Talk to your neighbour

I'm normally a pretty quiet chap when I'm traveling alone - be it by bus, train or air. I assume that people like to sit back and relax, rather than be bothered by some random stranger sitting next to you. But times change, and I'm not averse to conversations with random people these days. On one of the flights I took to come to India this december, for instance, I had a somewhat unusual experience with my neighbour.

The woman sitting next to me introduced herself as I sat down, and even recognized the authors on the book I was reading (that's a rather unusual occurrence, given my reading taste), saying that she'd read some of their other books. Then we made small talk regarding where we live and what we do. She was returning to Naples for work, after spending two weeks with her family in the US for christmas. I noticed that she had difficulty keeping still: she would constantly tap her feet or stroke her hair or something like that. When I asked her about it, she admitted that she was high-strung, and was missing her cigarettes, which would normally relax her. She was afraid of flying, especially over water; and she'd had a rough week, including a close call in catching her flight.

I automatically went into lecture mode. I explained to her that flying was safer than driving, and flying over water was safer than flying over land. I scolded her for being a chain-smoker and a chain-drinker of coffee; I told her how both those things are extremely unhealthy and contribute to nervousness. I even told her about how Yoga and Meditation would provide a long-term solution in helping to relax.

Then I asked her why she was so nervous when she'd just finished a two week vacation at home. She grimaced and said that spending time at home was no vacation for her; and then she promptly broke into tears!

And so I found myself holding a weeping thirty year old stranger's hand, somewhere in the stratosphere over the atlantic ocean. To make her feel better, I told her some of my own troubles, ending with a philosophical "Everyone has problems: it's how we face them that's important."

We became more friendly over the rest of the flight, and we wore genuine smiles as we bade each other goodbye, knowing that we would never see each other again. I often wonder, if anything I said helped, or if she took it as the usual inscrutable eastern mumbo-jumbo. I like to think that I made a difference. Vain, I know.

Since then, I resolved to be less taciturn than my usual self while traveling. I think I made a friend on my flight back to the US, a computer science grad from bangalore. At the very least, I made one person's flight less lonely. That's the crux of it, isn't it? In the old days, I liked to be alone, and I assumed everyone felt the same way. These days, I don't mind being alone, but I've come to appreciate the value of good company.

May your future travels be less lonely. Talk to your neighbour!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Approaching normalcy...

After surviving exams, surgery, the Charles De Gaulle airport, and a horde of relatives saying, "Oh my child! How thin you've become!", my life is slowly coming back to normal. Until I'm back at my desk in Penn State at the end of this month, though, I'll continue to be a little detached from the online world.

The solution to life, the universe and everything does not appear to be 42, but a series of little 42s. For instance, look at the trials I mentioned above. Exams? Attend classes more regularly and pay better attention. The Charles De Gaulle airport? Never fly Air France again. Being thin? Er... regain those lost pounds (somebody tell me how!) and don't give my relatives an opportunity to make such statements. I feel like I'm in one of Nissim Ezekiel's poems... the cosmos conspiring to keep me thin, and my own negligence making it worse.

And of course, there are the unavoidables. What was the surgery for? I can hardly spell it. What was the cause? Even the doctors aren't sure. At least they knew how to treat it, I should be grateful for that. I feel a little vexed that this prevented me from having fun for a while - couldn't meet up with my good ol' pals or play at the local bridge clubs, but I tell myself, it could have been a lot worse. I did get to read a ton of books, so I had something to occupy me, even if I've been reduced to reading masala authors like Clive Cussler.

The leap from epic fantasy to pulp fiction is rather painful, and I'm itching to get back to the public library in State College, but hey, I'm in one piece, in reasonably good health, and the future is worth looking forward to.

Cheers,
Prashanth.