travelblog

Tai chi was never popular in India, not since the Chinese
invaded, but it looks like the lone figure at the runway’s end
is doing just that. Somebody who only learnt one move, and is
frozen for all eternity, trying to reach perfection in that
beginner’s move. One move. Maybe he looks a little like a
dancing shiva. But the figure is an over weight white male in
late middle age. Unshaven, bent double as if beneath a
crushing weight, he balances on one foot. It makes sense,
because like a spinning top he is ready to fall in any
direction and escape if danger should arise. Harry Ram is
hard at work in presence.

The sky is the colour of chocolate, viewed through the starry
perspex of the airplane window. It’s strange that India has
stayed beside him on the night’s long flight. Alonso de
Freitas, an Indian of below average height and above average
fairness of skin blinks through his tiredness and myopia and
wonders where the desert is. Sadly, he knows that he is
looking at the familiar sky of India, scorched cotton wool,
still and unmoving. Another blink and remembers why he is in
the cabin of this passenger jet. He looks around the silent
cabin, catches the eye of the blonde stewardess standing
beside him, maybe she woke him, and he smiles at her. Holding
his once famous smile for a long moment he collects his
thoughts, and listens to the roar of the engines emerge from
the silence of his nightmare. Peripheral vision expands to
take in the row of seats to his left, and the other expensive
passengers. Then he looks back out the window. At a sky full
of dirt. He turns to the stewardess.
” What’s happened to Dubai. It should be clean out there. ”
” The engines’ pollution control system has malfunctioned
and we cannot overfly the Gulf. ”
” The engines are making all that …” The word smog never
seems appropriate, it’s too much like calling a air crash an
‘accident’.
” We will soon be landing at Delhi, sir. ”
” No problems getting clearance there. ”
” We have to land somewhere, sir. ” She says drily. ” Can I
get you a drink ?”
” No thanks. ” Alonso looks around and absorbs more of the
scene in the cabin of the 747. Making him think of a Buddhist
monastery he visited in Nepal, long time ago. In the rows of
seats similarly clad businessmen sit stiffly, and their lips
tremble soundlessly. They all wear a type of eyeglazing which
puts them in presence. Divorced from their surroundings, most
of them are working, paying Deccan
an extortionate price to sit at their desks. Why not enjoy the
attention of this woman. Everybody has business to attend to.
He must be the only one with a bare face in a cabin full of
full of contented babies. The phone rings and he looks at it
like it’s popped of the screen from an old movie. The
stewardess gestures at the phone, then picks it up and
answers for him when he nods slightly. After a moment, she
mutes the phone and says, ” Simi Gupta calling from the
airport. ” He is surprised to discover it’s Simi. She should
be waiting in presence. Nearby, but not too close, in that
place where he tries to keep them all.
” I’ll take the call,” he says, ” Thank you. ” The stewardess
smiles frostily and turns away.
” So you couldn’t keep away ? ” Simi’s low, excited voice in
his ear.
” There’s a problem with the jet. How did you know they’ve
turned this bucket of bolts back. ”
” Singh. ”
” Huh. You’re still at the airport. ”
” I’ll be there before you. We don’t want you to be mobbed
by the press.”


” Nobody pays any attention to little me. I haven’t been
disturbed on the flight.”


” That’s because you’re in first class and everybody is
working
furiously in presence. ” He looks around and confirms this.


” I have some work to do myself. ”


” You need to consider your position for the meeting. ”


” Of course you’re right. ”


” I’ll see you at the airport. ”


” I heard. Don’t you have any work to do ? ” He smiles. ” You
know where I’ll be. ” she says, and hangs up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simi leaves her office, and takes the elevator to the ground
floor. Walking through the tall domed atrium she steps
through the revolving door onto the street. And starts
walking.

The street outside is crowded , and not simply by shoppers,
anyone who can get into the centre does so. Maybe because it
is easy to breathe here. The exhausts from the massive Deccan
building clear the air around Connaught Place, making an
oasis in the centre of Delhi’s smog. She thinks the entire
population of the city would like to move into this patch,
but of course there’s security. It’s still crowded.
When she knows she is reaching her destination she speds up
slightly and steps into a doorway. She wants to do some
shopping before she heads out to the airport.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simi gets a ride to the airport in Alonso’s helicopter. The
pilot likes her so he was more than willing to return from
the airport and pick her up. When they get there, she give
sthe pilot the slip and decides to wait in the dingy
restaurant.

