Why I love my silence at airports.
Catching cement dust between strands of my now-matted hair, I took a taste of the Bombay roads to the airport today. I know and I know for a fact that I will not be able to finish up any food I order from any of those kiosks but I still did it anyway to maintain my cheap (not) airport morals.
While munching on, I started my usual observation game – laying my eyes on everything I possibly can – from the chipping granite table top, the gradually deflating Indigo balloons, the shine of silver on the toe ring of a newly wed Punjabi bride to the churring ATMs. I can almost do this forever, it is like food for my hungry eyes.
At that particular moment where I was caught between the guilt for wasting a pizza slice and the urgency that it is time to move to the boarding gate, I realised how every single person at this airport with me or in any other airport in the world, with a ticket to somewhere is placed in a temporary, moving period of uncertainty.
We are all leaving to a known destination where we have no control of our destiny and we are leaving behind a known home where we no longer have the hold to keep it as it used to be just a while ago. It is crazy. We still move out, because we have to, we need to, we are asked to, we are told to or we choose to. In any case, those moments in the airport are an absolute flow, like dust moving within a ray of light — fast, slow, aware, unaware, random, organized, quiet and loud.
And I would like to call this place, this state of being, Middle.
I think Middle is a beautiful place to be. Right now, I am thinking of all the things, I am trying to control or hold back or push forth only to arrive at what I know, but usually run away from – accepting things as they are.
Middle keeps me calm. It tells my insides that they are alright, but only after a little roller coaster ride of my daily anxieties. But I like it here in Middle. And it is only here that I stop looking. I believe that when I stop looking, I get to experience more beautiful things that the ones I snugly slip onto my “I wish” agenda.
Middle lets me be. It lets the people I love be, it lets the things I loathe be, it lets my troubles be and it lets my goodness be.
I wish you Middle, this weekend. Just be.