A day to write about.

All I wanted to do was to bury myself deeper into the mattress, cover myself tighter with the blanket and never, ever let the morning light desecrate this land of sacred sleep. What I instead did was, I let the alarm wake me up, I put my feet on the cold ,cold marble and tiptoed my way to the sink.  In 30 minutes flat, I was staring at a face in the mirror, holding a comb impossibly tangled in a mess of hair.  In another 10 minutes flat, I was trying to connect to the wifi in my ola prime on the way to the airport, All the while, making polite conversation with the driver, so that he doesn’t molest or murder me.

The sentiments get strengthened when he asks me if he can switch the app off. So, that he doesn’t have to pay OLA its rightful commissions. I asked him to keep it running and told him I would pay the commission that he needs to pay to ola, over and above my fare. That’s how it all started. The emptying of purse mania.

The minute I enter the airport, it’s like everyone is stranded. I don’t understand.  I try to wait in line for two minutes, try to be good, and try to get my baggage checked in. But, no.  Greater things were written for me. I instead, paid to get in front of the line and to get my bag tagged with “fast forward” tag so that it’s the first to go in, last to come out.  Later, I go the security check. It’s a huge line again. This time, they didn’t have a fast forward option. I waited. I got checked, I was clear.

First things first, I got coffee, Two espresso shots, Two very expensive espresso shots that got a good tour of the airport for the next one hour. I reach the gate and I am greeted by whistling air through empty seats and a nice lady smiling at me. Oh well hello, hi. Flight, please, I say. She smiles and asks me to go be adult.  The flight gates were closed. I haven’t heard anything so crushing in my life ever. They should probably figure out a better way of putting it across. It hurts.  If we cannot call the physically challenged, disabled. We shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of negativity in life.

I ask, “So, what now?”

She says she can put me in the next flight. Yes, that was chargeable.  Yes, it meant my stipend for the month was going away from one multinational company to another multinational company. The vicious circle.

I go through the entire shebang again, spilling coffee on my shirt and proudly wearing the scars. Finally, I reach the gate and this time too, I was met with the same whistling air. Only, I was too early. I can live with that. I paced around, I was too coffeed to sit. I posted a rant on facebook. I made calls and I judged a curly haired girl for having an accent.  Life was good again. Hyper but good.

I get on the flight. It felt like a dream as it took off, the grey monsoon cloudscape was the most beautiful thing ever. I wanted to be in air forever. I also somehow got the window seat. I know, crazy eh ?

Ello, turbulence. It ‘s monsoons, what was I expecting?  But, the entire bad-ness of the day kicked in then and I thought if everything that happened before this was a sign, asking me to not board the flight. Did I fight the fate?  Have I angered the lucky gods smiling down on me? And then, in a very eerily certain way, I knew I was going to die because of turbulence. I was hoping they could identify me. I was hoping they could recover the jewelry on me and return it to people who wanted to.  I was playing out my very sad funeral in my head and I fell asleep without warning.

Next thing I know, I am walking in the aerobridge towards belt number 5, waiting to claim by bag tagged “ fast forward”. It stuck to its promise. It was the first to come out of the plane. I was relieved. I grabbed it and rushed out. I googled my hotel. It was 36 km away. I had 1000 in my purse. I knew I was going to spend it all on the taxi. I resigned myself to the lucky gods smiling down on me and got into a taxi. I was at the hotel. I was in the room. I was using wifi and my window on the 7th floor had a pretty misty view in the mornings.

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