Home  
Slice of Split
Maiden Voyage
Many people came to see Aradhana off at the airport. Aasma and Amrita were there along with their husbands and in-laws as were Abhay, Gauri, and her father. Gauri’s kitty party friends and their big-girthed husbands came, as did her father’s employees. Added to the mix were a dozen friends from various stages of her life.
Gauri had insisted she eat some sweet yogurt, which was considered auspicious, before she left home. Now, as they made their way to the airport, she was paying the price for it. She desperately wanted to get inside and use the restroom, but it seemed that the goodbyes would be prolonged due to the fact that the entire contingent had bought the twenty-rupee tickets that would get them into the waiting area. That was as far as they were allowed to come—ticketing, baggage check, and security were on the other side of the metal railings. There was little point in actually buying the twenty rupees ticket but it made people feel connected for a bit longer.
There was no direct flight to Boston from Hyderabad. She would have to go to Mumbai, formerly called Bombay, and connect to a flight to Boston from there. She was dressed in a black and white double-breasted pantsuit with a black lapel. Gauri had had it customtailored for her but it fit awkwardly. She looked like a chef in a fancy restaurant who had accidentally grabbed part of a magician’s outfit. In her mind, the only piece missing was a hat and the rabbits coming out of it. The only consolation was that it seemed that almost every other passenger also thought that an international flight required formal attire. Evidently, they too were making their maiden voyage. That or they thought themselves and their business very important. There were a few who had made a concerted effort to look like they didn’t care. They were going back home, and they intended to dress that way. It appeared quite strange to Aradhana at that time that someone would deliberately dress shabbily in oversized or too-tight track suits.
Aradhana’s contingent was there well before the stipulated time. Gauri was afraid the baggage would be overweight and they would need to make alternate arrangements. Aradhana instructed that the goodbyes be expedited but the people who had traveled long and far would have none of it. Additionally, they weren’t planning to leave until they had consumed twenty rupees’ worth of air conditioning. Defeated, Aradhana decided to at least check her bags and then come back for the goodbyes. The airport was so small that the group behind the railing could observe the entire process.
The bags were forty kilograms overweight. Unless she paid a fine of one hundred and seventy five dollars, she couldn’t bring them on the plane. In her mind she cursed the lentils and spices liberally, but was a little more respectful about cursing Gauri even though she wanted to hurl the rice and flour across the railing. She couldn’t get over how much her family embarrassed her. They didn’t even consider that this was her first time flying abroad. Now people all through the airport were staring at her, or so it seemed to her. As she sized up the nicely-dressed lady behind the counter about how best to handle the oversized luggage issue, she was interrupted by one of the Kapoors loudly demanding in Hindi to know what happened. Great— and there’s the frosting on my burnt cake, thought Aradhana.
Gauri demanded the bags be brought back to her. It seemed like the whole airport was now focused on the Kapoors’ drama. What they did next Aradhana would never forget. Squatting down, Gauri laid the bags on the floor and opened them while the remaining contingent formed a circle around her advising her how to best lower the weight. When all of her belongings had been exposed—including her lingerie— Gauri took out a five-kilo bag of rice and flour and then transferred what seemed like fifteen kilos into Aradhana’s carry-on bag. She then stuffed Aradhana’s purse with underwear, handed her three heavy text books and wrapped the ugly oversized leather coat around her body. “Just shoot me, please,” Aradhana said loudly which seemed to amuse everyone. She, however, was not kidding.
As if her suit wasn’t bad enough, she was wearing a threekilogram leather jacket in what was thity degrees centigrade weather. She was instructed to keep the carry-on baggage close and try to hide it at the weigh-in counter. For what it was worth, their intense space management worked. The lady behind the counter looked amused, but not surprised as apparently the Kapoors were not the only ones who thought that purchases could not be made in America. The woman checked the bags in and gave Aradhana the okay signal. However, Aradhana was now carting along an overstuffed and heavy carry-on bag and a purse filled with panties. As far as she was concerned, it was a ridiculous load to be balancing, but she wasn’t going to put up a fight in front of all those people. Finally it was time for goodbyes. Time had flown during this fiasco, and she was now running late.
