I stared out of my window to look at what I could see outside. The sky was clear, a darker than usual blue. It was a desolate place. And I seemed to be inching along the surface of the earth, which was far below. “Damn!”
I had not seen home in 3months. At that moment in time, I recalled that crazy moment in which I had made the decision to get back home for the weekend. The night before had been sleepless, and the week in office slow and boring. (Frankly February 2010 has been the slowest month among all I have spent in my entire life.) After an early morning ride to the airport, and a security check, had been allowed inside the aircraft. Fifteen minutes later, the jets had been fired up and the aircraft was almost stationary at the start of the runway. It would have looked like a sprinter ready for the 100meters ahead of him. Fingers barely touching the ground, the left leg in its toes for support, and the right foot firmly on the ground – as if the energy for the sprint was being derived from the earth. And then the restraint was released. The jets thrust the aircraft forward, forced a smile on my face, and pushed me back to my seat. (I wonder why we need seatbelts.) And within no time, it soared, mocking the gravity of the earth.
It kept on rising higher, till I could see the highway and the stationary vehicles on it. Till I could see the earth blurred by the haze. Till I could see, the soft blanket of clouds stretching out into the horizon, and finally till a point where I was floating in the vast ocean that envelopes the earth and protects it. The few clouds that I could spot were like distant islands that were meant to be explored.
I looked out of the window with the joy a kid feels. I looked down on the green brown patches. At dried up river beds, and the black strips of highways. I wondered, whether, I could race at some of those places or probably just ride till there for the heck of it. I must have been halfway through to home by this point in time.
Still, there was something that I had missed. I pondered on it for a while, and dug up a few memories of going back home. The happiness of going back home was not as rich as it had been the previous times. And finally I found the reason that might have diluted the happiness. When you travel in a bus or a train, you are moving slowly towards the destination. It allows time for the whirlwind of emotions to settle down. It’s always fun to wave goodbye to a city hanging out from the door of the train (which you cannot do in a flight). Nor can your relatives come to see you off and cry on the runway (which they can on a platform).
When I used to come home from Mumbai, I used to enjoy the moment when the train used to pass through Kurla. The train rushed past a wall of people, which used to make me feel that all that there was in the city was insignificant for the moment and all that mattered was the journey back home. But, none of these came close to what I felt when the train used to pull slowly towards Nagpur. The railway crossing announcing the proximity of Nagpur. The stadium welcoming you. And finally the sleepy roads just waking up to the soft coaxing of the morning sun. All this was something I was not able to see, feel, relish.
My chain of thought was broken by the captain’s announcement – “Ladies and Gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts. We will be beginning our descent to land at Nagpur”. And after a few gut twisting turns, I was back on the ground. The warm wind hit my face playfully and welcomed me back home. I had arrived, in time for my short stay at home and I was not complaining.
I had missed the slow simmering emotions that take over when I travelled by slowed modes, but then I was where I wanted to be. Probably, this time, the destination was more important than the journey. And I happily hopped into my car with my brother and father, happy to be home. I was wrong - the happiness was not diluted.
