Thursday, August 11, 2011

Hail Earthlings!

The incessant and ever debilitating strife to arrive… to survive… to live… by the Kierkegaardian existentialist notion of one being the one responsible for giving meaning to one’s life through conquests over the quotidian angst and distress and torment which one is subjected to, has led most of us to an endless nowhere, where we seem to be ‘sens-ible’ only by the virtue of a stubbed toe, a witless push and a hurried shove by our many well-meaning co-passengers subsisting alongside us on terra firma.

My predicament with life, whether to be or not to be, became more trenchant as I sat in my Go Air flight, travelling the very intimidating Delhi-Bombay sector. (Anyone of us who has ever lived in either of the two great Indian metropolitan cities for any substantial period of time, knows how the daunting aggression of Delhi turns more terrifying, blended with the superior self-righteousness of benign Bombay (Sorry - read Mumbai!).

I will weary you not with trifling petty episodes of exhausted stewardesses responding to the insistent twings and rings from importunate bodies demanding to be assuaged in their desires for nourishment and temperature control amongst other such soul-threatening wants. We advance with double-speed playback to the end… till you hear the Captain, in a Kafka-ish, droll, and at the same time cynical, voice announce the final clearance for landing (reminiscent of Anthony Quinn in Le Procés – It’s a must watch for all out there looking for meaning). There was much rejoicing by one and all at the prospect of not having to crash land into some local pastureland on completely exhausting our gas reserves (We’d waited for landing clearance 27 minutes!)

Fast forward – We landed with a jolt and an earth shattering impact (which after a multitude of air journeys I have yet been unable to take in my stride as just another coming, and have my life flash past – one dubious scene to another – waiting to meet my Maker.) That was not to be. I had been given yet another lease for life. The Captain congratulated us on being proud visitors (or residents as the case may be) of the greatest city built by man (literally), and was kind enough to inform us that due to extreme aircraft circulation on the airport taxiways, we had a 12 – 15 minute ride to our final designated halt. I silently thanked him and the authorities and The Authority for having been kind enough to allow us to go home – to an anxious loving husband and a perpetually inebriated dog.

A sudden loud Verdi-like baritone emerged, shattering all peace, from our neighboring seat, and both my daughter and I somersaulted out of our skins, fearing an engine on fire, failed brake, short fall in runway length – the Mangalore tragedy was still playing roulette in our minds, and the thought of being tossed about like dice was, I will concede, not palatable at a time when the thought paramount was to get home to find some existentialist meaning for myself and mine.

The subsequent monologue (which to my utter relief was not the Captain spelling doom) lasted about 57 seconds, was for the most part centred around whether or not my neighbor’s aggrieved ‘boss’ had made contact with the poor unsuspecting ‘friend’ (on the other end of the telephone line) who was perhaps struggling to find his own meaning in between playing receptionist and transmitter. The audience was given to understand that at the end of the precious period (57 seconds) he was unable to finally ascertain whether or not his ‘boss’ had indeed succeeded in ‘making contact’. My sympathy, neighbor!

Fear for the wellbeing of his ‘boss’ seemed preternaturally high, even to a seasoned corporate subordinate(d) employee like me. It was a dazzling exhibition of stretched vocal cords which resulted in sibilant Shhs from the uncaring heartless stewardess who was beside herself with tearful misery for the fear of being reprimanded for not being able to contain and maintain this remarkable and benevolent Bombay-Delhi crowd.

In quick succession to the Shhs came another quivering reticent voice, increasing in desperation while awaiting his progeny’s response on whether or not the arrival of the chauffeur would be timely as they would be out of the terminal in less than 37 minutes or so… More Shhs. The gentleman, finally convinced that the driver and car duo would indeed be present at the arrival lounge pick up point not a moment too late to whisk them away to safety as soon as they tread solid ground – broke into rapturous glee and explained to his dutiful wife the complete situation.

More calls. Baritones, Sopranos, Altos… More Shhs…

On a sudden impulse rose a gallant young man a few rows ahead of us and all hopeful eyes followed his movements, certain he would admonish the baritone, but we rejoiced to see that he was actually preparing for the final departure. With a dashing movement, he opened the overhead baggage loft to retrieve his laptop – More Shhs, flailing arms, running stewards – Please sit down, please sit down! More heads reared, reached out to their possessions, worried that not being first might lead to accompanying the craft for a restful night in the hangar – proving yet again Darwin and Spencer accurate in their theories in human evolution and economics respectively of survival of the fittest… Hail Darwin! Hail Spencer!

Meanwhile, the unrelenting rings reached crescendo all around us – with sound bytes from Kajrare, Waka-waka and Sasural genda phool amongst others drowning all other senses. Ladies and gentleman sitting across and adjacent and ahead took quick cues from ladies and gentleman astern and fore, and the craft transmogrified into something out of a horror flick where you know the scene will end with an undulating screech from the damsel in distress…

I sat awkward in my incapacity to respond to the question in my daughter’s eye, pointing to the illuminated seatbelt sign, which was instructing (imploring?) passengers to keep mobile phones in the power off mode and to not leave their seats till the craft came to a standstill in its designated area.

Hail Kierkegaard!

Hail Nietzsche!

Hail mobile telephony!

Hail Earthlings!

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