The goodbyes were rushed but she had to go through everyone one by one and say an appropriate farewell. This whole thing had exhausted and embarrassed her and she wanted to get as far away from them as possible. The goodbyes did not seem hard in the moment but as she walked away, she heard Gauri sobbing and her father chiding, “Not now.”
Once past the metal railings, she made her way to the restrooms and relieved herself of the spoonfuls of sweet yogurt that everyone insisted on feeding her after Gauri had fed her the first spoon. After that, it was time to start the journey, which was a brand new experience for Aradhana. Although she was twenty-one, she had never taken a flight alone, let alone gone on an international flight. She tried to look cool and immersed herself in The Bourne Identity by Robert Ludlum as she waited in Mumbai, but she was so excited that she could barely finish a page. Staring at the book, she imagined what it would all be like. Three times she fished out Priya Aunty’s address from her suit pocket. In case her host did not show up in Boston, she was to call the phone number immediately.
She barely ate or drank on the flight. Because she had been so busy for the last week, she had not talked to Nirman once. He knew she was coming, though, and seemed thrilled. She thought of little else but seeing him again. If the country would be only half as nice to her as it had been to him, she’d be happy. In three days it would be his birthday. She smiled as she remembered their first meeting on his birthday several years ago. She was making the trip sooner than necessary just to be closer to him on his birthday. She had butterflies in her stomach. She was flying Air France and the flight would stop some eight hours later in Paris. The cheap ticket that had been purchased required a six-hour layover at the Charles de Gaulle Airport.
The flight attendant spoke in French and then translated it into English and Hindi. Aradhana had been quite excited upon hearing they would be stopping in Paris. She had taken French in college and had been practicing very broken French and limited phrases with her friends ever since then. It was considered cool to say your hellos, goodbyes, and thank yous in French. In her mind she practiced “What time is it?,” “Where is the bathroom?,” and “When does the flight leave?” over and over; however, she was very upset when the flight attendant first spoke in French and she understood nothing other than “Welcome,” and “Have a good flight.” She realized she had never spoken to anyone in French who had an authentic accent before. All she had going for her during her wait in Paris was that she could read the signs.
Once they landed Aradhana moved about like someone in a druginduced state. A couple of people on the flight tried to befriend her but she had too much going on in her head to be social. They had been given breakfast and lunch coupons for the airport restaurant and she ate her petite dejeuner of orange juice and croissant. After that she went to the duty free shop and spent thirty-five dollars on Calvin Klein One cologne for Nirman. This was the first—and to her, very expensive, purchase in dollars she had ever made. She thought about it for a good two hours before buying it—smelling other colognes before deciding. Once she was done, she bought some lunch: a flavorless roasted vegetable sandwich that she doused in pepper and ketchup.
She chided herself for not eating her vegetarian meal on the plane. After being frisked through security and asked questions about her business in the United States, she found herself back on the plane. The final leg of the journey to the U.S. of A was now in motion. This time she was a little more relaxed and befriended the young blond French gentleman who took the seat next to her. She was pleased to learn in his broken and heavily accented English that he was going to visit his girlfriend who was studying at an American university. As they discussed France and India, she got to practice her French with him and was humbled by the fact that he responded politely to her questions about school, favorite foods, and hobbies even though she was sure her grammar was wrong. She was also surprised to find herself telling a stranger all about Nirman and her first trip abroad. She had been given clear instructions by Gauri to not let anyone know that this was her first trip, to keep her purse close, and to not talk to strange boys and yet she found herself breaking all the rules all at once.
At some point she didn’t even care as to whether her seatmate was interested. It just felt good to verbalize all her excitement. After their fulfilling conversation, a good Indian meal, a Hindi movie, and a couple of hours of sleep she was almost calm when the flight attendant announced “Bienvenue aux Etats Unis.”