গল্প - Atreya Bondopadhyay

Those Couple of Hours – A Vignette

Atreya Bondopadhyay

The plane was half-empty.

She sat down on her window-seat and her breathing started to slow down. She could relax now. She realized that she did not feel as uncomfortable flying as she used to, a couple of years earlier.

Only a few minutes were left before the flight would take off.

She took a deep breath.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed that a blonde, grumpy-looking athletic young man came and plonked himself on the aisle seat of her row. He wore a black hoodie-jacket and jeans.

The plane began to take off, with the flight attendants alerting and mouthing the usual instructions to the passengers.

She thought of vinyl records getting stuck and repeating the same section of a particular song, again and again.

“Thank God, no more passengers coming in. The seat next to me is empty... Yay!” She smiled thinking that, and put her bag on the empty seat.

Mr. Grumpy (as she named the guy effortlessly, in her head) pulled his jacket-hood over his head and put on big headphones, before shutting his eyes.

An hour passed. During that time, she tried catching up on the pathetic novel that she was carrying with her throughout her trip.

She noticed that Mr. Grumpy had a small black pouch on his lap that was about to fall off.

He instinctively opened his eyes and pulled it closer, just in time.

Their eyes finally met.

She spoke, “Y’know, you could keep your bag on this empty seat between us. There’s plenty of space. My bag is not that big.”

“Oh... that’s alright, I’m absolutely fine.”

She noted his seemingly British way of speaking.

Eight and a half minutes pass by. Mouths remain shut. Eyes to the front.

He finally removes his headphones.

She spoke again, pretending not to look at him and feel awkward.

“So, did you enjoy Hong Kong?”

“Hong Kong? Oh... well I couldn’t stay long enough, to be honest. I wish I could.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said. “My trip was only for a week.”

“I stayed at Kowloon for three days, attending a conference. Before you know it... Time to head back!”

“To Delhi?”

“Nope, Bangkok.”

“Ah! So you’d have to spend less time on the plane than me. Yay! Do you live in Bangkok?”

“No, no,” he chuckled. “I’m meeting my parents there... Hey, tell me something. Did you have any communication problem with the local people, in Hong Kong?”

“Well, not so much. I don’t know, maybe it’s an Asian thing?,” she laughed as she spoke. “It might be more challenging for them to communicate with Westerners... So, meeting your parents in Bangkok. That’s so nice! And after that, what?”

“We are going to have a mini vacation-cum-reunion for a few days, and then fly westwards.”

“Where are you from, by the way?”

“Actually, all over Europe!”

Her eyes grew bigger.

He continued, “Yep! Born in Hungary. I’m Hungarian by default. Then my family and I went on to live in Gloucestershire and Manheim, for almost two decades. Now I’m in London.”

“Okay. That explains the UK-ish accent. Your parents also living in London?”

“No, no. They have gone back to Budaörs. Our hometown… Well, what about you?”

“Well, I’ve lived my whole life in Delhi. I was fortunate enough to travel all over India and a few places in Asia, with my folks. This was the first time I went to Hong Kong. Alone, outside the country. An aunt stays there. My parents are currently visiting another part of our country to attend a wedding.”

He guffawed, “Hey, how is this possible? If you’re Indian, how am I able to understand you? God, one could never understand the way Indians speak!”

She sounded a little miffed. “You, Sir, are a racist! I will call a flight attendant now, and ask him or her to throw you out of the plane. Racist jokes are not funny... I want a change of subject.”

“My apologies!... I didn’t realize. Uh... What do you know of Hungary?”

“Couple of things. Both of them sort of belong to the supernatural category.”

“Well?,” he replied, eyebrows shooting up.

“Well, first is the Hungarian Suicide song? ‘Gloomy Sunday’?”

He laughed.

“Then there’s Elizabeth Bathory.”

He replied, trying to suppress his laughter, “Not really a good impression of Hungary, yes?”

“Just very little knowledge.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a freelance graphic designer... Can I confess something?”

“Sure.”

“You are coming across as quite a talker! When I first saw you, I couldn’t imagine that we would have such a conversation... I have this view that European people as very cold. They don’t smile at strangers or make much eye-contact, and stuff.”

