Mangalore Chronicles

Haven't had this incredible urge in a helluva long time. This itch is desperate to be scratched. I need to write. I need to pen my thoughts, my feelings. And I have to absolutely desperately have to tell you about my journey to Mangalore.
Let me begin with what I'm feeling at this particular moment. Completely 'KAAT'... for various reasons beginning with the airsickness bag. You see I'm writing on it.. I don't have paper!! Asked the steward and he doesn't have any too. But you see Madam M has to, needs to, is itching to write. Okies.. scratch scratch...
Back to Kaat.. that's what Anjali would say.. call's me anyways.. an elongated ka....at... Mangaloean for cheap. And today I am epitome of the same. I'm loaded with 2 bags screaming Dubai Duty Free. Gawd!! My walk to the aircraft was bloody embarrassing. I felt the eyes of the whole world and her aunt watching this blob balancing two bags and a hugely shamefaced expression on the face.
When young, I used to watch the 'Gulfies' strut with these duty free bags and used to cringe on their behalf. Funny how life turns around and slaps you on your backside when you least expect it!!
Wonder how I'll get off the aricraft. Will I stick my 4 chins out and walk like I care an effin damn or will my nose take a dive trying to reach the ground to hide the flush on my face and apology in my eyes. Have to wait and watch. Methinks I think too much.. bout the most inconsequential things ever.
Have to tell you bout the passengers on the flight. I'm sittin in the front row, all alone. Not a brilliant idea considering that most parents with small babes are upgraded to the front seats. The flight is half full. Not too many squaling babes. Thankfully.
There's an absolute angel in the seat across the aisle from me. With eyes like mine but lashes like palm fronds and with dimples on her cheeks deep enough to hide candy in. Cannot take my eyes off her. And she's terribly opinionated.
Behind me is a mangalorean catholic family. Daddy, Mummy and Baby. Trying very hard to sound like posh-english-speaking expats. "Kaale baby.. sit fast. Flight is going.. you want to go aeroplane or bail gaadi" all in one breath. Poor child like she has a choice now that we are airborne. Hey daddy is talking english.. what you know man? Too much blogging fool. Daddy is asking the stewardess serving the most unpalatable snacks on earth, " beer, beer... I want beer" Stewardess, " Sir, this is not drinks trolley". Mummy angry got with daddy.. " you only think about drinks.. kaale tu.. "
Just before the cutie with the dimples n eyes occupied the seat across mine.. thre was a flurry of activity. Enter.. pure mangalorean aunty wearin 4 fat gold bangles, chiffon saree with blue pink flowers, hair in neat bun with 3 pins, gold rimmed spectacles and a mean mouth. Takes the window seat. A pale looking little thing in a sri lankan-auntie-long-skirt follows and flops into the middle seat. Tight T-shirt-nipples poking-jeemps pant-sport shoes-baldie mister walks behind holding eskimo bundle. You should have been here, I swear. It was so bloody hot that its not funny and the babe was wrapped in blankets that would hatched a newly laid egg.
Ok. they all settle down and peace reigns for exactly 3 minutes and 47 seconds. I was counting :)
Pale face begins drama - ' I can't sit here, too hot.. moan.. whine,, groan.. whimper. Mother in law looks out of the window with such attention you would think she has been paid to count the pieces of baggage being loaded onto the aircraft. Baldie mister-holding eskimo- guitar style rants at bag counting mother. ' Why did we have to come and sit here.. we were fine in the 3rd row. you like to sit in front.. why i dont know... grr.. gr... bark!'
What a sucker. Number One: you've wrapped a hapless newborn in fleece thick enough to make the hair on my legs cringe in shame and defeat. Number two: idiot, bloody fool.. you fell for IT!!! He's in between a power struggle and the ass hasn't figured it out. Mother plays first card - move to the front., daughter in law complies, cannot stand her ground and refuse, she's young yet. Instead, plays flip flop, moans and whines and baldie mister-holding eskimo-guitar style falls for it. Round one goes to Wife. They file back to to the third row in stony silence.
I watch the tableau and cannot hide my smile. Thankfully I'm bewitched by the next occupants of the seat. Mother and child - eyes and dimples.