chapter 2

'This is the last and final boarding call for passenger Rahul Patel booked on flight US-5446 to India. Please proceed to gate no. 3 immediately. The final checks are being completed, and the captain will order for the doors of the aircraft to close in approximately five minutes' time. I repeat, this is the last and final boarding call for…' Announcement at "John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York," was on in repeat mode. I got late even on my last day in New-York and was running on the edge to board the flight. Wearing a vintage style high-neck Epaulette Shoulder Cape leather jacket and an iconic Burberry check scarf of matching color around my neck, which was floating in coordination with my black and shiny hair, I was running restlessly. A leather cuff in desaturated brown color was peeping out through the slightly folded sleeves of the right hand. Sennheiser HD800 was in my ears connected to my Apple iPod playing Eminem. I swiftly put two full-sized airbags filled with all kinds of pricey clothes in the roller belt and kept one undersized and almost empty backpack with me. I collected the boarding pass and went for the security check. Airports are very picky about security. They hire men who look like he-might-punch-you-anytime.He checked my handbag, my luggage and even my pockets for a weapon. If I actually have a weapon, and I am taking it out of the country, isn't it good for America? I boarded the 24 hours extended flight to India leaving a lot of striking memories behind of my bachelor's degree with 'Rochester School of Medical Technology, New York.' I was the last one to board the flight. Had I got delayed by a few more minutes I would have missed it. There is a strange pleasure in entering a flight at the last moment. When everybody else is seated and staring at you as if you are going to fly the plane. Gorgeous air hostesses were standing at the door to welcome me. 'Am I boarding the flight to heaven?' I asked as soon as I saw the first lady standing there to welcome me. Flirting is like oxygen to me. 'Why so, sir?' She giggled. 'Because all of you have the face of an angel.' The girls giggled even more. 'This way, sir,' one of the angels looked into my ticket and directed me towards my seat. Yes, take me to the clouds. She assisted me with the only vacant seat in the business class compartment. The flier next to me was resting on her hands, keeping her head down. Only her long, black and silky hair was visible to me. 'Oh God, she must be a pretty girl,' I prayed. This is what I do whenever I spot any girl from behind. This is what every guy does.I was getting restless to see her face. I was waiting for her to wake up and to lift her face so I could see her. The plane started to run on the runway and the pilot announced to fasten our seatbelts. 'Ma'am, you forgot to fasten your seat belt. We are about to take off,' I said, tapping her shoulder as I finally got an excuse to talk to her. She woke up, looked at me and said, 'Thanks,' in a masculine voice. I was shocked to notice a beard and moustache on her face. After a few hundred seconds I realized, he was not a girl. He was actually a guy with extra-long hair. And extra silky too. He was just a victim of western fashion. 'You have got amazing hair dude,' I said with a sigh of disgust. 'Thanks,' he replied and slept again. Maybe he didn't get the satire. The flight attendants explained to us how to use the parachute and what it needs to be done in case of an emergency in the scariest possible way. Instead of preparing the passengers for the emergency why don't they hire superior pilots? The plane took off and the team of gorgeous air hostesses came to serve the passengers with refreshments. It was like Fashion-TV playing live in front of me. All of them were tall, charming and beautiful. How come air hostesses are always pretty, is it just a coincidence? I wonder how they might hire them. You are pretty? Congratulation, you got the job.'Their smiling faces are like they are actually in love with each of the passengers. Flight attendants and receptionists are in fact the only species of beautiful girls on our planet, who respond well when you pass a smile at them. 'Sir, would you like to have something?' Asked the air hostess trying to awake the sleeping-long-hair guy next to me. 'He needs a haircut, maybe,' I thought. The guy didn't wake up. She gave up on him and asked me displaying a tray full of many soft drinks and hard drinks. I couldn't respond. I was just feeling lost in her eyes. 'What do you want, sir?' She repeated herself. 'Tanya, I want you…' I read her name from the badge she was wearing on the top left side of her uniform. 'Excuse me!' She got puzzled. 'Tanya, I want you to pour me some red wine please,' I completed myself in a mischievous accent and passed an impish smile. 'Sure, sir,' she reacted as if nothing happened. Had there not been a magic present in my eyes, the air hostess would have been offended, but she passed a smile in return. It is like Cupid's first law of love, 'if a non-hot guy stares at a hot girl, it is a gauche or a form of assault. But it's an exception for guys with blue eyes. 'You know what, this is unfair,' I continued.'What is it, sir?' She offered a glass of wine. I took a sip of it and said, 'you should not tie your hair like this. It is like a violation of human rights.' 'And how is it a violation?' She asked with a smile. She was enjoying it too. 'Your hair has a fundamental right to be free, to live its own life and I have a right to see you look more gorgeous with untied hair.' She blushed, didn't say anything. Meanwhile, the plane hits the bad weather and experienced a few jerks. 'Oh man! You are creating turbulence to this flight.' She winked at me and left to attend other fliers. I was carrying a small handbag which was kept in the luggage compartment above the seat. At night when everybody else in the plane was asleep, not the pilot and the crew members, of course, I turned on the reading lights installed above my head and reached for my bag to take out a beautiful but old diary from my bag. It wasn't an ordinary diary. It was an antique looking exquisite diary made with cruelty-free leather and unlined handmade paper with amazing shine. A string was there to wrap around to lock the journal. I opened it and began to write in it. 'Mom, One good news, aapka beta Doctor ban gaya, finally. (Your son has become a doctor.)Yesterday only I collected my medical degree and today I am flying back to India after a long time. This is what you wanted right? Now I will live with dad there. I never wanted to live in India because waha aapki aur bhijada yaad aati hai (there I miss you even more.) But I have completed my studies now and I have no excuse left for not living in India. I also have to support Dad there. Doing a medical degree from New York was awesome, the study was so tough, but you know me, I always do it when I want to do it. Okay mom, good night. I miss you, always. Goodbye.' #### 'Ask the driver to take out the car, we are going to the airport,' said Mr. Patel to Rohan with great difficulty. The slash in his mouth was not yet healed. He wasn't talking unless necessary. Mr. Patel was standing in the lounge of Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport–Terminal 2, when the flight no: US-5446 from The US Airways landed. Bidding adieu to all the pretty angels in the flight, I stepped out of the airplane. I came out of the airport and hugged my dad. 'Hey Dad, how are you?' I exclaimed on seeing him after quite a long time.'Fine,' I was coming to him after five long years. I was expecting a lot more than just 'Fine.' 'Mr. Patel had a small cut in his mouth. It was an accident,' Rohan explained as I looked at him. He held my luggage and asked the driver to keep it in the car. 'Let's go home, sir,' said Rohan.