Some of my most memorable memories growing up were our travels back to India.
It involved about 1 month of preparations before the actual day of travel, during which we shopped till we dropped almost everyday. We would shop for ourselves, our relatives and every Tom, Dick and Harry we knew in Goa.
I was the most happiest then coz I was getting a chance to be back in my old beloved motherland, My Goa.
I missed Goa, the land where I was born, the place where I was the pampered baby among my many cousins. The place where my grandmother was anxiously waiting for me, her pet.
Now years have passed, I’m not the pampered baby anymore, my grandmother is no longer with us, but I still get excited to go back to Goa and by default have that moment of sadness when I leave her, but the promise that I’ll be back always suppresses my sadness.
The flights taking me to and fro always have me thinking or in deep sleep.
Thinking about my future. Thinking on ways to strangle the ever talking person sitting next to me. Thinking about the people in the plane with me. Thinking about the people I’m leaving behind. So much thinking…
Some drastic thinking involves me trying to figure out how to get out of the flight in case of some emergency. 😄