Trip To India

“No, no,” I hurried to recommended him, “It’s a brilliant quote. I like it; I’m going to steal it from you.”

He put on a big smile and change subject. “So, where are you going in India? To see the Taj Mahal in Agra? To the beach in Goa? Or all over the villages?”

“Actually we intend to go to Nepal to visit an old friend, monk Govindananda. Five years ago I have been in Kathmandu’s ashram where he lives and I really enjoyed the stay...”

Doctor Giuliano seemed impressed. “What a coincidence,” he smiled. “I'm going to Nepal too! Maybe we could travel together...”

It was pretty incredible. It couldn't be an eventuality. Just a few days before the departure I bought a book really interesting, The Celestine Prophecy, and I developed a passion in reading it and in its plot, which stressed how nothing happens by chance and how events in our life are organized in a way that let us spiritually evolve when we're ready and we accept to pursue the ‘journey’.

After a few minutes of friendly conversation, doctor Giuliano went back to his seat, some rows behind us; and he apparently explained the circumstances to his comrade, because the guy smiled and waved when he noticed that I was looking at them.

I decided to get my book out of my bag and continue the reading. I wasn't too interested in the movie projected on the screen, to be honest it was quite far from our seats and it wasn't easy to follow the story. Josè pulled out the book from the over head compartment for me and then kissed me on my forehead. “I can tell that you're doing fine, honey. I think I'll go and stretch my legs and maybe see what condition the toilet is in.”

“Alright, dear, thank you,” I smiled and then I dived into my book.

Despite my fears, the flight turned out rather comfy. It was easy to imagine being on a very big bus, that was traveling on some motorway and I panicked just a couple times, when due to air turbulence the craft all of a sudden dropped in altitude. Josè hugged me immediately and consoled telling me that the bus got a hole on the road...

Around 7 pm the hostesses brought the trays with dinner. In economy class there wasn't a menu to choose from, besides the vegetarian or non-vegetarian option had to be ordered at the check-in. Josè showed how to drop down the table from the back of the seat in front of mine and I got a transparent hard-plastic tray with a series of similar tiny bowls, covered with a transparent plastic wrap, and a throw-away plateau in aluminum closed with a cardboard lid and a glass of water from the refrigerated jug on the trolley.

The little tray was quite warm: it clearly had been just warmed up. I opened it up with a kind of interest and found myself contemplating a trio of preparations: plain white boiled rice, chickpea stew and a mixture of vegetables apparently pan-cooked – green beans, potatoes and tomatoes. The taste wasn't bad, but it wasn't anything to get excited about.

I turned to the bowl of salad: lettuce, julienne carrots and one lonely olive. There wasn't any condiment, but Josè found a packet of ‘salad dressing’ which contained oil, vinegar and packets of salt and pepper. Another bowl contained a fruit salad: a slice of pineapple in syrup and some slices of banana. I accompanied them with a soft bread roll (in a foil sachet) spread with some butter.

Josè squinted at me, amused by my disappointed and perplexed look in front of my first meal on an airplane. “Don't worry, little monkey,” he said affectionately. “We'll eat properly when we arrive at our destination. Airlines have a restricted budget for what concerns food service. In first class they have better food, but we shouldn't forget that the main service is the transport of the passenger and his luggage, and no one is promised a gastronomic experience.”

I smiled. He was right, as always. When the flight assistant came to pick the trays up, Josè asked for two cans of Coke. He said they would help us to digest.

Seeing as in Coke there was enough caffeine we refused coffee and tea that the next trolley offered us, and then we organized to lay down a bit taking advantage of the empty seats near us. Raising the armrest and making it fit into the space between the two seats was enough to obtain a big enough space to stretch out. Not a sleeper, but it would do for a couple of hours.

At 9 pm the lights went on again in the cabin and the loudspeaker announced that we would be landing in Dubai within half hour, 11 pm local time. We all were stiff and sleepy, but we managed not to leave anything on board, not even my wheelchair that the flight attendant seemed to have forgotten. We got off at Dubai airport where some passengers went towards the customs - they had arrived at their destination - while our group trotted quite together, following the transit signs.

Josè and Nirva convinced me to use the wheelchair, so not to slow them down and I took their bags on my knees.

The transit passenger's assistance desk checked our tickets and took the voucher for the Dubai-Delhi tract, giving to us our boarding cards: the next flight was leaving at 2 am, local time. We settled somehow in the waiting area to spend those three hours... some Indian passengers took out some colored blankets from their hand-luggage; they spread them on the floor and casually laid down on them. It seemed an excellent idea, even though in Italy no one would think of it. Unfortunately in our luggage we had nothing that could serve the purpose, so we made do with sleeping sat on the available armchairs.

About twenty minutes before the departure a ground hostess came to call us and the group walked again towards the gate, this time it was attached to the fuselage of the plane through a metal tunnel that looked as if it was not so sturdy.

There wasn't much choice of seating, therefore Josè and I found ourselves on the left of the aircraft, with Nirvanananda and Max three rows behind, while Giuliano and his friend were further in front. Josè went to speak to a flight assistant and managed to get us moved near the tail of the plane. It was near the toilets and there were also some free seats so we were able to lie down again as soon as the aircraft got up to a stable quote and we got permission to unbuckle our seatbelt. After all it wasn't that bad. We received tiny cushions and a light blanket each and, in no time at all, I fell asleep again.

I woke up around 8 am, Dubai time - I have adjusted my watch during the wait for the second boarding. The light in the cabin was certainly stronger and I felt stiff and groggy. I sat up, trying to straighten up my hair and not feeling very elegant in my creased up clothes.

