It was still dawn when I stepped out of the cab and walked towards the entry gate of the Delhi airport. The early morning February air was pleasantly cold.
I was traveling to Bengaluru to attend a college friend’s wedding. It had been ten years since we graduated from the same college. This wedding was also planned to be a reunion of our batch-mates. But what I didn’t know was that the reunion meeting would start much ahead of time; right in the queue, at the airport counter.
I was almost sure it was she. Same height! Same long hair! Same complexion! Curiosity had my eyes glued to her. And then about sixty-odd seconds later, when she turned, she proved me right. My ex-girlfriend stood two places ahead of me in that queue. We had never met after college farewell.
I smiled as she turned back and waited for her response with bated breath. She did not seem to recognize me and moved ahead at the counter, leaving me confused if I had mistaken in identifying her or if I had grown beyond recognition during the last few years.
A sudden flash of heat went through my spine. I could not have made a mistake in recognizing my girl, my girl years ago. I had spent years together with her, admiring her beauty sitting at the luscious greens of the college campus. Her piercing eyes, her chiselled curves, her long silky hair, and her flawless complexion had all absorbed me more than my books then. We were together wherever we went, whatever we did and whomever we met, much to the prying eyes of fellow friends. We were the most happening couple on campus. Love was never this sincere and sublime.
“Sir, passport please”, interrupted the voice at the counter.
As I checked-in at the counter, I politely verified the name, the destination, and the flight on which she was traveling. The answer was in the affirmative, as expected. A sense of satisfaction prevailed upon me for a moment. Grabbing the boarding pass, I hurried not to miss her as she had already disappeared in the maddening early morning capital crowd at the airport.
My eyes kept searching her as I made my way through the buzzing people, busy stations, perfume-rich shops, luggage trolleys, cleaning machines, and vigilant security. There was a stream of thoughts running across my mind. Is she already married and trying to avoid me? Was the gentleman who stood after her, was her husband? If so, did I get a glimpse of any typical South Indian sign of the marriage which she would righteously follow? Did she feel embarrassed to recognize her ex? She would certainly be courteous to smile back at a person. Has she completely erased me off her books? Oh! how easily could she while I? .. .? I could feel my legs go heavy with the last thought and heard myself sighing after a moment when I spotted her back soon in line at the boarding gate.
The departure was on time with a direct boarding. I silently slipped into the seat next to her after clinching a deal for seat-exchange with the tending air-hostess. She did not seem to notice her co-passenger and was completely engrossed in reading some printed documents which she had in her hands. I wiped my sweat off my brows as I squeezed into my seat, breathing hard – not a day had passed without me thinking about her from the last ten years. She was there, still there, very much there, all over there with me and no other girl could ever be.
The neatly starched pink cotton sari complemented her elegance. Her flowing long hair was now tied cleanly into pleats. The big eyes were now seen behind the spectacles. Not much had changed about the way she looked but there was a graceful transformation to womanhood. She swept me off my feet, as always.
“So, how have you been doing?” she almost whispered.
“Well, yes…yes…Fine”, I managed to utter, clearing my throat.
She spoke with an unflappable air of calmness. She narrated with poise as to how tough her journey was from the last few years and how strongly she could endure and scale higher in the path she had chosen. It was the same voice but now a confident voice of National Consultant for UN peacekeeping, justice, and humanity. At times, it sounded to me as if she was delivering a well-prepared speech with her special humane touch when she spoke about her missions at war-hit and famine-hit places abroad. She shared that she was visiting Bengaluru to assess the impact of the destruction caused by landslides at Nandi Hills and that her team will join her. It was a pleasure to hear Bhakti talk like a nation’s savior. Work was her life now and she had discovered herself with people. There was no mention of the friend’s wedding at all. She had replied to all my questions about her with ease. I never asked any. It was impossible how she understood me so well, in silence.
Hours passed like minutes as she talked. We were shaken by a thud as the plane touched base at Bengaluru.
“Thank you. . .for letting me live my life”, there were tears in her eyes as she spoke gently. For the first time in hours, I saw emotions gushing through and her face turning red.
I fought back against mine, swallowed the lump, and smiled. I remembered her crying and clinging to my feet when I had rejected the marriage proposal and had walked away from her just before the farewell party. Citing genuine family reasons, I had decided to try not to cut the wings of a flying bird. I let her follow her destiny.
My Bhakti had become what I had envisioned and foreseen years ago. She was born for a bigger purpose in life, for reaching out to people. I lived to see this day. It was indeed a heartfelt reunion.
I saw her leaving by the exit while I waited at the baggage claim along with the flight crew.
“How was your meeting, Sir?” one of the crew members standing next to me asked nonchalantly.
“Er . . why?”, I mumbled, confused.
“The Home Minister made special requests to accommodate her on this flight in the last hour. The passenger’s list was forwarded to her and I was told that she was to meet a special person on the flight”, retorted the man.
My throat parched; I went speechless for a moment. With difficulty, I managed to step outside and waited for a cab; the sun was moving right above. Ready to behold many surprises with time, with a heavy heart, I headed to meet my old friends.
By Dr. Sushma Krishna
A Consultant Microbiologist at hospitals, Bangalore, with a passion for writing
