It's 7 am, and here I am, yet again, brimming with words at an airport. I still haven't figured out what exactly it is about terminals that gets me all chatty. From inference, it has got to be the bad coffee.
It's Valentine's day in two days, and no offense s'il vous plait, I don't give a flying eff about that or any other lie that the greeting card companies want to feed me. As far as I'm concerned, Feb 14th is just another day. Just another day UNLIKE Feb 13th. And I'm sad that I am having to fly so far away from where my heart truly is
Yes, I'm in love. Nope, not getting philanthropic here. To hell with mankind! Actually no. Peace be with it! Because I'm in love, and I've only been more so everyday since that Feb 13th, that doesn't seem as long ago as it actually is. God, How time flies! Incidentally, it's time for me to fly… or so claims the sultry voice coming from the speaker that I did not know I was sitting so close to
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Sitting inside Flight AI668 with a stream of wispy white cirrus clouds gliding below me, I now realize the reason behind that conniving smile - the one that I got from the woman at the check-in desk when she readily gave me the window seat on the left side that I asked for. From my left, an emergency exit fixes me in that classic deadpan gaze that all emergency exits are renowned for. Nothing ever comes without a catch. I'm sure that somewhere 17,000 odd feet below me, there still lingers a trace of that evil smile. Crafty bitch! Now my backpack will have to vegetate in that overhead compartment. Thankfully, this time around, the coffee is better, and as the saying goes (if there is one at all), no matter where you are, peace is always just a caffeinated cup away (provided it is an artfully caffeinated cup, of course)
Doubling back from that tangent… yes,…
1) I'm in love, as (if not more than) I've been for almost a decade
2) our big day is right round the corner;
3) I will be spending it hundreds of miles away from where she is
4) And that sucks more than I've ever imagined it would
Work beckoned, and I left her behind. I could perhaps have stayed (I know she would have, had she been in my shoes). But I didn't. Now the guilt trip has begun, and here I am, desperately trying to ease it by writing about it. Deep down, I already know that it isn't going to help. Yet I go on. We are, after all, devotees of pointlessness
One would be lead to believe that my first priority has always been my career. Yes, I spend countless hours on my craft, and I do lose track of time while I am at it. I go on, sometimes forgetting sustenance, slumber, and social life. Yet, from the day I started out on this road, she has seen me through every story and every piece of art I've created; sometimes by giving me feedback and sometimes by just being there. I get inspired often by her dreams and sometimes even by her nightmares. Many a time have ideas sprung out from completely random conversations that we've had. We spend most of our time together just bumming around with no plans whatsoever and yet have so much fun.
I do not know what tomorrow has in store for me, (literally! - Bad weather up here. Thankfully, we don't have any oxygen masks dropping down just yet) , today I am happy because I have her in my life.
Alright then, It's getting a bit too rough up here to continue rambling on. So off I go. If you are reading this, then it means that I am back on terra firma, safe and sound
P.S: Yup, that's my tattoo you see on my forearm - the closing lines of the poem titled "Inventing Aladdin" by Neil Gaiman. It continues to see me through the worst of creative blocks. And I am waiting for the clock to strike 12 tonight, so that I can listen to it in the voice that has saved my life in the unlikeliest of ways
P.P.S: Come to think of it, this here emergency exit does give one false hope and a falser sense of security
P.P.P.S: Mumbai....Starbucks.... here I come!
