[The date on the picture is off by one year. Apologies.]

The Royal Dutch Treatment

So, you guys. Have you been waiting here very long?

Ah yes. Our flight got cancelled, they brought us back from midway. And we've been sitting here since morning now.

Aaah okay. I shift you to Business Class. That good?

Yes! Please!

Some things in life money can't buy. Not when you're not earning yet.

Ticket from Amsterdam to Mumbai which got cancelled: Rs. 20000.

Waiting at the Airport munching on McDonalds: Rs. 650.

Being re-routed on the evening flight on World Business Class: Priceless.

And I'll tell you why...



[The M button is for Massage.]

One Word. Fusilli.

The author of his blog humbly begs leave of absence. For only a little while, you understand, as he...err...roams about a bit.

Oh, snicker snicker. Jump for joy, jump for joy. Such charm, such poise in one so young! How could they refuse the visa?

I Was At Work!

Oh God! I forgot! Damn!

It's been two years! Over two years!

Damn. I forgot!

[Does this blunder have at least the one solitary silver lining? In that I can henceforth be considered not as egotistical as I'm so often made out to be?]

Just To See What We Get

What does this button do, I wonder?

Even as he began to press down upon the big, red button, the process started within him. As his finger pressed down further, he felt the expansion in his mind.

It was like a release. So many knots unloosened somewhere inside, so many twisted threads straightened once more. He stretched out in this expansion, this gaseous occupation of his soul in a bigger and easier plane of existence.

He drifted and he drifted. It pained at times. Oh yes, it did. Sharp prick-points of hurt and tears came through layers and layers of tough skin, and pinched and poked on cuts that had surely only just appeared.

But he was drifting away now, and he couldn't care much. He pressed down upon the button. Even further. Till it was completely depressed under his finger.

He was in the sky now, free of a dragging earth. So free, so disconnected. So utterly independent.

The molecules had broken loose. They moved themselves. Everything felt a lot lighter than it ever had. How little things do things really matter?

Which was entirely true. For the bonds had been broken, and the molecules released. What is, after all, a molecule? Nothing but a small portion of a whole, which by its infinity comprises the whole? And what is the whole without these molecules? Would he find out now? A new world, yes?

Sensation was lost now. Reason departed.

Before his very eyes, under the feel of his skin, he knew it, the bonds had broken. There was no more skin. What had happened of his eyes? And the last spark of coherence in his mind whispered this before leaving - You fool, like all others before you! How will you stand now?

Karnataka State Highway

Cha?

Uh? What?

Cha? Tea?

Oh. Haan theek hai.

And I realized the truck was stopped. It had grown dark. My watch said it almost midnight.

He got off from the driver's side. An old man he was. Our shipment interested him, he said. Were we engineers?

Yes, I replied. Students.

So are my sons. Three of them. I'm just barely paying the fees by driving long distances. Let's hope it's worth it.

I stretched my arms to open my side of the door. Wearily, I jumped off the seat, onto the ground below. The ride wasn't even half complete, and I was just so tired already. I kicked the air with my legs to get them working again.

Yawning, I walked up to the open-aired eatery. It was a small space, with a few chairs and a couple of tables. It was a small place to pause, on a long and lonely road frequented only by truckers.

A young girl, maybe 12 maybe 13 years old, was the one cooking and serving. She was dressed in a white shirt with a long green skirt below. The driver asked for two cups of tea in the local language I didn't know, and she got working on it.

Behind her, on the otherwise unoccupied table, was what looked like a lone reading light. On closer inspection, I noticed it was just a lantern. A boy, her younger brother perhaps, was studying under the light. I couldn't tell what he was reading. I couldn't tell what it even looked like. But he was studying dedicatedly, taking notes in a little notebook.

She poured the milk first, into the glasses washed quickly and kept together next to each other. She picked up the jug of milk and swung it over the glasses, spilling only a little on the tray she made it on. Having filled them with milk halfway up, she poured tea liquor into the glasses and stirred them both. She didn't add any sugar. I didn't seem necessary either.

Her hands moved fluidly as she prepared our tea. She was so young. Maybe life wasn't so mundane for her yet. While the mind was young and uninfluenced, even vapid tasks could be interesting through enthusiasm and ability. She didn't stare blankly into space or frown wordlessly.

But she didn't smile either. She just did her work with a pleasantness, maybe that's the word. Will it ever go away? Will it soon? Her brother continued to study behind. He was wearing a sweater, because soon the night would turn very cold. He wouldn't be sleeping, I guessed. Nor would she. More trucks would come and more buses would pass by this snaky road up the ghats, as the night progressed.

We drank our tea gingerly, in that manner everyone seems to adopt late at night, out in a journey, in strange and unknown surroundings. Slowly I sipped it, and looked around me, into the trees and up the hillside. There was no water in the milk at all. She turned away to serve the other customers, with that same efficiency of motion and action.

We paid her. And I walked back up and sat inside the truck. Ignition, and the great beast lurched forward into motion.