FLIGHT

This story is selected as Editor’s Choice

I was never really close to dad… well… with FIVE brothers and sisters, and FOUR step siblings, what would you expect! But I booked the first flight home the moment a call from one of my step sisters rang at the office.

“Ravi! Call for you.” My assistant Sindhu whispered! “Personal.” She added looking at the disapproving expression on my face- I was in the middle of a meeting.

That rather surprised me. I never got “personal” calls at my office phone… I checked my cell immediately. Holy… 8 missed calls from… Ritu? My step sister. 2^nd eldest among her siblings. I had not spoken to her once in the last decade, and a call from her… on the office phone. Er… that never could bode well could it? And it didn’t. Father was terminally ill. He had had another stroke that afternoon and the family doctor had asked all the members to be present if possible within the next two days.

The journey home was the longest four and a half hours of my life. I needed a nap. BADLY. But all I could manage was ten minutes of frustration. Finally giving up, I flipped open my laptop in an attempt to at least catch up on some work. Even as I looked at an overlong project report that required editing, my mind wandered back almost 30 years…

 

“And the best recitation prize goes to… Master Ravi!” announced the village primary school headmaster.

There was thunderous applause and loud cheer from the 100 odd people who had gathered under the mango tree inside the school campus to observe the Independence Day celebrations.

My eyes scanned the crowd and then the only opening in the wire fencing all around the school, directly opposite the mango tree, that acted as an entrance to the first center of learning in our village. There was no one sign of dad.

“That’s my boy!” a voice suddenly boomed over all the cheering.

“Dad!” I looked around wildly, seeking the speaker and then my eyes rested on the source! I hung my head in disappointment. It was not dad. My elder brother had come to the recitation competition as a substitute.

Later as we slowly trudged back home I asked Shiva bhaiyya in a tiny voice,”where is father?”

He hesitated, “father… had to go to the panchayat office for hoisting the flag…”

Warm tears gushed down my cheeks, “but… He had promised…” and then I could not control the shivers in my body as I broke down.

 

“Coffee, sir?” I was brought out of my reverie as I found a stewardess smiling at me.

I could feel the anxiety as all my thoughts of sleep got pulled away with each sip of caffeine. Resting my head on the glass of the window, I observed the dew formed on it by my breath, yet again transported back to the past.

 

It was January, a million years ago. Father was sitting on his favorite chair outside on the verandah, fiddling with his ancient radio. It was foggy, terribly cold and our mud house didn’t help matters. Around dawn I gave up trying. It was impossible to sleep any longer in that teeth-jarring cold. I went outside and found dad, a shawl wrapped around him, listening to some sad sad tune playing on the radio- sounding as if being forced to work in such weather.

I went up to dad and demanded,” father! I w…w…ant a sweater” shivering as a breeze swept across the verandah.

Dad asked surprised,” what? Why? I already bought you a shawl I do not have any more money to spend!” and turned back to his radio.

“but it is not enough against this cold” I blurted out angrily.

“watch that tone boy!” father warned me. “and if you want a sweater buy yourself one.”

“yes I will. Give me the money!” I countered.

Dad got up from the chair, and looked at me with his piercing glare,” earn it!” and began walking towards his paddy fields opposite our house.

“How!” I screamed back, tears welling up again in my eyes.

“work on my fields” said father’s fading voice.

I stood there watching my father until he disappeared in to the fog, fists clenched in anger, my skin raw with cold and agony in my teenage heart.

That winter I gifted myself a thick blanket with my first earning, a 5 rupee note- payment for working on my father’s farm.

 

“Please be sure to take your belongings from conveyor belt number 2. Thank you for flying with us!” the stewardess announced before we boarded off the plane.

A hot blast of air hit my face as I stepped out onto the tarmac. I was finally home. After nearly a decade of evading my family, friends, shunning my past and getting completely immersed in my work. I got into a jeep which ferried people from the airport to the main city. “Radhanagar bus station- city market- motor stand” cried the conductor, a teenager – not even 18 yet, attempting to catch the attention of as many passengers as possible. I smiled as a familiar memory caught my mind.

 

Father had saved up enough and taken a loan for the rest to buy a second-hand jeep, ordered from the city. It had a grey colored body with a black removable canvas providing cover for passengers sitting in the back. We were excited about the jeep. Father had appointed me and Arup bhaiyya- my immediate elder brother, as “handymen” or conductors. We were to take turns assisting the driver for carrying passengers from one village to the other.

Wearing our “uniforms”, the school uniform rather- white shorts and sky blue half sleeves, we would announce our destinations, handle payment of the fare and also manage a book for recording daily transactions. And we received a handsome payment too.

 

“Here’s the hospital sir! Have a good day.” The teenager informed me, as I handed him the fare, and continued,” to the city! To the city!”

I rushed to the ward after inquiring at the reception. Most of the family was sitting outside the room. All my siblings were there- some catching up on sleep, some familiarizing themselves with the day’s news others whispering among themselves with grave expressions on their pale faces.  The only common expression on all our faces was anxiety. Yes dad was 86 and had been unwell for quite a while now and you never can tell at such an age but, as mother used to repeat before passing away, parents are parts of our lives which once gone… my throat choked up at the thought of it!

I entered the room cautiously. It was the ICU actually. Dad lay on the bed looking peaceful, his visage a picture of serenity, his breath slow and ragged, a sudden twitching of his hand alarmed me but then it passed and he returned to the sleep he often complained he craved.

The doctors proclaimed him dead in the early hours of the next day. While the women cried, the men also let out their emotions. I stood in a far corner, looking at my siblings unabashedly letting tears flow, comforting each other, step brothers having arms around each others shoulders in a rare moment of fellowship. My eyes remained dry, no emotions crossed my mind, there wasn’t a head for my shoulder to support, and I stood there all alone.

“Are you OK?” I felt a small hand on my shoulder. It was my youngest sister Needhi.

“Yeah… I am fine.” I answered even as I felt my voice crack.

 

I was at my seat on the plane back to Bangalore, a myriad emotions diving in and out of my consciousness. So many memories flooded my mind; it was all a blur, making me feel dizzy. I remembered my last conversation with dad before I had decided to run far away from the family I so despised.

“Listen son, I know I have done a lot of wrong in my life. I shunned your mother and you and your brothers and sisters… and I am reaping the consequences of my actions taken in the heat of youth! Think twice before you leap son… think twice…” father had told me before I had walked out of his porch, not looking back once.

“Please fasten your seat belts, straighten the seats, and….” I was startled out of my thoughts. Rubbing the moisture away from my eyes, I looked outside the window. It was time to leave. The plane finally roared into life and started its motion on the runway, the seats jerked for a moment as if protesting against the sudden movement, then it picked up speed as the noise reached to a deafening level and the wheels retracted back into the belly of the airplane, the vehicle lifted off the ground, and soon the white gleaming body of the plane was nothing but a speck in the sky.

It had taken flight.