Skip to main content

Strange Turbulence

The old man

A clap of thunder, rain pounding hard against the window of the plane. Turbulence, causing the entire plane to rock. I close my eyes. Please don't crash. The child next me has a disgruntled look on his face. I fear he might get sick next to me. It is bad enough that I have to weather this condition the flight is in. The thought of having to tolerate this child sitting next to me, impossible.

I hit the switch to call over the flight attendant. This skinny little thing comes over, a forced smile on her face. "Yes, sir?" "Are we going to crash?" I asked.  I was not afraid of the concept of death, but I was afraid of the form of dying. She smiles, it seems warm maybe even close to being genuine. She asks me not to worry,  asks me if she could get me anything to make me feel more comfortable and tries to convince me that turbulence while flying close to land during a thunderstorm was perfectly normal. This is the 4th time that i am calling her over, since the entire ordeal began. Maybe I should order another whiskey. Something to settle the nerves. But I have a meeting early tomorrow, better to avoid it. The thought of the meeting helped clear my mind. I will make it to the meeting tomorrow.

I ring the attendant switch again. The same skinny woman comes. "Do you need anything, sir?" There is that same forced smile. I ask her if it would be a bad idea if I order another whiskey. She smiles and asks me if it would help me with my nerves. I am not sure. So I decide against it. I wonder how she can be so calm in this situation, how she is walking through the halls of this rocky plane in those stilletoes. Suddenly, the oxygen masks drop, and there's panic. The skinny flight attendant is still standing calm and trying to instruct people. I panic, I can't move.

The flight Attendant

A clap of thunder, rain pounding hard against the window of the plane. Turbulence, causing the entire plane to rock. I close my eyes. Please don't crash. The passengers in front of me shouldn't see this face. I fear it might scare them. It is bad enough that I have to weather this condition the flight is in, without having to deal with people as panicked as I am. The thought of having to tolerate them as well, impossible.

I hit the switch to acknowledge the call that has come from seat 8 A. Best to keep myself busy during this time. This old man has called me 4 times already. He was a sweet old man, and I smiled gently at him  "Yes, sir?" "Are we going to crash?" He asks me.  I am not afraid of the concept of death, but fear is a contagious thing. My smile becomes forced as I ask him not to worry,  I want to make him feel more comfortable, his nervousness was inducing panic in me. I try to convince him, that turbulence while flying close to land during a thunderstorm was perfectly normal. I was just trying to convince myself. Maybe I should have a scotch. Something to settle the nerves. But I have so many people to attend to, better to avoid it. The thought of keeping busy cleared my mind. I have done this before many times. I will make it through the night.

He rings the attendant switch again. I really don't think I can help him anymore. "Do you need anything, sir?" I try to be positive and give him one of my best smiles.  He wants to know if a whiskey would help settle his nerves. I want to scream yes I want to give free booze to everyone on the flight, but that's not my place . He didn't place the order, so I walked slowly toward the rest of my crew. I wonder how so many people can be so calm in this situation, how they are sleeping through the storm outside. I nearly trip a few times impossible to walk with these heels on. Suddenly, the oxygen masks drop, and there's panic. I brace myself, cabin pressure has dropped. I try to stay calm and remember my training, I look over at this woman trying to put on her mask, I help her out. But I don't know what more to do, I look over at the old man. I want to help him, but now, I panic, I can't move.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Blink

  The criminal I look at you. I remember I gave you the chance to break me. I didn’t leave, when I knew I should have. I stopped you when you were about to leave. I let myself be bruised. I blink to see if there are any tears in my eyes. I remember the last time. I had thrown it at you, that book that I had painstakingly made as an anniversary gift. I had thrown it at you, hoping, hoping that you’d see it and you’d know what we were losing. I had begged for forgiveness from you, craving for something I knew we had no way of getting back. I had blinked just hoping the pain would go away. I remember when you had told me that you wanted to be with me forever, when you had promised forever. That blue checkered shirt, with its sleeves folded up, the smell of my favourite deo, the half eaten plate of chicken wings, and that playful yet perfect smile. I had blinked, just to make sure that I captured the moment.  I remember when we had first met, how you’d sat across from me, just wai...

The train

The T shirt The morning of my first train journey alone from the city of Bangalore to the huge city of Mumbai, had me seeing the interiors of a train for the first time in 25 years. The last time I traveled by train I was 5 years old. A lot had changed since then. Flights were frequent, my father had made huge amounts of money, and I never had to bother taking the train. But as a 30 year old unmarried woman, trying to prove herself in a patriarchal society, I had cut off from my family- financially and emotionally. I had my hand sanitiser, wet tissues, pepper spray,  packed food (enough for 3 days), and I was ready to fight the germs and the assholes that could be in the train. I was dressed in my ex boyfriend's t shirt which was a few sizes too big, so as to not "entice" the lewd remarks or actions. A woman shabbily clad in a Saree came and sat next to me with her 3 kids and her husband who smelled heavily of alcohol. They were jittery and excited. There was a stron...

Reciprocate

The keeper I love you son. You are everything, and anything I have wanted. I am sorry that I left. I couldn't be at home anymore. My heart still aches that I left when you were still holding my hand, you were 7 and too young to understand. I could have come to see you any time, but I refused. But never did I spend a single day not thinking about you, I have supported you through everything, watched you more closely than you can ever imagine. But I couldn't bring myself to face you. At 13 you were bright, topper of your class, your mother raised you well. I just could never bring myself to love her again, I could not stand to be in the same room as her. I am sorry. It was never about you.  At 18, I thought that it was time, should I meet you, tell you how I know everything about you- How you have got into one of the best colleges, how proud I am of you. Should I? But I am a coward, son. I am the biggest coward anyone could ever imagine. Your hand wrapped around my fing...