Someone, or many, somewhere, long time ago, decided that I wasn’t to be given the privilege of a direct flight home.Some upper class problem I have.
I was uptil now living in the south end of the Indian silicon valley, weirdly named: "Electronic City". I was in Phase 1. Compulsory residency course. Not by choice. I remember my feelings when I first came across the word "phase" in order to describe a part of this "Electronic city". It sounded optimistic to me. This optimism was surprising. How many times does the name of a place inspire optimism now a days? "Gurugram" anyone? I got the sense that there were plans on the back-burner to expand this area. There also exists a Phase 2. It has the distinct feeling of a "2nd" "Phase". But that phase is somehow more lively, if extent of randomness equals extent of liveliness, than the first phase. The first phase is covered, almost, entirely by trees and snaked by footpaths, walking on which is somehow more adventurous than trekking, and is home to many companies, both, well-known and the ones in which I had a shot of employment. The second phase has many hostels, for both the genders, some companies, bazaars and is adjacent to "Hosur" road, a road which uptil here, runs parallel with the elevated toll way. The tollway ends here, not the road.
It's the travel from Phase 1 to my home which is the subject here.
Since Phase 1 is synonymous to Infosys, or maybe because of something else, the bus to Kempegowda International Airport stops and starts on the Infosys drive. The bus service is excellent in Bangalore by the way. The bus journey "phase" of the travel in itself is always eventless. But is also the one which is the most testing. While on the way towards the airport, I used to find myself in some sort of hurry. The smoking zone and magazines allure me to that end.
The journey from the airport towards the compulsory-residency-cource's residence is the next level in hell. Dante never travelled with me. He would have known more. A circle wouldn't be the analogy he would have used. The depiction of black hole in Nolan's "Interstellar" is said to be scientifically accurate. Dante would have been able to surpass that. I trust Dante. Renaissance, had it happened in this time, would have considered it the Middle dark ages. We would have found ourselves looking at 'thinking man' from a very different perspective and Mona Lisa's confusing expression would have had better explanations. Woodstock never would have been a 60s excess. It would have been a fest out of which would evolve genres of music which could only capture a glimpse of my frustration and Nobel peace prize would have required contribution towards something other than world poverty & the likes.
Someone, or many, somewhere, long time ago, decided that I wasn't to be given the privilege of a direct flight home.
My parents live in Surat and during my 2 year long compolsury-residency course, I found myself traveling to Surat on multiple occassions. Quite many of those were completely out of the blue.
The rant would have been valid even if the travels were planned meticulously, to the extent of keeping track of calories burnt in each "Phase" and this post would still have happened. I support travel planning.
Domestic flight requires arrival eons before the giant metal tube actually leaves the tarmac. There is a compulsory wait period involved between each phase. Each one of a different nature. All of them enjoyable by a normally functioning human being.
I am a person who requires 'writing' to be able to function in the purview of society. These periods were not enjoyable to me. I always tried my best. I have talked to many strangers with whom I found myself sharing the period with. None of that ever made any difference. There are a total of 11 phases, to and fro. 4/11 good phases still leave out 7 phases. That is 64% of the time which I am not enjoying.
Of course I have to rant.
I want to focus only on the last "Phase" of this process, unlike the government (lol, see what I did there?).
This phase is characterised by:
Wallet full of money
Stomach devoid of food
Head cramped with enthusiasm
Head cramped with pessimism
Ears blasted by Metal
Neck screaming in agony &
A sense of impending doom.
Had the ride towards my compulsory-residency-cource's residence been even a tad more comfortable, I would have afforded the luxury of crying like a baby. I had to always maintain the appearance of someone who is burdened by only his own doings.
Had there been a head-rest on the back of the seat, I would have been able to afford periods of head-laid-back-eyes-wide-shut introspection.
Had the ride been not 2.5hr long, I would have been able to afford a well fitting rationalisation for my dread.
Had the walking period from the bus stop to my compulsory-residency-cource's residence been shorter, I would have been able to afford a back which would scream a little less in pain.
Had the bus air been not conditioned, I would have been able to afford wind-flowing-through-my-hairs calmness.
Had there been a direct flight, I would have transformed through lesser number of "Phases" like "Electronic City".
Someone, or many, somewhere, long time ago, decided that I wasn't to be given the privilege of a direct flight home. Some upper class problem I have.