Realisations at 30000 feet !

I realise. I realise that the last time i wrote a blog post, was a period in history called 'long back'. Or perhaps 'So long ago..'. Giving it a stone age kind of feel. Stones. Deer skin etc ! Now that is stretching it too far. Yes. I realize.

I sit here on this airplane. With such realisations and impressions.

For instance, there is this grand realisation that people can stretch their vision far and wide. The lady sitting next to me has been reading all that i type onto the screen. It feels a little odd, to put it mildly.

I realise that typing that sentence has had no effect on her.

I realise. There are people in this aircraft, that are rude and crude. Like life. In general. As though there was a prize for being so. And there are people that are nice and neat. Like there is a prize for being so.

I realise. That if you don’t get the window seat, the chances of the one that did get it, wanting to get to the loo will be high! Almost as soon as the seat belt sign is switched off. You almost think, that the seat belt was the cause.

I realise. People can think no end of their cleverness! Like the gent who just refused to shut down his phone. ‘This is an important call’ he said. Sure pal. The rest of us are traveling in aid of the airline industry ! I realise that i sometimes rue my not having pursued some martial art technique or the other. Preferably something in the vicinity of 'Gaze Kill' !

I realise that nobody pays attention to airline safety demonstrations ! And of course, airline safety demonstrations are so vapid that they give vapid a bad name !

How about something like the air-hostess announcing “as soon as I am done with my demonstration, three random passengers could be asked to do the demo as a surprise test. If you fail, you would travel in the cargo compartment !"

I realise that air-hostesses and their names are getting my interest. With names like ‘Honey’, ‘Ruby’, ‘Pretty’, ‘Sweety’… well, first name basis seems to be one heck of an interesting arena !! When all of them are in the same flight, that could be providence doing a sun dance. Flights of fancy. Of course!

The lady sitting next to me, is getting restless now. So am i. This post has been thoroughly supervised by her ! Not that I am new to supervision per se.

Especially, when I have been married to her for a while.

Ah, that's one more realisation ! Or perhaps admission ! Heights, you see. heights !

Realisations at 30000 feet !

Loud and clear

Malls are sporting colour. New colour. In fact, new Tri-colour. There are special discounts that are on. “The independence day sale”, they scream. Of course, they end on Aug 15^th. On the day the British foot left India, store owners are are counting footfalls in our malls ! In the name of the British foot that left India sixty odd years back.

Your phone keeps beeping with messages. Wishing you a happy independence day. For a minute you wonder what you should be doing. Send a message back with 'wish you the same' typed in. Or what ?!?

Sometimes these texts are messages to the effect of ‘Feel proud’! ( that 36 % of NASA scientists are Indians and such other random numbers. 33 % , 40 %, 20 %, 17.3 % etc are creating magic as Taxi Cab drivers in NY, software developers in Microsoft / Intel / Others, hair dressers in abu dhabi ! etc etc !). [Of course, the rest of us back here are either writing on blogs or swatting mosquitoes !]

You see the man who spouts parochial politics with a casteist tinge is invited to hoist the flag somewhere. He doesn't hoist it of course. He just makes a pretense of touching the rope and there are a few others who will do the rest for him! Of course, giving a speech.

Some of the words that you would definitely hear today in those speeches : India, 63 ( or 64). Patriotic. Jawans. Brave. Forefathers. Destiny. Terrorism. Unity. Shining. ‘our country’. Future. Superpower. Jai Hind.

Every TV channel worth its satellite dish, is usurping independence with “Live and exclusive” taped on every show. Video jockeys wearing tricolour buttons on their chest while introducing film songs that would want you to beat your chest in sorrow !

There is a celebrity cast in the news channels. Who are debating what we have achieved in all the years as a free country. Silly contrived and meaningless arguments. Most of the loud mouths there make you wonder if they should be locked up somewhere !

Children at home are mega upset that this years independence day has landed up on a weekend. So are you. A Friday or a Monday, would have meant a long weekend! Newspapers carry pictures of Gandhi, Nehru, Mountabatten and such others. There are columns about our years as a free country. Nehru's speech is recalled.

Its that time of the year. When the tricolour becomes important. A speech is ever pertinent. A moment of silence, and then, ‘patriotic’songs unleashed on a ever so suspecting (expecting ) population.

As you sit and look into the blue skies. There is activity spinning all around you. The local eatery remains open. The milk man runs around. The domestic help turns up sharp on time. As usual. Life doesn't change for the majority.

Back at the festivity zone, there is an accented Vande Mataram that pierces the i-day air ! The tricolour seems to stay still. As the voice becomes loud. Clear. Deep. With a heavy accent. But you wonder if there was more to it than just an accent, when its sung as ... "One-Day Mataram" !!

Loud and clear

The village tap

Picture an evening in a dusty village. With dusty roads, cows and languid walks. Not to forget the the local tea stall with its share of newspapers and ofcourse..tea.

In a corner picture cows coming home after tilling the land. With farmers and their wards, returning to thatched huts that sprout cable TV.

The local radio playing. The odd bicycle plying. The village girls and boys running home from the municipal school in reckless abandon. Unmindful of dust or dreariness !

Picture mud walls with posters on them. Announcing the latest arrival of the star studded movie. The stars have to bite mud !

Old village grandmas sitting on the steps to their homes. Grating tobacco and chatting incessantly.

Well, you wonder, how long has it been since you visited an Indian village ?

And in a corner, you notice a tap. A tap which seems to have gone silent for a while. You try and yank the tap alive. It hisses like an inebriated cobra but comes to life. Sputtters and coughs, but then spews some water. Clean water. Hopefully, there will be some flow.


Ah ! To comeback !

The village tap