date-wise. He wrote it down till the 2^nd decimal point. He added it up and did some thinking. Then he hung his head, cried some more, put his diary back and looked heaven wards in despair. We were 10 kms above sea level, the pilot informed us, so probably closer to God! He muttered something, put his seat back, and went to sleep. 

F was different. She was in bright clothes, and wore a lot of gold. She was on the phone whenever it was allowed. She spoke in Oriya, which most of us understood. She had to speak loudly, for the person at the other end couldn’t hear. She covered the mouthpiece with her hand, hoping it would muffle her voice. She didn’t realise, probably, that the chances of her meeting any of us again were really slim and that no one gave two hoots about her family problems. That’s what seems to be the issue.  When I had walked in, she was on the phone. She stopped when we took off and again spoke during the break. She cried when she wasn’t speaking on the phone, putting up a brave front. “Don’t worry, all will be okay, such things happen..I will come very soon again”. Hang up. Sniff sniff.  Call back again! I imagined old, ailing parents, a sister in a bad marriage, some relatives with monetary problems...but couldn’t decide what her problem was. She blew her nose, switched off her phone and went to sleep, looking worried still.

I took out my diary then and started writing. I had been faking sleep till then. Why had I been sobbing? Well, that’s a REALLY long story. A blog post wouldn’t do justice to it. It will probably be a book. A “Jhumpa Lahiri type deep book” as some might say!!

I looked around. The world seemed normal otherwise. People were eyeing the pretty air hostess. Wanting water, asking really dumb questions (“Emergency door has to be opened only during emergency no? “ I mean... really!!) Looked like it was only us passengers in 14 D, E and F who were worried and sad. Different people, different problems, all brought together by some divine intervention to row 14! (I am not counting A, B and C. They were foreigners and everyone knows foreigners don’t have any problems. What? They really don’t!) Wonder how we would deal with our lives and what would become of us once we landed. I wanted to hug them both, a group hug of row 14 (Indian nationals only) and tell them that things would be better and that they shouldn’t give up. But well, they were both snoring now (in rhythm, no less!!), so that couldn’t happen. Plus, it would be really weird for them. They didn’t know me. To them, I would always be the girl in 14 E, who came sat, sniffed, wiped her tears, pretended no one saw and then proceeded to eat a whole bar of chocolate!

Where ever you are, 14 D and F, have faith. Things will be better soon.