The Air-borne identity

It's arrived a little too early for everyone's comfort... The smell of moist earth (or moist slush, as is more usually the case in this city) has hit the nostrils almost a month in advance. The sales managers at most Umbrella manufacturing/distributing companies are downing their drinks already. The average, proverbial, common man has started worrying again. And in the reality of our roads, cracks (literally) have started showing up. Not that the BMC needed any manifestation of Murphy's law (everything there is anyways fucked up...), but nevertheless, God, while playing dice again, has decided to play a different move this time.

In addition to the cumulonimbus clouds craftily placed over one of the runways of MIAL, just to make the game a little more interesting, our dear who-art-in-heaven decided to add a canine chaos to the drama. And "All the king's horses, and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again", or in this case, all the ATC's resources couldn't drive the creature away from the other runway for a good forty minutes, which were enough to make almost the entire airport staff, as well as the pilots (and not to forget the passengers) feel as if a mad dog had bitten them, and a severe strain of rabies had spread all through their respective systems...

"I believe I can fly... I believe I can touch the sky..." is probably what that helpless creature would have been singing. Perhaps every day of observing useless jokers fly high would have inspired the dog to claim "If these creatures can do it, then certainly I, who is much more faithful than the average traveler, can also do it. All I need therefore, is a good airplane". And good airplanes - they are aplenty, so many that you can keep four of them flying indefinitely, and yet have enough remaining on the ground to be filled up.

Of the five hundred odd passengers who remained in the air much longer than their cheap fare permits, there must have been some dog-owners certainly. I am sure at least a few of those would now be giving second thoughts to their undying love for whatever sub-species they own...

And it has also been heard that the MIAL ATC has outsourced the dog-catching operations to a SWAT team that has been specially trained to deal with precisely such kind of extremely dangerous situations....

एक बार फिर...

पता नहीं यह कैसा लगेगा... मात्र-भाषा जरूर है, पर फिर भी एक दूरी सी है हिन्दी से... शायद इसलिए कि आखरी बार हिन्दी में कुछ ज़्यादा लिखा था करीब १२ साल पहले... तब से आज तक कहीं कुछ लिखवाया गया है तो इंग्लिश में... शायद ये इसी देश में होता होगा। कहते हैं किसी चीज़ की एहमियत तभी पता चलती है जब उससे दूरी काफ़ी बढ़ जाती है। आज हिन्दी में ये ब्लॉग पोस्ट लिखते हुएऐसा लग रहा है मानो किसी और को लिखते हुए देख रहा हूँ। ज़्यादा लिख भी नहीं पाऊँगा। चार वाक्यों में ही ऐसा लग रहा है जाने कितना लिख लिया हो।

लेकिन सच कहें तो एक अलग ही मज़ा है... बस देखना ये है कि कितनी बार हम ये आनंद उठाने के काबिल पायेंगे ख़ुद को...

Sunday Afternoons…

It’s close to 3 on this Sunday afternoon, and there is something traditionally familiar about this afternoon as well. As if we had all gathered together to sing oft-sung hymns in the praise of oft-praised Gods…

The soft warmth in the wind, being spread around by the ceiling fan; the faint post-late-shower drowsiness; the sight of the reduced numbers of vehicles on the road, as if the traffic itself is taking an afternoon nap; the cozy smell of garlic and pepper being used in probably the apartment next door; the taste of potato wafers eaten in passing; the occasional rustling of the newspapers, as if adding a minor note to the afternoon symphony, which (unlike a traditional symphony) is an experience affecting all the senses…

For some reason it feels as if time stops for a little longer on a Sunday afternoon. Looks like Time itself is busy remembering every other Sunday, and is perhaps pausing to reflect on times gone by. And every single thing looks like it has happened before. Like a photocopy of earlier moments. Almost the same everytime, regardless of the years gone by, or of the change in the entire set of surroundings, like a photograph, only a little affected by the weather but overall still the very same.

And it’s with the same photo-album-viewing anticipation that one waits for these afternoons, to relive the same, simple sensations that thankfully, somehow seem to withstand all the other stuff that time throws in our way. As much as people believe in TGIF, perhaps a different kind of positive belief should also be attributed to TGISA…