Looking around, I saw that other passengers were more or less in the same condition as me. A couple of Italians were prowling around the narrow corridor in between the seats in their socks, probably waiting for the toilet. I decided it was better to stay sat down until the situation cleared up, it still wasn't urgent.

The doctor's traveling companion was sat nearby, sideways on his seat and was watching the two toilet doors. One of them opened and a stocky guy came out, in his shirtsleeves. Giuliano's friend clumsily got up while the man passed by him and seemed to lose his balance. To hold himself up he grabbed the stranger's arm and the sleeve of the shirt, which was unbuttoned slipped up uncovering the wrist on which was tattooed a strange symbol. The man became annoyed but you could see he was trying not to show it. He hurriedly buttoned up his cuff whilst the doctor's friend apologized profusely and moved back into his seat to let him pass along the corridor.

When the stocky man passed, Giuliano's friend got up again, perfectly stable on his legs, and seeing that I had curiously observed the scene, he smiled at me with an air of complicity.

There was without doubt some kind of mystery in that story, that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Half an hour later there was not a queue for the toilets anymore so I took advantage to powder my nose. The cubicle was little but well-equipped, there was enough water for the sink and throw-away paper protections for the loo.

When I got back to my seat, Josè asked for a breakfast tray for both of us and two cups of lattes, so I sat down cheered up. The tray contained the usual soft bread roll, small packets of butter and jam and a yogurt pot.

I grabbed another cup of latte at the trolley's second ride and relaxed on my seat quite pleased. After all those hours traveling by airplane without particular problems of claustrophobia, I felt like a worldly globe-trotter.

Actually, the plane inside was wide enough not to be overwhelming. Surely there were the support of Josè and the others, Nirva and Maximilian, the excitement for the tour of India and the surprise for meeting doctor Giuliano and his friend.

The mystery that seemed to enfold their trip was another occasion to distract my attention from the possible anxiety due to the closed space...

The screen in front of us started to transmit the Disney movie Hocus Pocus, one of my favorites, so I hurried up to find the headphones and dive into the movie to take my mind off it.

After the film, I napped a little, because I still felt tired.

My watch showed 11am when the flight assistants served lunch. Luckily there were enough vegetarian meals to satisfy everyone in the group. Even this time the plastic tray contained a tinfoil container with hot food - mashed potatoes, strange unrecognizable vegetable nuggets and a thick spicy sauce that seemed to be made out of beans. I used the soft bread roll to soak up the sauce, that wasn't that bad and I left the butter in its packet. The salad was unattractive, but Josè asked the flight attendant if there was any plain yogurt pot left from breakfast and, with that and some extra salt, the side dish became more agreeable.

The trays were collected after about twenty minutes and immediately the loudspeaker of the cabin announced that we were going to land. I learned that it already was 2:30 pm, according to Delhi's local time, in which we entered. In ten minutes time we would have started the way down to the runway of the international airport of Indira Gandhi's terminal, in the Indian capital.

My excitement went straight up to my head. ‘India, I'm coming!’

Josè noticed it and squeezed my hand, smiling. We fastened our belts and I tried to relax as much as possible in the flight's last minutes, maybe the harder ones.

The plane touched the ground with a little tremor and I felt the aircraft underneath me rolling on the runway, while it gradually decelerates. In the end it went round a corner and then aligned in the prescribed area.

We were asked to wait until the plane stopped completely to unfasten our belts and get up, but some passengers were obviously looking forward to get off because they started to move restless. As soon as the aircraft stopped many jumped up to their feet to get their hand-luggage from the over head compartment and queued towards the two exits.

Josè suggested waiting for the corridors to be free and it was in fact a good idea. Doctor Giuliano and his friend rushed with the others, at a short distance from the stocky man with a tattoo on his wrist. Nirva went and picked up the wheelchair that we gave to the staff on board and they carefully helped me go down the stairs. My legs were quite stiff and painful after all those hours of travel.

As soon as the bus dropped us off in front of the arrival's hall, Josè and Nirvanananda helped me to sit down on my wheelchair and I was really grateful. I couldn't make it to walk on my own. We overcame the immigration checks without problems - the employee checked our passports and tourist visa and put the stamps on.

Afterwards Maximilian and Nirva got two trolleys and we met at our luggage conveyor belt. Our suitcases were all there and in good condition.

We looked around tired but satisfied: we arrived safe and sound in India!

Now we needed to look for a hotel to freshen up and rest properly. The travel agency in Italy suggested the Clark Surya, in Saraswati Marg, in the downtown of the touristic and commercial center Karol Bagh, at almost sixteen kilometers away from the airport. We got out looking for a cab and we found Giuliano and his friend doing the same.

The doctor nodded and came closer, leaving his friend to negotiate with the taxi-drivers. “Do you already know in which hotel you're going to stay?”

“Yes,” I answered. “It was suggested to us a three star hotel downtown, the Clark Surya. Do you know it?”

“Great choice,” he said. “For the next part of the journey shall we go together? It's better if we sleep in the same hotel, don't you think?”

“Sure”, Josè agreed.

“So let's get organized with the cabs,” Giuliano said and made a gesture to his friend, who nodded. Nirvanananda and Max came closer and the doctor explained to them that we were going to call three cabs to be comfy and the vehicles would have driven together.

With Giuliano's help, who seemed to be an expert traveler, the luggage was uploaded carefully and the three taxi-drivers confabulated for a while deciding the road to the hotel, then we all took off together in the reasonable afternoon traffic.

A SECRET MISSION