I love you O Air Hostess

I’m back in Chennai. I get it. I act as if I’m in Johannesburg. But you don’t realise what Chennai means to me and how dear it is to my heart. I had my first all-you-can-eat pure vegetarian buffet here. I also had my last all you-can-eat pure vegetarian buffet here.
That’s not all. Chennai is where I discovered the true importance of my otherwise useless Android phone: in hiring an ola auto instead of a regular one.

Chennai is also where I discovered the true meaning of responsibility: that it is not right to wait for the bus conductor to come to you to issue a ticket, but your responsibility to approach him for one even if you don’t know where you are heading to. So what if this newfound comprehension came at a great cost? Like literally 200 rupees in the form of a fine upon inspection by the inspector?

It is these little things that undergird the edifice of good memories. When we look back on our share, the fundamental mistake that we make is to attribute what we are to a select few big bang memories taking up most of our memory space. After all, megabytes are made up of kilobytes. Wait, which one is bigger, mega or kilo?

It is common for most of us to be picked up by friends and relatives at the airport. I was picked up instead by that old sport called “Humidity”. But something was amiss. Humidity could sense it. In fact taste it in all its saltiness. I was sweating, profusely. But that wasn’t it.
” A look of dejection is what your face betrays, like the golden egg that the hen lays”
Shut up. As if this heat is not killing me already.

” I see that this is all about a girl, must have been she, like a pearl”
I guess.
” Know you must that there is virtue in dejection as there is none in rejection”
What the hell does that even mean?
” Umm I don’t know. Look wise guy! My job is to make you sweat. I only moonlight as a poet. But if you have a story to tell, you better start telling before the maidens from the bay of Bengal retire me for the day!!”

Alright. Alright. I fell in love. Yet again. This time with an air hostess.
” how do you know if its love when you fall for every dove?”
I was audacious enough to ask her to help me buckle up my seatbelts. If this ain’t love then what is?
” did she really help you?”
Nah. She told me “Aapka seat belt bandhi rakhiye”. I guess she didn’t realise that I was seeking her help. Not just her expertise in easing out difficult circumstances. But her hand in plugging my leaking heart.
Such a cherubic face, oh what an immaculate smile, aye how can somebody walk so gracefully?

” wait one sec, did you buy those chocolate laced muffins on board? Heard they are really good!!”
Ya I did. Spent 150 rs on two muffins. Total waste.
” sucks right?”

” and then?”
And then what? It was all over just as it began.  The plane landed. For once I hoped that the plane would never land. That the plane would drift into infinity, swirling around and around with no full stop!  And then she said “Goodbye”. Goodbye accentuated by a full stop. I didn’t even catch her name. But what was the use of knowing her name when her eyes were constantly singing ” there’s no shame in not knowing my name”.

” Leave the rhyming to me”
Sorry. Dejection sucks man. I really thought she was the one.
” whereas she was probably thinking: a few more fake smiles and goodbyes and I’m done for the day”
Did you say fake goodbyes?
” uh-huh”
That means she didn’t even mean that goodbye?
” I don’t suppose she meant anyth..”
There is still hope left for humanity my friend. I’m going back. I’m going to get her back and sing a loud Bollywood song to commemorate my victory.

” she’s probably back in bengaluru and if you are going to hurry and book a flight, its going to cost you lik…”
Why do you put a price on love? How can you attach a price to something as pristine as love?
” like 10,000 rupees. Dynamic pricing bro!”

Yeah, where will she go right? I can find her after a month also. What’s the hurry?  Ummm yeah.

I guess love is not all that monochromatic.

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About the author

Vijeth A. M

Vijeth A. M

Administrative officer in a prominent Govt of India Company who carries within him a visceral hatred towards Yo Yo Honey Singh. Writes only for the fear of losing his thoughts to oblivion. Wants to get a PhD from Indian Institute of sarcasm.

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