In the Airport..

Airport.

It’s a place from where many dreams take off. This place makes the world smaller by giving people wings to fly. It never sleeps. It sees people going and people coming without knowing where. There come some birds without fluttering wings from the sky and it sees the same birds swallowing the people, flying high and disappearing in the sky.

It sees many emotions on the faces of people every day. Some are sad, some are tensed, some are confused, some are in a hurry and some seem to have eternity to spend here. But the place remains neutral; perhaps, when it was newly built, it was also confused to see why people are so different. But, it’s an everyday story; but now, this place shows no emotions, just like the people who work here.

I see different people here.

There is a couple, must be little over 70 years, with a boy aged about 6 years. It looks like it’s their first journey in the sky. Maybe, they are going overseas to meet their son and the daughter-in-law, who have gone there to convert dollars or pounds into rupees or to rename ‘living’ as ‘career’. Even though they have visited the airport many a times, all the procedures here seem new to them today. They are completely ignorant. The man is inquiring every airport officer about the processes in excellent orthodox English, not realizing that English has changed, just like the people. There is a boy, their grandson, who’s just enjoying his ride on the trolley on top of a huge traveling bag. He is innocent. Ignorance is not knowing what should have been known and knowing that it should have been known. Innocence is not knowing the both. Ignorance and innocence are traveling together.

There is another family with a large herd of girls. They are busy taking selfies. Their camera phone that blinks its eyes, records their faces in its memory will shortly see them uploading them on facebook, instagram, whatsapp and what not? From then the number game begins, how many views, likes and loves? One of the elders in the group asks them to stop posing for the camera or they would miss the flight. When they continue, he even makes a poor childish joke in a warning tone that if they miss the flight, they will have to remain in the airport cleaning the floors. The lady cleaning the floor starts rubbing the mob more strongly against the floor giving a warning stare at him.

There are people who are too casual in their dressing. They have come with their shorts, three-fourths, night pants as if they are going to buy a shampoo in the shop just beside their home. On the other hand, there is a group of ladies, on their obvious first visit to airport, have come dressed up in grand-looking silk sarees. They have realized that they are minority, trying to hide the embarrassment but feeling comfortable looking at each other. There is another lady, wandering aimlessly, trying hard to hide the wrinkles on her face beneath the make-up, in the western outfit, bargaining time to make her look young, not realizing the fact that old age has its own beauty.

There are people, looking like commandos roaming in the airport with guns, appointed for the purpose of safeguarding people if any massacre takes place. But, instead of creating a secured feeling, they remind us of terror attacks and adding to some people’s tension. There are air-hostesses and air-stewardesses arriving in their uniforms. Some are in dark red and some others in dark blue uniforms. Colour of their uniforms contrast with complexion, exactly like the smile on their contrasting their state of their mind. They seem to be irritated with ugly looks and insensitive comments they receive from some people. But they choose to be blind to those looks and deaf to such comments; plastic smiles on their faces continue to cover their emotions.

And lastly, here I am, sitting alone and watching the entire world in the airport, waiting for my bird without fluttering wings to come and take me to the skies of a different world.