My uncanny flight experience

So, I sat next to this glamorous sweet middle-aged lady apparently busy with her cute pc. It was cute because it was pink, baby pink and that’s my favourite colour. The lady was glamorous because she had an unspoken elegance, a subtle beauty, an elegant expression. No, she wasn’t the beat-up coquettish haul in that rocking attire. She was simple. And that unique simplicity made her glamorous to me.

I was just fourteen then and was quite busy with my new smartphone surfing Quora. To be honest, I hate traveling because I’m such a lazy introvert, but forget to stand your chance against parents, I can’t even exercise a small wish. You are gonna be dragged in. EVERYWHERE.

I hardly ever talk to travelers because, to me, it’s ok only for those who have no job to do, no innovative ideas to pen down, other than busily interacting with the humans around them.

So, I sat quietly, of course, everyone sits quietly, but I’m a bizarre type of quiet. And so was my companion, and that’s what attracted my attention towards her.

An important reason was that she, to me, was a mystery to be solved. Not many Indian ladies can be seen seated in a flight sans their hubbies or kids. And the lady was single and yet married as she had the bindi on.

Something uncanny, I thought to myself. Being an ardent Sherlock Holmes fan, I wouldn’t allow any mystery to escape my clutches, and to be frank, I did expect the flight to be as adventurous as Frank and Joe’s.

Perhaps, I do have a craze for mystery and adventure but in a lazy sense.

But, to my utter depression, not a leaf turned.

I could see her typing an endless stream of words just as I’m doing right now. I guess she was a blogger.

I immediately knew friendship with her would be quite much of a use for I too intended to discover the secrets of blogging. So, I started staring at her screen to seek her attention. As she didn’t give any, I spoke up- Ma’am, what’s the niche of your blog? I had, back then, recently learnt some cool words.

She replied in my accent though I it wasn’t hers as I came to know later- Fashion.

Me- Ooh, that’s pretty trendy.

She- Yeah.

Never in my life had I met a lady who spoke less than I did. Now I started feeling a greater need to solve the mystery. But first I had to get her to speaking.

Me- Are you into affiliate marketing?

She- Yeah, but we primarily direct our customers to our YouTube channel.

So, I knew they were a team due to the usage of the word ‘we’.

Me- Name, please? I’m kinda fascinated by this stuff, like all youngsters are, you know.

She told the name and I picked out a video the title of which fascinated me and started watching it without plugging in the earphones. Unfortunately for me, it was a man’s styling video, so I had to revert to go back to another video, but then I paused. The man too was Indian, so I assumed he was her hubby.

And so I scrolled down and arrived at the women’s playlist. I stated watching a hairstyle video. A girl my age was teaching how to make a french pony. I assumed she was a worker in their company or whatever.

And then came the most dreaded message of the day, the one I dread even more than mum’s daily motivational WhatsApp message. Uh, the ‘you’ve reached the limit of your daily net consumption….”

I didn’t have a proxy so I always dreaded using public wifi, and so I borrowed her hotspot. She said she would show me the video instead which was downloaded on her phone I trust persons more than the public in general.

Strangely, she had it in her purse. Well, not strangely, but I guess every mobileaholic keeps their phone handy and not in a purse.

You know I’m a better gazer than those street side shameless stalkers. And I gazed at her purse. But my gazing paid off. I saw two pics there, of a girl and of a dress (one of my dream dresses). The girl in the pic resembled the girl in the video. So, I knew she must be her daughter.

By then we had become quite a bit comfy with each other and I was interested in building a connection with her ’cause I could need her in future for my blog.

Me- So, she’s your daughter?

A strange silence that exceeded 10 seconds.

She- Yesss.

Me- Oh, she’s so beautiful.

She- Yea, you too are.

I don’t like backhanded compliments, but I liked this one because it was spoken while casting a tear.

I guessed she was missing her daughter.and she had come to London to drop her at a uni.

Me- So, she’s in the UK?

She- Well, no.

I guess she knew that my next question would be- Then? And so she tried to act distracted.

I decided not to ask her further, but it was too tempting as I never saw a lady with the pic of a dress in her purse.

So, I thought it would be ok if I asked her about the dress instead.

Me- Did you design this dress?

She- No, it’s my daughter’s favourite dress.

Me- Oh, mine too.

She- Really?

I didn’t understand why she asked me that but it was enough to make me smile.

Me- Yeah, I had asked my mum to get it for me but it’s too expensive. I had hoped we would be able to go window shopping at Harrods but the sale wasn’t on So, my mum said we might arrange for it the next time.

(The truth was that my mum had completely refused to buy the dress, but it’s not nice to act so desperate for a dress, so I put in the last line myself.)

Meanwhile she turned on the video and I plugged in my earphones. After I finished it, she spoke up- Where are you headed to?

Me- Of course Delhi and then we will take a cab to Aligarh, Uttar Pradesh (an Indian city)

She- Oh, I’m from Agra.

(So, finally she was frank!)

Me- But you seem to be a Bengali.

She- This is my in-laws place, actually.

Me- Oh ok ok. Nice to meet you, Ma’am.

She- Nice to meet you too.

Meanwhile my mum was watching me talk like a grown-up lady! So, she came to us.

Mum to the lady- Jai Shree Krishna!

Lady to Mum- Jai Shree Krishna!

I told mum she was a blogger.

Mum- Oh, nice to know. Chetanya too is very much interested in the same and few people possess this expertise.

Lady- Oh, I can guide her with the initials.

So, she started spiling out about blogging, and then she opened up her purse again for a pamphlet of their business and handed it over to mum (for advertising). As she was opening the purse, I blinked to my mum, and we both saw the pic of the dress and the girl.

The lady sensed this and spoke up herself- Well, she’s my daughter, and this is her favourite dress.

Then she suddenly got teary-eyed, something I had never imagined would occur.

Me- Oh, sorry, Ma’am. Really sorry for the discomfort.

She did nothing but stare at the photo with her pupil dilating constantly.

We understood half the mystery.

Finally, my mum pacified her, and mum being an extremely social lady, was able to pacify her really well.

And then the conversation began and it lasted all through the flight.

She told us how her daughter had met a car accident, how wearing the dress was her last wish, how she had come to London to buy the dress though she was no more, how her husband had forbid her from doing so.

Some more general talks and we reached the end of our convo with the end of the flight. As I dispersed with my parents after the check-in at the cabin, she held me back, gave me a bundle and told me to fly off. I didn’t carry the bundle but she somehow compelled me. Before I could thank her, she was gone, gone into the blues of the horizon.

We opened up the pack at the end of the day. The dress and a make-up box. I knew I would get the dress some day, when I would earn my money and pay my bills. And then I would dress up in it at a club.

But I never knew I would get the dress in this kind way. And be unable to dress up in it though it’s with me. And yet be happy, gazing.

You know I’m a good gazer, with the newly sprouted third eye in my forehead, after all.