Skip to main content

To the city of sky scrapers - Part 2 [Fiction]


Mridula, Rahul's mom was packing a bottle of his favorite mango pickle, a packet of jeera Khakra*, some delicious home made laddoos as he was finding it difficult to decide on the pair of shoes he'd carry. Rajatha mausi brought a typical south Indian rasam mix which she had learnt after she settled down in Bangalore that is like about 15 years now. That mix was almost an instant recepie. She had also taken the pain of writing
down the steps Rahul need to take while he prepared it. When she was explaining this , Jhanvi his badi bua [Aunt] handed a set of hand-knit woolen gloves in the shades of blue [Again his favorite color].

An announcement jerked him up. "All passengers travelling by flight number XX1290 taking off to New York are requested to move to Gate number 2 for boarding." That was his flight and he had to leave now.

Waved his hands with a grin on his face as he reached the escalator. His eyes were moist as he alighted the escalator. There was a minor tumble. Rahul slipped a couple of steps. He made it safe after a gentleman held him tight by his arm.

Rahul: "Thank you very much Sir..."
Manikanthan: " Oh thats alright Dear. First time?"

Rahul: " Yes Sir. Heading to New York for a research assignment.By the way am Rahul"
Manikanthan: "That's Excellent. I have a company this time. And I am Manikanthan"

Both exchanged smiles.

Rahul turned back to see if he could sight his family. Beep Beep. That should be Shipra. Yes it was. Before he could open the message a number started flashing It was Jhanvi Aunty calling. He received the call and responded in a jiffy as he boarded the flight..

"Yes Aunty . I am safe. Don't worry Aunty..."
"I will call.Sure...."
"Take care Aunty.."
"Love you all"...

The call ended.

He rushed to the inbox again to check Shipra's message.

" Sir please switch off your cellphones. All Electronic gadgets are to be shut down for a safe departure." - A humble request was made by an elegant air hostess.

Rahul had to oblige and so the message remained unread.



To be continued....

Previous Part ~ Part 1     







Notes: *Khakra is a snack similar to crepes but a little stiff in texture.                                          

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A cry not heard!

Ray of light far from sight All his need is a caring feed A place to sleep, a blanket to keep - the despodent waif Warm and safe Cruel men see the poor one plead, Emptiness filled hearts hesitant to share a part. On the pavement's corner sits this lad a bit. Weak and pale telling his tale None hear Do they feign fear? Hoping - is all he could do for some fresh hot stew Every passer-by down the lane Ignore this guy and all his pain Why is this scene not wiping off my brain Serene it Remains Revives time and again As I sit by the window of the train.

SUPW - Socially useful and productive work!

Say primary school or exams - it brings back memories of lot of fun filled activities along with the normal syllabus. Languages, Basic math,science and social studies are the ones included in the normal stream. The ones out of this are - General Knowledge, moral science, story telling, project work - these become the building block for a child's growth in a complete way. Last week an evening as I returned home, a neighbour's kid was waiting for me the enitre afternoon for help.He needed guidance to complete his project work. The school had come up with a concept to bring the creativity out of a child's mind.It goes this way - use the waste materials and create something useful - Socially useful and productive work(SUPW). SUPW is another learning area falling under the non-scholatic domain - This ensures that the students develop better understanding of their social and environmental issues. It also encourages students to take up varities of activities,which are productive a...

Cent story 17: Love like rain

Rain poured softly the day Krishna first saw Purvi—draped in yellow, lighting incense at the Ganapati pandal. Their eyes met like a prayer answered. Thunder rolled, but all he heard was her laughter. From borrowed umbrellas to shared street-side chai, their story bloomed. Every rain after felt like a song only they understood. When they wed under cloudy skies, even the priest smiled, “Blessed by Bappa Himself.” Years passed, but every drizzle pulled them back to that pandal, that glance, that moment. Love, like rain, sometimes arrives quietly—soaking deep, leaving music in its wake. Krishna and Purvi were always meant to be.