Hey Stranger...
Frankfurt airport is always crowded. So every week when I had to get to Paris, my mind was always heavier than the luggage I dragged along. Thankfully they don’t ask to check in your mind.
When the first time I had to produce a credit card I didn't have, I really looked around in despair. 'No credit card' counter didn't exist.
That's when I met him. The guy who guides lost people to the right place. Only at the airport. Don’t ask for more than you can get.
Eyes do speak. When he asked me where I was going and I told him Paris, his eyes filled with longing for the place he'd left behind. How often he'd have heard of home and visited it more times than every aircraft that flew over him, to count that I didn’t know enough numbers.
When he asked me why I didn’t have a credit card, I wasn't offended as I wanted to, pretence to this invasion of private space. Too poor. We laughed. When I asked him how often he went home, he told me, not often enough. We laughed again, this time in sadness.
We became almost friends. A quick ticket to a queue isn't a crime among almost friends.
I met him every week after that. When eyes would search among unknown faces, he would always materialize by my side. 'Hey stranger'. I was the no-credit girl. Returning was never my forte.
And I'd tell him yet again how beautiful everything was back in a street he'd walked without realizing he'd be away. Back in a street where he hoped he'd go away from. Back in the street where he now wanted his feet touch.
So when the last time that I had to go away, I knew I wasn't to return. For at least a long while. And I brushed aside my fear of 'what-if' I didn't meet him to say goodbye. But as always, he came.
I told him I was going away. He signaled to his colleague he was taking a break. Pulling one of my now eager bags, we walked to a coffee bar. He told me he broke a rule that day. I never asked him what it was. That’s when we became friends.
When I stood uncertain of how to say goodbye, he put his arms around me. I broke a rule too. Arms went around.
Merry Christmas. I'd wished you last year.
Merry Christmas this year too. It comes again. Returning is characteristic of it.
Have a good year you all.
When the first time I had to produce a credit card I didn't have, I really looked around in despair. 'No credit card' counter didn't exist.
That's when I met him. The guy who guides lost people to the right place. Only at the airport. Don’t ask for more than you can get.
Eyes do speak. When he asked me where I was going and I told him Paris, his eyes filled with longing for the place he'd left behind. How often he'd have heard of home and visited it more times than every aircraft that flew over him, to count that I didn’t know enough numbers.
When he asked me why I didn’t have a credit card, I wasn't offended as I wanted to, pretence to this invasion of private space. Too poor. We laughed. When I asked him how often he went home, he told me, not often enough. We laughed again, this time in sadness.
We became almost friends. A quick ticket to a queue isn't a crime among almost friends.
I met him every week after that. When eyes would search among unknown faces, he would always materialize by my side. 'Hey stranger'. I was the no-credit girl. Returning was never my forte.
And I'd tell him yet again how beautiful everything was back in a street he'd walked without realizing he'd be away. Back in a street where he hoped he'd go away from. Back in the street where he now wanted his feet touch.
So when the last time that I had to go away, I knew I wasn't to return. For at least a long while. And I brushed aside my fear of 'what-if' I didn't meet him to say goodbye. But as always, he came.
I told him I was going away. He signaled to his colleague he was taking a break. Pulling one of my now eager bags, we walked to a coffee bar. He told me he broke a rule that day. I never asked him what it was. That’s when we became friends.
When I stood uncertain of how to say goodbye, he put his arms around me. I broke a rule too. Arms went around.
Merry Christmas. I'd wished you last year.
Merry Christmas this year too. It comes again. Returning is characteristic of it.
posted by Mrs. Dalloway | 8:45 PM
13 Comments:
I just wanted to be the first guy to comment on your blog in 2008.....yupie i did it. Now lemme read the post.
A Bright year to you too girl!!!
:) :)
loved this bit - "Returning is characteristic of it".
Keep Writing :)
may this year give you happy moments, often enough to share with us.
:)
happy new year
Hey wish you a great year ahead. Wanted to mail you. Do send me a test mail.
Hey stranger in Paris !
Simple story but very nice.
Gutes neues Jahr !!!
T.
Bonne année
I loved this one. The best you have written so far. It signifies loads of things and nothing bigger than the concept of 'rising in love'. I love you for that. Sujith
cela me rappel de la belle histoire d’amour du filme ‘Terminal’ de Spielberg…
Bien écrit!
Dear Poornima...excellent..like all U'r posts...very profound, poignant.
Happy New Year.
Punitha
hey sweetheart........
happy new year..........let this tear be blessed with many more amazing blogs frm ya
Mine too!!
hey,
you were too simple a person to carry pretense...but then there it was..a tad shady. waited for it.........no jostle..but no Q either..an arm full..sweet and warm. shall wait, cause they do return!!!
time is what makes us travel and time is relative...calendar is just a man-made marking......
.and for the first time....
the very best of the new year to you and your posts
a very happy new year to you too.I know it's a tad late,still there's a whole year ahead of us :)
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