2 years, 3 months later... (part 1)

Fifteen were the minutes to land and my heart was already pumping hard. I could smell the scent of Mumbai, an odour of slums, dirt and pollution. I breathed freedom in it. It felt an extensive relief to be back. I was feeling like a Bollywood star, coming from abroad after higher studies. It wasn’t until an agent asked me if I wanted to avoid the custom's check for 20 pounds, I was grounded and my Bollywood dreams were shattered. I was now feeling like a terrorist, smuggler and a thief. I arrived at the immigration. I saw a person talking in English, given the least importance. I decided to talk in Marathi. I was welcomed with a smile. While walking down the corridor of the international airport, I saw Mumbai Police, in their well-pressed khaki uniform, carrying pistols and rifles. I wasn't proud of them, thanks to the media, but was sick and tired of the polite London Metropolitan Police.

I was heading through the departures gate, and suddenly was too shy to go out. Hundreds of people stranded outside the departures gate. The scenario seemed like the Chief Minister of Maharashtra, me had just arrived. The security personnel, including the assistants were waiting outside holding flowers to welcome the CM, me. Babus wearing safari suits and leather purses, smiled, revealing their vermillion red, pan-full mouths. A million thoughts bounced in my mind for why all the people outside were waving and air-kissing me. I saw my friends and brother standing in a corner. I tucked my neck down, staring at the floor, shy as hell, headed straight to them. They too were waving. I realised it wasn't me. Then to my enlightenment, my brother elaborated how Sameera Reddy came out just before me, describing how different she looked in reality. Again, the thought that I was a star was in pieces.

It was overwhelming to see my friends and brother after two years. I wasn’t in tears as one would expect, but did have a heavy heart. I embraced them and we shared a satisfactory smile and a laugh. I never told my brother and friends my journey of agony from the customs to the departures gate, and we headed straight to Pune.

I was feeling a mental chill in the scorching heat of Mumbai. Breathing in the polluted air, dirt, and humid heat waves, I kept the car window open, absorbing the sun into my body as if starved of sunlight for decades. This wasn't for long as my excitement deceased and I started getting a burning sensation, which urged me to shut the window completely.

I could feel the jet lag. It was just 6.30 am for my body, whereas 12pm in Mumbai. I was hungry and we stopped at a small roadside restaurant for lunch. I was recalling the breakfast offered by the lovely airhostess, declined by me to avoid poisoning the atmosphere. I develop huge amount of gasses on a plane journey, which eventually become sufferings for the person beside me.

While at the restaurant, I stared at the glass of water, served by the waiter. I was forcing myself to avoid being a typical ‘foreign return’ and get used to drinking the local water and eat the local food without grieving for Bisleries. But, as I looked through the mighty half-washed glass of muddy water, I felt, "how beautiful it would be to get those tiny, rattling, visible germs into my stomach and waste the 2 weeks with diarrhea?" adding to it, I could also see finger prints of the previous customers, and my mind hovered through the countless crime investigation serials I’ve watched since childhood. Without me uttering a word, my friend saw the distress in my eyes, which made him order a couple of packed water bottles. He had a gentle smile, exactly similar to a person just about to ask your daily routine on a foreign land. We had a long chat while, having lunch, in the car, and eventually heard them snoring.

While I was trying to sleep at the front seat, the driver was having some fun conversation on his mobile with his relatives, I realised from his conversation. It was a bit panicky to see him drive by one hand on the expressway. I was looking at him at intervals, to let him know that I am frustrated by his emotional, fruitless, conversation with his loved ones, and I needed sleep. Later, his call ended depriving me of my sleep.

I was now happy to be close to my home. After finishing the expressway, I was feeling exhausted, with a headache, body ache and a bloated stomach. I was observing vehicles on the road overtaking each other without indication. I was telling my friends about how strict the traffic rules are in the UK. I looked back after narrating the ‘London traffic tales’ to see three smirks on the faces of my friends and the driver. The attitude clearly demonstrated, “this is India dude” in their eyes. London tales also included the frequent visibility of Ferraris, Maybachs, Porsches and Rolls-Royces. This time I didn’t bother to sustain anymore ‘mother India’ attitude and hence avoided looking back.

We entered into the city and I felt amazing to be back on the same roads. I think, only because it was after a couple of years. Was it before going abroad, I’d have been bored as hell to drive though them. I recalled the extensively used life quote, a grief I’d say, “you never understand the value of anything until you go far from it”, my tired mind skipped the ending, stating, “in life”, as I was already irritated by people agonising others, crying over ‘life’.

My eyes wandered around like Chinese tourists I see everyday at Covent Garden in London. They never stop looking around and take at least a million photos per hour. I took a million glimpses per hour, of the buildings, people and roads, outside, some old some new.

I reached home and my mom opened the door. My parents were pretty cool as they rarely show their emotions. They did the same when they saw me.

I ring the bell, my mom opens the door, I enter inside, my mom cracks a family joke, I keep my bags and I hug my mom and dad, as if they were the only reason of my survival. I see slightly watery eyes, but they never reveal their feelings. I was inhaling the freshness of life and love. I was overwhelmed by their patient and sacrificing attitude.

TBC…