I am 3 hours early for my flight! After completing all the formalities, I still have to find a way to kill 3 whole hours. So while I try very hard not to emulate Shweta at her literary best, nevertheless I am ‘pulling a Shweta’ as I scribble away in a tiny spiral notebook that can only hold 3-4 words a line :-D
Already the adventures are beginning to unfold. A little black kitten with big green eyes is running around the I.G.I Airport, New Delhi. If she catches your eye, she’ll give you a mournful meow with a gaze that’ll melt your heart. I was supposed to be collecting baggage tags, but almost left my passport unattended (:-O against everything they ever taught me!) to run after that little kitten.
The poor thing was in quite a bad shape. Her tiny little body had fur only in scanty patches. Her hungry eyes seemed to beg for a big bowl of warm milk and a comforting cuddle.
At the risk of sounding obtuse, I asked a guard at the Immigration check—
Woh kya hai?
Billi! Yahin rehti hai Airport par.
Use khana kaun deta hai?
Aap jaise passenger log… Kyon, saath le jaani hai kya?
Mere paas do hain already!
Of course, my course of action is obvious to those who know me well. For the silliness of the coming events, I lay the blame on one Hietesh Shridhar who had just smsed me some advice—“Don’t think twice before doing a good deed!” And for some reason these words were triumphantly playing in my head when I was trying to defend myself to the shocked little Bulbul-Voice who was making horrified noises in my head while I was buying a frappe, pouring it into a saucer and running after a kitten in the lounge of Indira Gandhi Airport, New Delhi, at 1900 hours on the 30th of May 2007.
I must’ve looked mighty suspicious as I knelt on the floor near big baggage checking machines and peered under them, mewing softly to get the kitten to creep out or mew back. And if the guys who had to do my security check after this episode had seen me, I’d have had to answer some rather embarrassing questions. But all those if’s could wait until a hungry kitten got something to eat.
I was following that little thing all over the airport with a saucer full of cold coffee in my hand, a heavy laptop slung over my shoulder with a leather pouch holding my never-to-be-left alone passport strapped to it, bouncing off the floor behind me as it tried to keep up. She would sniff curiously and cautiously approach the big machines doing maintenance work in the airport lounge, then scramble away, skidding on the smooth floor, if the machines made the tiniest rumble. It was cute!
This little game of chase was amusing not just the vendors of all the little food booths but also the passengers now. Then suddenly, as if by magic, the little kitten disappeared somewhere in the customs area. There was a room I suspected she’d gone into. But I couldn’t go in to check because some big-shot officials seem to be in there enjoying a cup of tea and a hearty chat.
Mom had warned me in grave tones to stay away from Afros, rednecks and “Indians who act funny and give us all a bad name”. I probably qualified as a “bad influence” with all those antics! And I never got to feed the kitten after all.
But IF I’d been able to corner her, feed her, maybe even pet her, I’m proud to say that I’d already have a name ready for the amazing kitten who’s cleared all the stringent checks—the baggage check, the grilling immigration check and the ticket check—and now roams free, living off the tasty morsels she finds lying around. Her luggage is probably checked in and on its way to some mysterious land—but she couldn’t be bothered. She’d rather hang out at an international airport and satisfy her curiosity about airline meals, flight attendants and duty-free shops. She’d rather give you a hard time when you try to be nice to her and disappear into thin air at the least signs of pursuit. She’d rather captivate you with big green eyes until you’re charmed into believing that this little creature needs you to run after her and feed her something nice.
For such a precocious, lively and bewitching kitten, what better name than ‘Magic’!
Already the adventures are beginning to unfold. A little black kitten with big green eyes is running around the I.G.I Airport, New Delhi. If she catches your eye, she’ll give you a mournful meow with a gaze that’ll melt your heart. I was supposed to be collecting baggage tags, but almost left my passport unattended (:-O against everything they ever taught me!) to run after that little kitten.
The poor thing was in quite a bad shape. Her tiny little body had fur only in scanty patches. Her hungry eyes seemed to beg for a big bowl of warm milk and a comforting cuddle.
At the risk of sounding obtuse, I asked a guard at the Immigration check—
Woh kya hai?
Billi! Yahin rehti hai Airport par.
Use khana kaun deta hai?
Aap jaise passenger log… Kyon, saath le jaani hai kya?
Mere paas do hain already!
Of course, my course of action is obvious to those who know me well. For the silliness of the coming events, I lay the blame on one Hietesh Shridhar who had just smsed me some advice—“Don’t think twice before doing a good deed!” And for some reason these words were triumphantly playing in my head when I was trying to defend myself to the shocked little Bulbul-Voice who was making horrified noises in my head while I was buying a frappe, pouring it into a saucer and running after a kitten in the lounge of Indira Gandhi Airport, New Delhi, at 1900 hours on the 30th of May 2007.
I must’ve looked mighty suspicious as I knelt on the floor near big baggage checking machines and peered under them, mewing softly to get the kitten to creep out or mew back. And if the guys who had to do my security check after this episode had seen me, I’d have had to answer some rather embarrassing questions. But all those if’s could wait until a hungry kitten got something to eat.
I was following that little thing all over the airport with a saucer full of cold coffee in my hand, a heavy laptop slung over my shoulder with a leather pouch holding my never-to-be-left alone passport strapped to it, bouncing off the floor behind me as it tried to keep up. She would sniff curiously and cautiously approach the big machines doing maintenance work in the airport lounge, then scramble away, skidding on the smooth floor, if the machines made the tiniest rumble. It was cute!
This little game of chase was amusing not just the vendors of all the little food booths but also the passengers now. Then suddenly, as if by magic, the little kitten disappeared somewhere in the customs area. There was a room I suspected she’d gone into. But I couldn’t go in to check because some big-shot officials seem to be in there enjoying a cup of tea and a hearty chat.
Mom had warned me in grave tones to stay away from Afros, rednecks and “Indians who act funny and give us all a bad name”. I probably qualified as a “bad influence” with all those antics! And I never got to feed the kitten after all.
But IF I’d been able to corner her, feed her, maybe even pet her, I’m proud to say that I’d already have a name ready for the amazing kitten who’s cleared all the stringent checks—the baggage check, the grilling immigration check and the ticket check—and now roams free, living off the tasty morsels she finds lying around. Her luggage is probably checked in and on its way to some mysterious land—but she couldn’t be bothered. She’d rather hang out at an international airport and satisfy her curiosity about airline meals, flight attendants and duty-free shops. She’d rather give you a hard time when you try to be nice to her and disappear into thin air at the least signs of pursuit. She’d rather captivate you with big green eyes until you’re charmed into believing that this little creature needs you to run after her and feed her something nice.
For such a precocious, lively and bewitching kitten, what better name than ‘Magic’!
5 comments:
oh don't worry, i'll look Magic up the next time i get down there. and.. get a bigger diary!
seriously, this was one of the things that i wish you could add to your menagerie book!
:D
you're soo.....YOU!!!
NEVER change.
menagerie book?
mischief managed
did scooby finally manage to make you read the potters?
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