My Chamku Valentine

i've never been a big fan of all the "i'll-buy-you-a-card-and-forget-you-for-the-rest-of-the-year" days but this one was special in its being extraordinarily ordinary. too many oxymorons in that one eh ? but probably mixing chamku with valentine is probably the biggest one! Probably i wouldnt have imagined it this way till about a week or so back ... imagining myself to be in Mumbai on a Saturday, probably spending some lazy time on Carter Rd (which used to be my fav place back then in 2009, having just moved to the city of dreams). But, here i was, in Raipur, having completed a discussion with a truck fleet owner over freight tariffs, and having called my household after a realllly looong time from the godown phoneline, (all thanks to Idea, who disconnected my old Gujarat no sometime on Wednesday morning even though i was well within my credit limit and had not exceeded the pay-by date) heading back after having spent a week in the Chhattisgarh capital. The cab came just about in time, the hotel staff (who apparently had been running this hotel for the last couple of years without any capital infusion as the owner was one of the prime accused in the Jessica Lal murder case)  took just that little bit longer to settle the bills and i think there was even a delay at a level railway crossing in between. My anxiousness was a little eased when we completed the remaining city stretch quickly and headed onto the highway. And shortly after we turned right into the final stretch of the tree (and there were lots and lots of those ... and looked like the kind of trees that would yield furniture grade timber) lined road which led to the airport. You could tell CG is a naxal infested state as there were bunkers by CRPF at several junctions on that road. Anyhow, i reached the airport, checked in at the counter decked up with heart shaped balloons, was denied security check by a rude female CISF constable, and made to wait as Rajnath Singh was also boarding a flight with his cronies. Imagine watching the powerless president of a political party on the decline, whose entire campaign for the upcoming elections was built around one man, (something that they borrowed from their main rivals i guess) moving around with an air of self importance fuelled by his entourage, as you are held up. This was, after all, Raman Singh's turf and finally i got through security and made to wait as they were boarding only the first 10 rows. I should have understood what that would mean but alas i was too busy reading Gladwell. It was a frigging turbo prop with the luggage compartment so small that i had a hard time stuffing my bag into the bin and fending off the air hostess who was trying to convince me to put that in the cargo hold. (Normally i wouldn't cross a lovely looking lady but this was a Calcutta-Raipur-Indore-Ahmedabad hopper flight and i had to change at Indore in a very short period) Now my travel agent also has a sense of humuor. I had arrived in an Indian Airlines flight, and was leaving on Valentine's day in a Kingfisher airline, but very shortly afterward would switch planes and board a Kingfisher Red, the erstwhile Deccan :X  Even by my pathetic standards, i felt i had lowered my chances of getting struck by Cupid ... or for that matter, anything good coming out of the day. And my fears started to come true as the portly man clad in a knit driving cap and refusing to switch off his cell phone even after repeated requests by the stewards, (the kind of people you are likely to encounter in NCR golf courses speaking their version of Punjabi-ised English. This one though was a Gult which i deciphered because the airline's policy of addressing passengers by their last name instead of sir.) started feeling unwell shortly after take off.
But somethings happen when least expected and leave a strong impression on us. This was one such moment where instead of getting frustrated or annoyed, the lead cabin crew, Ms Shefa (yep, i still remember her name) actually pulled out no stops to ensure this man felt better. Pillows, special fruit salad and juices, even an offer to switch seats. I mean she would have had to bear grumpy passengers, misfit hand baggages, delayed take-offs, possibly traffic jams as well and yet she had so much willingness to do whatever possible to help an absolute stranger. Wouldnt she too have wished to be somewhere with her beau ? (i know there would have been one because of the huge rock i saw on her ring finger). And in the shame of realising my selfishness, i turned to look outside the window and saw one of the most beautiful sunsets ever ! High above the dusty city was a sky so blue with a slight cloud lining which only served the purpose of adding a deeper tinge of rouge to the red horizon by reflecting the dying sun's rays. And whatever annoyance i was feeling and would have felt at Indore when i was asked to go out of the airport and re-enter from the departures gate as the connecting passage for transit travellers was closed because of renovation work, vanished. If anything, it only made me see the funny side of getting in with a hard printed boarding pass instead of a ticket :) There are few things worse than self pity .. but sadly, sometimes, that is the best cure for some wounds that have been reopened ... few places as disturbing as an abode you cannot call your home, yet sometimes those are the best places to find and redefine yourself .... few days that will taunt you of things past and future, and yet bring out your best in the days in between. And yet, there are days when you take away the reason for those taunts, places that are home away from home, and feelings that let you indulge yourself and indulge with the world at the same time. And in my case, all six, and probably more, came together on 14.02.2009.
A day when i was dressed up the way Bobby Deol did for most of the part in his movie Chamku - black shirt, blue jeans.

you'll never know

you'll never know what is unsaid ... you'll never know what it means when it is said ... you'll never know why it was supposed to be what it meant ... i guess i'll never know what that look implied ... never know what went on when i sat there watching it all happen .... i guess i'll never know what that smile meant ... guess i'll never know why the page is still blank ... probably i'll never ask and if asked, will never be told.
and guess what, i'll never say things that should have been said ... will never probably be asked things that are only seen and guess i'll never smile again. so waddya get to know ?