From the Earth’s
Belly
“Hurry up boys”, I called out to
my sons as they got ready to go to college. I was a little exited because today
I was going to meet my Husband who wanted me to be with him as he entered the
last leg of his stay as an expatriate in Beijing. My husband has been in China
for the last two years and he was serving the last month of his contract before
coming back to India. He was therefore particular that I should be with him for
the last time in China visiting places and packing up stuff for the relocation
at the end of the month. I had to hurry with stuffing the refrigerator with
food for my two boys who would be staying alone with their grandparents while I
was gone. Since they were grown up boys and the extended family was around I
did not worry too much.
That afternoon after kissing my
boys goodbye I boarded a flight to Beijing via Kuala Lumpur. We arrived in
Kuala Lumpur around 22.00 hours local time and had another Ninety minutes
before the connecting flight to my destination. I stayed up trying hard not to
doze off due to the jet lag as I was eager to see my husband after a long year
of separation. The flight readied for take-off and we had all settled down to a
smooth journey when around thirty minutes into the flight and while the crew
were serving drinks, I noticed an unusual smell floating in the air. Looking
around I did not see any bother on my co passenger’s faces or their body
language, everyone seemed to be settling comfortably for the next few hours. Since
I am not a frequent flyer I was somewhat allergic to this smell which grew
stronger, even while I noticed frantic efforts between the Captain and some
crew members.
All off a sudden the lights
snapped and an envelope of pungent smell along with thin layers of smoke akin
to cold vapour seemed to fill the atmosphere. This made us all very irritable
and slowly it seemed as if everything had stilled inside the aircraft, there
seemed to be no activity. I too felt as if I was being lifted into space to
join the stars outside my aircraft window. The mind felt lighter, emotions went
blank, and it was almost as if I were peeping from the corner of my eyes with
my eyes closed. I tried hard to recover my balance, grapple with my mind and senses
to get myself in order. The more I tried the deeper I sank into a state of
helplessness. I so much wanted to move my limbs more as if to reassure myself
that I was still alive and a passenger on Flight MH 317 bound for Beijing. I
remember slipping deeper and deeper into unconsciousness though somewhere my
mind refused to give up and I felt as a corpse with eyes open seemingly aware
of people mourning around me but assuredly without the inner connect to
establish this link.
The aircraft toasted and tested
its way through the clouds while my subconscious mind grappled with the
inevitable. What about my boys, who would look after them scold them, cook
their dinner, massage them when ill and hug and cuddle them to grow as good
human beings. I could see my husband tossing and turning in bed, in excitement
looking forward to the morrow when the sun would rise and bring an exciting day
for him, the excitement of meeting his wife of twenty years who he has sorely
missed during the last one year. The eagerness and fulfilment of desires gave
way to the initial irritating news that the flight was delayed. The delay
seemed to extend into infinity with no news of the incoming flight. While the
information board clattered with the changing information of flights arrived,
Flight MH 317 seemed to be held up somewhere in the unknown.
The unknown space was where we
were travelling at a uniform speed for a period of time which seemed like
eternity. Finally the flight lost its steam and floated like a bird that had
stopped flapping its wing and was gliding in the sky. It felt like a kite in
the sky that had snapped its string, like a parachute jumper who was enjoying a
float in the sky before he pressed the button on his parachute. The glide
finally ended with a splash in the waters, and then the sinking happened the
aircraft turned on its side and swallowed water in small quantities, I started
sinking, and the waters enveloped us as if we were being pulled by some unknown
force from beneath. The light started going out of my eyes, I closed them and
waited for divine redemption. I prayed that God would pull me out of this
painful existence, an existence that could neither conform my past nor my
present.
Whatever the state, I am still
stuck underneath with around 300 of my fellow beings, trying to release
ourselves from this miserable existence, where we were neither counted in the
living nor the dead. I hear they brushed up their algorithms and mathematics
piercing it with modern technology to pinpoint our abode in the earth’s belly,
even though they keep contradicting themselves all eager to be the first in
locating us, while we wait for a final redemption, that which would place us in
the history books as those that perished in air accidents and got buried at sea
en tail. We don’t want to be known as people who were lost, for that would be
hard on my loved ones who would hope against hope and pray that a miracle would
happen. How did it happen who is at fault, can be left for another day. I
simply want to get out of this trapped situation. I so much want to shout but
the waters above me still my voice, what else can I do till someone finds me,
comfortably tucked with my seat belt fastened waiting for the final redemption.
Now, I lie in the deep expanse of
the ocean wondering why the creator had to provide the earth with more than 70%
water compared to around 30% land mass. Why did he cut short my life, I can see
my troubled husband and kids in a huddle, trying to make sense of my
disappearance. Would I be allowed one
chance to escape this place to bid them goodbye, I don’t know, How I wish I could,
to rearrange my love affair with my husband, so that I could drive some more
earthly sense into my kids, My! Do they miss their mummy, would this be a
psychological blow for them, or would they be able to shake this tragedy and
move on? I can see condolence meets being organised for me, the various actors
some in genuine grief, some putting up an outwardly appearance. Gosh! How it
takes death to decipher your friends, people who really love you, people who
cannot do without you, how it takes death to bring out the truth in
relationships. For a brief while I felt happy that the salvage party hadn’t
still found us, because I can sit amidst this vast expanse and peep from behind
the curtains, reflect on truth and hype, and separate truth from illusion.
Probably I am getting a bit grumpy;
sitting overtime in one place for more than six months, certainly takes its
toll on drifters, who are making their transit from the living to the dead. Can
we ask you all to join hands, speed up,
get your act together and come and fetch us?, so that we can be released albeit
as clipped and caged pigeons to meet our creator and travel into the infinity
from whence there shall be no turning back, no coming back in either thought or
deed.
(This article is inspired from the sad story of MH317 and should be
seen only as a piece of writer’s imagination having nothing to do with actual
events as they are or as they may unfold)
20th August 2014
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