Then she notices a stir in the airport. Everbody is talking
about a crash.
She pushes her way through the crowds and look at the
arrivals board. His flight has changed to arrived. She goes
to a desk. There’s chaos. She walks behind the check in
counters and enters a small office. ” The airport is still
open ?” She asks a man shuffling an unravelling pack of
computer printout.

” No of course not all flights are
diverted. ” He does not resent her interruption.
” What happened to SA210 ? ”

” That’s not funny miss, it’s still burning on the runway.”
” I have to call my boss. ” She
announces flatly, reaching for the phone on the desk.
The plane. Is coming in to land, surprisingly. It hits the
runway and bumps around more than usual. Alonso feels the
port wing take a dive toward the runway when a single landing
gear
touches down. He knows that someone on the ground would see
the
plane hold this position, a single wheel on the
concrete rushing forward, frozen but managing to convey a
sense that it could tumble any moment. It’s like a toy plane
in a travel agents office.
The moment stretches out until the pilot masterfully rotates
the
plane and brings the other wheels into contact with the
ground.
The plane bounces once and is on the ground.
Aboard the plane it seems to take much longer. Alonso looks
quickly out of the window, for emergency vehicles and burning
wreckage. There is nothing out of the ordinary. He wonders
what
Simi was about when she told him there was a crash. He looks
around the plane. There is a burst of activity as
everyone pops back into the plane and begins to gather
luggage. He sees a man folding his newspaper, and for a
moment the headline seems to say air disaster, but the paper
is
shoved into a briefcase before he can be sure. He looks back
and
sees a young man in the seat across the aisle from him
consign a pocket calculator and notepad to a large
briefcase open on his knees. The pad and calculator are
pushed inside and the young man takes out a newspaper,
Alonso can just read the headline, New Drought Threat, before
the youngman closes the briefcase and squeezes it down to
floor level.
Another newspaper.
He looks across at Alonso as he does so. There is a flicker
of
recognition and he smiles behind his heavy rimmed glasses. He
knows that Alonso owns a major business, while he is a
marginal
passenger on this flight, spomeone who managed to bribe his
way
onto the plane after a lengthy wait at the a irport. Alonso
is
here by right. It is surprising that he is travelling on this
airline at all, but the young man trusts that there must be a
good reason. Alonso looks at the young man, saying nothing,
expressionless, and the young man thinks this is a good
opportunity to introduce himself. He says ” We are very
late. ”
Alonso nods and looks away, unfamiliar with face to face
contact.
Let him think you have more important questions to deal with.
Let him think that you are sitting here while taking part in
some
distant exchange of information . Let him think whatever he
likes. The young man takes the hint and picks up the
newspaper.
Alonso catches the newspaper headline.
It has changed to ‘ Air crash incident at Delhi.’ Alonso
quickly smiles and asks for the newspaper. The young man
folds the paper and hands it to him rightaway.
The plane hurtles down the runway.
Alonso unfolds the newspaper and reads some speculation
about a
forthcoming drought. He must have been mistaken.
He hands the paper back to the man, who has been watching
him the
whole time.
” Thanks.” The plane rumbles toward the terminal, and Alonso
sees
his Sikorsky helicopter perched on a pier of the
terminal. It looks like it must be the pier where he will
disembark.
Behind the helicopter, a passenger jet climbs over the roof
of
the terminal.
Alonso hears the jet and turns to look over his shoulder. His
heart races as he watches its bulk approach. He regards the
relentlessly hardening structure of the jet with
indifference and
thinks ” Once upon a time this would have upset me.” The
plane
may overfly them, but it is now low enough to read the hand
painted warnings on top of the wings. ” No step. ” he reads,
a
prophetic phrase, and the plane heads directly for him. The
roof
buckles as the body of the plane passes a few feet above.
Then
the wheels of the jet impact the cabin.
The roof descends like an executioner’s blessing. Bent
double he begins a tumble that will end on the tarmac below.
The
fall will kill him. Otherwise this is just like the air
combat
video games. No s*********
postcrsh








Image via Wikipedia