An Airport Layover

Airport layovers are some of my most dreaded experiences. Given that I travel very often on official assignments and occasionally on personal vacations, I have had to encounter these periods of utmost restlessness: Sometimes, it is in my control, and I change the schedule whilst at other times, I simply budge. There are several of my family, friends and professional acquaintances who seem to absolutely love the layover times and even endeavor to deliberately include one. They make use of the time in the most productive sense through reading, office work completion, writing and shopping too. I too tried them all yet failed miserably in utilizing the airport layover periods constructively. Hence, all I resolved to do is hope for a lesser -duration layover. Until, of course, I met a wonder woman who completely transformed the manner I treated these phases and many more aspects of my life too.

8:30 AM, Hamad International airport: It was a short flight from Bengaluru to Doha. After reconfirming my next flight’s agenda, and assuring myself of at least 5 hours of free time, I lounged on a couch. I began observing my fellow travelers – some were excitedly clicking away pictures in the vast and beautiful Doha airport that boasts of amazing photo worthy spots (I have my share of fond memories); many were lost and yet to be found since they were engrossed in a shopping spree and there were few others who seemed to be anxiously waiting to board the flight- just like me.

I looked around and found a young Indian girl seated right across me.It was courteous of her to smile at me. I returned it. After a while, I started to fill in a few particulars on a declaration card and figured I did not have my pen handy. I heard the gentle voice of my dad inside my head– Always carry essentials, one extra set if you can. I looked at the woman and she immediately gave me a pen, grinning. The mood was so positive.

I introduced myself to the lady and thanked her soon after I finished filling up the form. She introduced herself as Reema. She asked me where I was heading. When I answered and then inquired about her trip, a sort of sadness took over her. She smiled faintly and said, “This is a forced trip. Ha ha. My best friend from childhood has planned a surprise in the UK and I am going to be away for a month.”

I exclaimed, “Wow! I am so jealous. I want a friend like yours.”

We both shared a hearty laugh.

We got talking; I realized it was not funny anymore after Reema handed over a huge folder in the middle of our engaged conversation- the folder was full of handwritten loving cards decorated by her friend and they were posted to Reema over a period of 1 year. The expression on Reema’s face had a story to unfold.

Reema said, “I never wanted to go on this holiday.”

I was still clueless. Yet I was concerned to know more.

“Ever since my dad passed away when I was merely 4, Priya’s family has been our backbone. They never felt like neighbors but like kith and kin. Whenever my mother or I needed them, they would be more than happy to support us unconditionally. It is a blessing to have a friend like Priya. She patiently wrote me such heartfelt letters in the past one year. Full of compassion and care. I haven’t replied to even one of them. ”

Reema was in tears. I could imagine the pain and squeezed her hand. By now, without my knowledge, I had shifted to be beside her.

“I am extremely sorry, Reema. I truly did not mean to nudge you into opening up about such personal anecdotes. “

“Oh, no. I would not have said it if I wasn’t comfortable around you.” Reema was both, mature and sweet.

I felt a sigh of relief. Only to realize that a harsher truth was to be unraveled in a few minutes.

“The last 3 years have been terrible for me and my aged grandparents. My mother, who was both a father and a mother to me, succumbed to bed with a critical illness. She was bedridden for more than a year and a half. We tried everything we could lay our hands on and reached out to get the best medical help, but in vain.”

By now, I was uncontrollably emotional. I really did not know how to even imagine what it felt like without both the parents. Reema’s tears had dried by then. I composed myself. I immediately pretended to be all Okay – after all if anyone needed the emotional strength and love, it was Reema and I had to be the giver, not the other way round.

“But, you know, I am happy for my mom. When my dad passed away, I was too little to comprehend the gravity of the loss. Each passing day of my childhood, however, felt utterly incomplete. There was a sense of void only a dad could have fulfilled. My mother, on the other hand, gave her all to ensure I was most happy. She endured the pain in solitude. “

Reema stopped to have some water. I passed on a few cookies. She looked at them and said, cookies cheer me up. A childlike heart, I thought.

“Two decades later when the almighty decided to take mom away, my heart exploded into a million pieces. The hardest truth was right in front of me, yet I fought with it. In the beginning, I drove it away like it was a dream. It came back shocking me and mocking at me. It has not sunk in, the bitter reality of my life that, my mother is no more a part of my little world. My world came shattering down on me, it is indeed excruciatingly painful to accept that mom and dad chose to leave me alone in this big bad world.”

I asked Reema if we should go to a private space. We had hardly seen each other for about an hour and the conversation flowed. The profound way in which we were both attached to the matter and the conversation, only proved that the world is indeed a better place and it is faith that helps anyone take a leap. Reema clearly had incredible faith restored in a stranger to break open from her most protected place.

“My grandparents and Priya and her family stood like pillars of divine strength. I hated being alive. It was dangerous at one point. It was then that my grandparents showed me what my soul needed. They asked me to never ever think or believe that my parents are gone. They told me how I could always live every moment of my life with them beside me (imagination is so much more powerful in that it manifests itself in alternate unthinkable ways than the stupid reality), reminisce my parents’ words and act accordingly.”

“Each instant that is a reminder of the physical absence of my parents should now have to translate into immense strength and beautiful love. My parents had so many dreams for me and I have to be there to live them all and be an agent to bring to fruition all of their personal little desires. “

“You know, the suffering that my mother went through during her final years is indescribable. She would wish she was never in her senses lest the agony of the pinches and bashes of incessant medication take the better of her. She would hide away all that grief just to see me, talk to me, listen to my pointless stories, and laugh with me. She sacrificed everything just so I could be happy even when her body and mind had long given up. Shouldn’t I be happy that her suffering finally ended and move on to live my life in a beautifully touching way which would truly rest her soul in peace?”

“I can always join her and daddy later.” Reema signed off, looking intently into my moist eyes. I hadn’t blinked for a while.

Reema and I have been friends ever since. The sentiment that we carry right from the word go, is one of my most cherished treasures of life. Often, we humans crib about the luxuries and comforts we miss out on. It inevitably becomes a reason for unhappiness. We hardly notice the priceless possessions we have in our lives. Meeting Reema became a life lesson for me. Reema is an embodiment of “gratitude.” She is a living example of being optimistic and weathering the storms in life. I thank god for all the blessings in my life, every day.

On a lighter note, Oh yes, I do not dislike airport layovers anymore. Who knows I might make another wonderful friend? Touch wood.