Sometimes I make decisions in a snap which are completely devoid of Logic, they have stupidity and absurdity written all over them however at that moment they just look like the “thing to do “. I changed my return tickets to allow me an 8 Hour layover at George Bush International Airport, Houston. There is nothing about the airport, neither do I fancy flying buses and plastic smiles. Airports have a strange sense of Pace, a weird sense of transition about them. I landed at Houston at 11 am, on today nice and balmy spring Morning, it is Easter Sunday .The lord has risen and so have I.
Just before landing at Houston, my headphones were quietly humming a haunting melody “aise naa mujhe tum dekho , seene se laga lo naa” and we circled around Houston. I was trying to relish both , single aisle seat in the tiny Canadair regional jet and Kishore Kumar’s yoodling …
The track changed swiftly to “aksar shabe tanhai mein” , an old yet piercing nazm , sung by Reshma , I started to walk on the long walk way. I paused at the Starbucks for a Tall (“which is ironically smallest cup size”) coffee with hazelnut creamer. I pulled the earphones out of my ears to ensure, I was following the Texan accent right. The Baristaa was from in fact South America so we both shared an accent handicap. In my hasty attempt to pull the wallet out of my packet, I dropped the cell phone on ground and the inevitable happened, the headphones were uprooted from the phone jack and Ahmed faraz was signing off with “kaun jaane in chahton mein faraz, kya mila hai mujhe …
I hurriedly picked up the phone in order to avoid this “weird” choice of my music embarrassing me any further. While I was picking the phone up, I saw this lady right behind me burst in an enthusiastic yet impromptu and innocent smile. I didn’t reply with a smile. Smiles don’t come so spontaneously to me, especially when it is a moment of embarrassment to me.
I picked my coffee and walked over the sugar and crème counter as if nothing happened. The lady in Crème was still ordering and I could see her now. East coast accent perfected after years of faking, a full sleeves knitted top and a scarf which pretended to be dupatta. Age wise, she must have been in her mid to late thirties and seemed like an unenthusiastic customer of anti-ageing products, but her natural glow was evident. She followed the route to the crème counter as well and I managed to return the smile in the most “plastic” fashion I knew. I roamed around looking at vodkas, kalhuas and finally settled at a seat, next to laptop charging point. The entire aisle was empty so I decided to log in , relish the landings and listen to Nida fazli written , apni marzi se kahan se kahan apne safar ke hum hain….Day was going well …it was an hour past mid-day ….
I was oblivious of the fact that lady in crème is also seated right behind me, grazing at empty duty free shops. Tracks changed to “Bade ache lagte hain yeh dharti ..yeh raina aur tum “ …I was happily browsing away to glory. Suddenly a “Hi” came flying …Nice song , do you follow the “drama” ???
I didn’t know what to answer, the accent disappeared swiftly and who was the “drama”, my slow brain didn’t know how to react. I said ya ….and paused. “You live in Houston”?? Was the firm and concise next question. No I said, I live in Bangalore, my answer killed her enthusiasm. The smile turned into a frown momentarily, my mind also immediately recollected only Pakistanis refer to TV serials as “dramas”. I wasn’t surprised. I got the reason for her reaction. First time in US? Was prompt next question, No I said, in a little jiffy mood, I come here often. Anyway, the conversation progressed to where are you going, why don’t I copy the song? The flight is too long and usual crap…I expected this conversation to die in 10 mins , it didn’t …and strangely ….it went on…
The conversation picked up from Faraz to Parvin Shakir, progressed to Farhat shahzad and Shafqat, how sorry “Pakistanis” in Houston were on jagjit’s demise. Notes were exchanged on how Indian Movies have Punjabi influence and Urdu songs hence technically they are Pakistani , you must be joking, I concluded. Do movies have nationality too ? The questions were inquisitive and the replies were straight and crisp. Kids, marriage and the works. Rahat Fateh ali Khan had progressed to “chada de rang …soneya ve” Ironic or coincidental, I was asking myself …..
Man, Marriage and Morals seem to take prominence in thought processes of each woman, I have concluded. Not in this order necessarily, but these thoughts surely pass her mind almost every day. Why are the “man’s” decision categorized and evaluated per “Man’s standards” . What has physical intimacy got to do with “morals” and why are marriages about exclusive conjugal rights, I often ask myself ?
The conversations were progressing on expected lines, the graduated from inflight food choices to comparison between Geo TV and NDTV, between mubbashir luqmaan and Arnab. They also progressed to extra marital affairs being topic of “TV Dramas” and state of Paki women post Musharraf regime. In my mind , it was no different to a one night stand , where conversations go from Vodka to Salivas very quickly, one is physical intimacy and another is intellectual…
Then, the inevitable question. How long have you been married. I looked at my watch and smiled in a very condescending way …For a long long time, I answered.
The last one year has taught me that we kill moments to build “long term” relationships. Some mirages kill the man chasing them.
We went back to Starbucks and were officially on an impromptu date. She started to carefully share generic details about herself. I copied “Chup tum raho and Chup hum raho” another Nida fazli classic to her ipad, the smiles were progressive ….. I liked the way she smiled…
The announcement for the London
You keep coming to US, she asked in a conclusive tone , I replied in a very sluggish affirmative . Good , let’s stay in touch then , she quickly double clicked on Facebook icon. I said …..ya …add me in ….she asked me my email address , looked at my picture and commented on the T shirt I was wearing in my profile picture and grey French beard…. Allah Hafiz ….She waived her hand from the queue.
After the flight took off, I replied to friend request as “Ignore”, not because I wont like to stay in touch , but sometimes NO matters more than YES.
All relationships have a shelf life, this one had rather short one. Short or long , all end that way …why write a book about them ….why engrave them on Facebook…
Sometimes the best thing to do to a relationship is to …..walk off …..
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