The aircraft has been badly tossed in the air several times.
This is not the first time experience for me, but this one was really frightening.
Once it entered the Keralam's airspace, the turbulence was unusually high. For
a moment, I wanted to get down from the plane as soon as possible. I wonder how
the jet setting executives fly across the world so frequently. It is hard.
Whenever the plane gets into turbulence I become so restless. This is the part
of the air travel I love to hate. The thrill in air travel is only for the first
time or the second, after that, I do not think it entertains anyone
This time I was on my way to my
home in Keralam. The journey started from Pondicherry by bus to Chennai.
Pondicherry has an airport and it has a few flights to Bangalore operated by Spice
Jet at present. The bus journey from Pondicherry normally takes around three
and half hours. There are a number of buses operated by Tamil Nadu road
Transport corporation and Pondicherry RTC. Every other minute, one bus from the
bus stand starts to Chennai and an equal number of buses from Chennai to Pondi.
These buses are very ordinary ones that offer no comforts. In all probability,
the knees may hit the front seat if the person is a little taller than the
normal ones. The price of journey is just Ninety two rupees for a distance of
around 150 KM. A taxi may cost around Rs 3500 to cover this distance that include toll gate charges and entry permit. There are two big roads between Chennai and Pondicherry - One is
the NH45 and the other the East Coast Road. Both the roads are very busy always
and the distance covered is almost equal. It is a specialty – there are two big
roads connecting two cities. It is rare to see such a feature in our country.
 |
| At Chennai domestic airport |
There were two or three celebrities from
Malayalam film field in the plane. They were spotted at the Chennai airport unnoticed
by none. The other day, singer K S Chitra was spotted at Chennai airport.
No one was even recognising her. She quietly went in and sat in the business
class of the Dubai bound aircraft, in which I too was a passenger. The
celebrities stood at the lounge for a while and then moved a little far
and sat there. Till they reached Kochi airport, no one recognised them. I
wanted to say a hello to them when we sat together in the bus that carried all
of us from the airport lounge to the aircraft, but was worried about their
response. Once they landed at Kochi, they suddenly disappeared in high end
sedans.
I waited for the i20 to turn up. That was
a journey to join the one and all who suffered a big loss at the hands of the
destiny twenty three years back. That was a Monday, the day on which our
father departed all of us. In the past twenty three years, I could not
attend the anniversary rituals several times. The other half of the
departed soul who took the direct hit in the calamity never failed to
arrange the rituals precisely on the anniversary day. That is the beauty of a
married life. Where ever we are, one person is there, thinking of us. She calls
and enquires if he had breakfast, then lunch and then dinner when he is away
from home. She thinks of him all the time. I shall quickly add a disclaimer
here. This is the general case but, for those who beg to differ I should
say, there are exceptions.
The five children he left behind
had found some foot holds as the time passed by. There were four marriages, six
births and a death in the family since he left - an eventful period
indeed. Now, looking back at all these events, I realise with a tremor in the
bottom of the heart, the gravity of the disaster that struck on that day.
The house he constructed is still standing at its place, though it looks
so old and worn out. The temple at which he spent most of the time along with
his acquaintances, post Visakhapatnam life, got a face lift and is more
lively now. The paddy fields in which he too toiled to see some rice grains in
the little granary in the house, wears a deserted look now. It is filled with
salt water from back waters. No body is interested to cultivate, mainly because
of the high labour costs. The second reason is the money flowing from outside
the state. Everything can be bought from the market with the money, then why
toil in the fields? The wooden granary is still there in our house, filled with
just darkness. Perhaps, hundreds of cockroaches are happily living in that now.
This granary did have full of rice grains once upon a time. Several times, I got into the dark chambers of the granary to collect rice grains. The grains then boiled in water, dried in the sun and then removed the husk manually by Meenakshiyamma and the aunty who lived in our neighbourhood. The solid wooden poles, that are called "ulakka" in Malayalam go up and down a big groove in a cylindrical shapped stone called "ural" several times. It takes a lot of efforts to remove the husk. The end product is brown coloured rice grains that we all used to cook. No more urals or ulakkas in the 21st century. The ural is still lying in some corner at our home but not the ulakkas. They are not even kept as a relic from a glorious, humble and sweet past.
Time and tides, as the philosophy
exhorts, wait for none. Time heals many a wound. Life moves on with or without
persons. That is how the dynamism works out. Let us all find solace in the
verse from Bhagavatgita :
vasamsi jirnani yatha vihaya
navani grhnati naro 'parani
tatha sarirani vihaya jirnany
anyani samyati navani dehi
"As a person puts on new garments, giving
up old ones, similarly, the soul accepts new material bodies, giving up the old
and useless ones. "
After the rituals, the rice balls were offered to the one and all who departed us. They were represented by the crows. A few crows swooped down on the rice balls and within a few minutes, emptied the place. The forefathers and mothers were believed to have returned happily after the "feast". Every living ones dispersed in a hurry only to assemble for repetition of the same rituals an year later. Where is time to go beyond rituals? I marvel at myself, at times, that I could find some time for others too. In the nuclear family, it is really difficult to look beyond the boundaries of my spouse, my children and me concept...
After the rituals, the rice balls were offered to the one and all who departed us. They were represented by the crows. A few crows swooped down on the rice balls and within a few minutes, emptied the place. The forefathers and mothers were believed to have returned happily after the "feast". Every living ones dispersed in a hurry only to assemble for repetition of the same rituals an year later. Where is time to go beyond rituals? I marvel at myself, at times, that I could find some time for others too. In the nuclear family, it is really difficult to look beyond the boundaries of my spouse, my children and me concept...
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