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Varsha Seshan

 

Flying Alone

March 22, 2015 by Varsha Seshan Leave a Comment

“Window or aisle?”
“Aisle, please.”

I took my boarding pass and boarded the flight.
No sister with me this time. No one to hold my hand. No one to exchange sparkling glances of excitement with.
Sure, I was going to meet her, but on this journey in 2006, I was alone.

The journey to Milan from Mumbai was a long one, but I sat straight, willing myself not to fall asleep. What if my head dropped and I leaned against the man sitting next to me? Mortifying! Better to be sleep-deprived. I was travelling alone, I reminded myself, and I had no comfortable shoulder to rest on.

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I kept myself awake. I could not bring myself to eat dinner at 2 in the morning, so I drank a glass of water and stared out of the window. The world I was flying over looked like a topo map. I loved topo maps. I found myself marking settlements in my head with red dots, matching the red roofs I could see below. I measured distances with string, and calculated scale – inaccurately, of course.

And I dozed off.

“Ma’am, breakfast?”

I woke with a start. I peeked at my co-passenger through the corner of my eye, hoping I had not moved in my sleep. He smiled blandly back. I wolfed down my breakfast. (Except for the watermelon. Too red, too watery. I don’t like fruits.)

After a beautiful sunrise, there I was. Milan.
“Please, ma’am, you need to take off your belt before you go through the metal detector.”
I did so.
“Now, please raise your hands as you walk through.”

That’s when the wave of tiredness and incomprehension hit me. “If I could take off my belt and raise my hands,” I wanted to ask, “why would I wear a belt at all?”

I didn’t ask that – for no reason other than that I was too tired.

I somehow kept myself awake through the second flight as well – to Paris.

I saw the beautiful snowy mountains. I watched the raw wilderness melt into cities.

I could see my sister through the glass while I waited for my suitcase. Of course it was last. Everybody’s suitcase is ‘last’ on a conveyor belt.

And then there we were – together in Paris once more. Chuckling about taking off your belt and raising your hands. Shaking out wise heads about staying awake for so long. Ready for another adventure.

Filed Under: Travel Tagged With: backpacking, Europe, France, Milan, Paris

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