“Well in that case, my overall experience with Asians haven’t been all too rosy, as well. I guess it could be a cultural thing? Cold weather, being rude to get unnecessarily involved in other people’s business… So on.”

“We are breaking stereotypes in front of one another, isn’t it?

Both of them laughed.

“Are you studying?,” she asked.

“No, no. I work. My colleagues and I had gone to the conference for self-development in the corporate sector… Yada-yada-yada!”

“Where are your colleagues?”

“They are scattered all over this plane. Maybe towards the front. Our seating arrangement has gone haywire!”

“The Corporate world is tough, according to me. Takes over and consumes your personal life.”

He said, looking pensively at the foldable table, “My parents say, ‘you know, you’re young now. So work hard and work a lot. Earn that money. When there’s enough for you, choose to take it easy.’ It’s easier for me to spend most of my days at the office, because I live alone in London.”

“It seems that you’re close with your parents.”

He grinned. “Well, they do get on my nerves, sometimes... What about you?”

“Same here. Parents all over the world have this pattern of behaviour... By the way, how old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. You?”

“Twenty-nine. It’s great that we are closer in age... So, as I was saying... While I absolutely adore my parents, I can’t stand most of my relatives. They are so mean, behind our backs. They have to poke their noses into everything!”

“Yes, I can relate. I have my own support system. My two brothers and my parents... Then there’s my girlfriend’s family. Very nice folks.”

She could feel that their conversation was drying up at this point. She failed to understand why. Was he feeling the same?

She startled a little, as she heard the announcement. They have reached Bangkok.

The plane was landing. Too soon, she felt.

In order to break the awkward pause that just cropped up, she spoke slowly.

“By the way, what songs were you listening to? Earlier?”

“Ah... well, mostly Hungarian and German pop.”

“Oh. I mostly listen to Indie music, nowadays.”

“You have to fasten your seat belts.”

“Oh... I’m such an idiot! I’m doing it right now.”

“So... What are your favourite Indie bands at the moment?”

“Well, there’s this band called Wild, and they have this wonderful song which is currently stuck on my head in a loop! It’s called, ‘Throw me in the Water’. I always tend to put the songs that I like, in different situations that I face. I haven’t yet found a situation in my life, where I would place this song... You should definitely listen to it.”

“‘Throw me in the Water.’” Okay. I’ll remember it... I’ll think of teabags.

Both of them laughed, again.

The plane had landed.

Those getting down at Bangkok were asked to leave their seats.

“Now you suggest me some of the stuff that you listen to!,” she said, smiling, trying to get a hold of his gaze.

Seemingly not hearing her, he stood up and began to pull out his bag from the overhead storage space of the cabin.

She looked outside her window. Lights all over. Bangkok airport appeared magnificent. She thought of the lights in her city, during Christmas, or Diwali.

She could see a few men and women standing and looking at him from the front of their cabin. His colleagues, maybe?

She looked at him and now saw him smiling at her, holding his bag.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a small queue had formed behind him. It meant that he had to start moving forward and eventually leave the aircraft.

The moment had arrived.

She smiled at him, again.

He reached out his hand to her and said, “Have a safe flight!”

She could not say anything, however hard she tried.

When their hands touched, both of them realized that they were icy cold.

As he began to walk forward, she slowly turned her eyes towards the window. Then, to the floor. She did not want to see him leave. She did not know if he looked back at her, as he descended the stairs.

Two and a half weeks had passed.

After the conference, the Hong Kong trip and the short vacation in Bangkok, he thought that he would be utmost productive in his work-field.

Sadly, that was not the case.

It wasn’t that he lacked any effort. Despite it, he couldn’t focus. On work. On life.

Colleagues and friends would often find him unusually quiet and staring blankly from time to time. It was as if his mind was in another universe.

His girlfriend started complaining about his apparent change in behaviour.

He hid a fact from everyone, that he felt a constant pain at the corner of his chest. An unexplainable pain. He was aware that it was not due to any medical condition or any health issue.

It was the physical manifestation of something occupying his mind, all the time. He was in denial. At least, in front of others.

Unfortunately, little did he know or realize that someone else was having similar symptoms.

It seems that the song had found its place.

Are both of them left to wonder the “what if” question, for the rest of their lives?

What were their names, again?