Through the Looking Glass: From a Car

I look out of the car window and see so many people milling about – in cars, on foot. Standing, walking. Talking on phone, staring in the distance. Smiling and brooding. Children and adults.

And I see possibilities. So many stories – they could have been mine if Providence had so chosen.

There’s that woman in a saree leading her son by hand to school. I wonder how old is she. I try to judge from her face. Not too lined. Her son also looks to be a pre-schooler. May be she is my age. Is she happy to be who she is? Is she content? Would she have been happier, if she was I? Would I have found her life better? Perhaps the answer to all the questions is “Yes”. Who knows? But speculation is interesting.

Then there’s this old gentleman sitting by the road on a stool, soaking in the winter sun. He is dressed in a white kurta and pajama. His beard is white with age and perhaps wisdom. He seems serene as he slowly discusses the matters of the world with a young man. The latter does not seem to be his son or any kind of relative. Perhaps, he is a neighbour. Maybe, the two meet every morning in this same spot to share their first cup of tea and exchange greetings. The younger man on the way to work. The older looking only for that conversation. I try to gauge whether the old man would be my grandfather’s age. I wonder what he would be like as a grandpa. He seems to be benevolent and the kind who would spoil his grandchildren. I think I would have liked him in that role. But my grandpa is fun too. I smile and move on.

At the crossing, the light turns red. A swanky red car comes and stops next to mine. A very young man seems to be driving it. Only a teenager perhaps. He seems to be concentrating hard on the road. Who knows what’s on his mind? May be a date with his girlfriend. Or the Saturday night party. Or may be the upcoming exams. Would he make it to that coveted college? Would his dad be happy with his decision to join an acting school or fine arts? There’s so much pressure on him to do well. This car was a gift because he had managed to stay at the top of his class. But it seems like blackmail.

I can make out the music is blasting in the car, even though the windows are rolled up. I cannot make out the song but the beats reach out to me in waves.

On the other side in a very dashing black Honda City, a man in a pinstriped suit is very seriously reading the Economic Times. Not for him the frivolity of music. But I am probably being unkind. He could be a great lover of music. Only it does not suit his mood today. For all I know his work life balance is better than mine. He has hobbies, he keenly pursues. He is a lover of arts. Can play the guitar himself. Loves reading books and debating. A loving father and devoted husband. Then my thoughts take an uncharitable turn. What if he is a total snob? His polish and sophistication only a veneer to hide an acute lack of self-respect. I would not like him for my own boss. Thank god, he is not. And the signal turns green.

Oh, look. There’s that bunch of college girls. They probably go to the same college as I did. Was it so long ago? Do they talk about the same things as we did? The same giggling and conspiratorial tones. Plans to bunk college and bitching about the rigorous attendance requirements. Exchanging notes and planning get-togethers. College fest coming up – so what about the dress code? There’s a sale on in the nearby malls. Maybe they can find some good deals – mix and match clothes and jewellery to put together a cool ensemble.

They walk on towards that mall and my car travels the really short distance left to office. And there ends my imagination’s hour out. Until the evening.

Sky High

I will start with an admission: I do not like flying in an aeroplane. It makes me feel nauseous, my ears ring and my head is a like a leaden weight on my shoulders. Seriously overweight co-passengers who hog armrests and the plane-is-my-mansion kind who recline their seats regardless of whether you are eating, reading or sleeping make things worse. But the absolute pit is getting the middle seat. Or wait, getting an aisle seat with co-passengers who want to go to the restroom every fifteen minutes or so probably takes the prize.

Yet, of late I have chosen to book a flight because it saves time – time that is better utilized with family and friends rather than travelling from Point A to Point B.

So, last week, when I decided to take a seriously needed break from work, I booked air tickets with the extra pre-caution of selecting the seats in advance. I chose window seats – a luxury that airlines have been denying me for years now.

And it was a fortuitous decision. Because it reminded me of the only thing I love about flying.

I boarded an evening flight for my destination. The moment I had made the obligatory call home, I switched off my cell phone, put on my seat belt, took off my sandals, curled my legs under me and prepared to pass the two and half hour journey with my book and iPod. The plane took off in the usual roaring manner, with yours truly gripping the armrests and closing the eyes and hoping that the tinny noise in my ears would not last long.

Thankfully, the take-off was smooth and the plane soon righted itself. I opened my eyes and looked out of the window. And had my breath stolen.

It was after a long, long time that I was taking an evening flight and also had the window to myself. Outside my window, a glorious sight met my eyes. I was going west, so it seemed as if I was flying into the crimson sun itself.

The plane was far above the clouds. A melange of colours had lit up the beautifully soft and dense world of white below us. Red, pink, orange and all the possible shades in between were playing within the cloudy folds. I wanted to taste them really bad. Would they taste slightly sweet and cool, like candy floss? And I wanted to touch and roll in them. Know their feel, remember their texture.

It was a fairy land below me. Surely those spires of marsh-mellows belonged to the castle of the fairy queen. I half-expected faery creatures to peek out of clouds and wink at me. As if I was the only one to know their secret. Imps, goblins and leprechauns walking down the rainbow to the pot of gold. Tiny, little Tinker Bells with gauzy, sparkly wings and naughty smiles.

I also saw a huge polar bear with wings, flying alongside the plane – a knight escorting me to my destination, sworn to protect me against all misfortunes that could befall me. And then there was Pegasus being born right in front of my eyes – the head and torso rising out of the clouds and the wings taking shape, stretching white and magnificent. Mesmerising.

When the sun set and the white world beyond my window went dark, I returned to my book with a rueful smile. But of one thing I was sure. I could not ask for a better and more beautiful memory to begin my vacation.

To windows and flights, then.