(I wrote this at the airport before departure; I am reproducing this piece, without editing or changing the tense and sequence. I had thought I would get time in Mumbai to post it, but it was quite hectic and jam-packed, hence, could not…)

I am waiting at the airport writing this post; by the time it reaches you, I would be in Mumbai, sucked irrevocably in a slush of meetings.

Hell, I always get the timing wrong- the last time I was stuck at a lengthy immigration counter, and caught the plane nearly the sameway as one catches a DTC bus at rush hours! This time, chastened, I have reached airport earlier; lo, it’s absolutely empty- had my coffee, loitered at the duty free, done my immigration, over with the security check…and still have some one hour to spare. The sequential number on my boarding pass wickedly grins that I was the first to check in.

I love traveling; but I hate packing. It has been a bane with me right from the start, and I always end up missing a vital piece everytime. I am also amazed at the abilities of some to carry miniature bags and then see them wearing business suits and heavy woolens- how did they manage to stuff them in that bonsai of a bag? I am convinced, packing is an art too, and I am no Picasso there! I am getting this queasy feeling that I have packed a blue suit, but am possibly carrying only brown socks! Shucks!

Those of who have been following the blog for the past three months regularly would know the amount of traveling that I have done- so much so, I can almost feel wings on my shoulders… and because of this, would also understand that packing this way has assumed epic epidemic proportions for me!

Though going to India, I am certainly not looking towards this trip.

Three strong reasons are: a) The itinerary mailed is way too ambitious for the short two days b) it’s a business review meet- and you all know what that means! c) The travel agent has done a major goof up on my return ticket- so will have to run around and blow off my head in front of a few to get it corrected.

A horrendously egregious voice is making some announcement at this moment in a language that I can vaguely recognize as being English once upon time- it is not even a Nepali accent…it is a Nepali trying to give an American accent in English! What a combination! And the voice? Has Sapna Awasthi actually jumped into her kuan and started making airport announcements?

The crowd is trickling in- but that is because there are three flights almost back to back for departure in the next couple of hours. Dan Brown would be pleased to see the crowd- at least five different passengers, from various backgrounds and colors, are reading Da Vinci Code. As for me, well, IBM…are you listening?

Well, there is a motely bunch of passengers in various sizes, shapes and stages of boredom here…a bald man is rapidly firing away at his dull looking wife, who seems to be in a chronic state of hair disorder; a grouchy chinky is reading Dalai Lama’s Art of Happiness- hope it does him good, its an art that he definitely requires seeing his sad face; a bearded Frenchie is chewing away at his gum (Americanised, eh?) with such vigor as if gums will be extinct tomorrow; an Indian lady shoves her way through the security guard thinking the plane would possibly leave without her (never mind, it has not even arrived as yet), and the hapless guard and her husband follow her meekly; and…YIPES….sorry to frighten you sweeties, but a local lady has started breast feeding her baby- a live Ram Teri Ganga Maili show? And, the expression on her face is not dissimilar to the blankness of Mandakini. Ok, relax you perverts, she is otherwise quite discreet, and nothing is…er…ahem… ‘seen‘ that way!

Anyways, got to go now; if the chinky sitting next to me is going to yawn every half a minute, wish he had brushed his teeth as well.

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