Bon voyage

I love travelling, reading travel literature and watching travelogues. One of the matters I asked my better half prior to my marriage was, whether she liked travelling. But this time it is different. I was on my way to join my expecting beloved back home. I was having my morning bath when I received my mom’s call from home. Seeing my father’s mobile number on the caller ID early morning, I could guess that my wife was having pains of good news. Nothing good in life comes without pain. When we are born ,we cry and make our moms cry, we grow up by falling and getting up, the bruises of stones and scratches of thorns we cherish, our wisdom teeth erupts with pain and we toil and sweat to have a descent life. My mother told me that my wife was having pain, not sure whether it was a true labour pain, but they were going to take her for a checkup. That was the first time I realized what I was doing there. My wife was miles away bearing alone entire anxieties of birth giving and where is her partner who is supposed to support her on such occasions. I have been cramped in my working place frustrated, unable to think or act properly as my mind was far away at home. I had booked my ticket to travel two days later. I prayed for the best and left my room for the operation theatre where I had duty. I called my father and asked him to inform me immediately if the attending doctor said anything positive as there was a flight within three hours.

I avoided assisting any cases pose so that I could attend any call from home. After about two hours my father called to tell me it was false pains, however they advised to get admitted since the expected date of delivery was imminent. He reminded me not to get stressed as this was just a routine admission. I started thinking about my wife and her situation. Then I realized that it was a part of her agony that was distracting me from all my works for the last 2 weeks. I called my wife and told her that I was starting that night would join her the next day. The moment I made that decision the turbulent wind which disturbed my mind settled. Neither had I applied for leave, nor had I booked the bus or air ticket. But something inside was telling me that this was the right decision. My first reflex was to ask my junior to call his brother who was running a travel agency to check for flights to kerala from Delhi. Then I wrote my leave application and approached my head of department. He right away obliged and gave me permission to leave the operation theatre then and there. I told him that I was leaving only in the night, so it was alright for me to work today. I contacted a medical representative to arrange for a bus ticket from Chandigarh to Delhi as it was already for too late. By that time, my junior told me that there was direct flight to Cochin but it was too costly. There was another flight to Coimbatore which was much less and reached at the same time. After arriving at Coimbatore,I will have to travel by bus for about five hours to reach my destination. But I didn’t want to wait and risk my journey, so I told him to book the ticket right away. Meanwhile the medical representative called me and said that all the bus tickets to Delhi airport were booked. I told him to look for private buses, even though that meant that I would have to change bus from Delhi bus stand to airport. I had to meet my thesis guide as my thesis submission date was due after 5 days. I had already applied for an extension of 15 days. I left the operation theatre at 3 pm and went to meet her at the outpatient department. I was free by 4 pm and decided to do some shopping. I went to sector 15 to buy some sweets. I called my friend to confirm that he didn’t have any duty that night so that he could drop me at the bus station.

Fortunately, I had done much of my shopping, so I had just to pack my bags. Being the son of an NRI, packing was not a problem. I had watched how my uncle used to pack my father’s luggage. As a child, it was fascinating to see him working on the luggage, rolling them over the sturdy ropes. There was a particular method of tying ropes over bags. Each knot was connected to the other in such a way that when one loosens, the other tightens it. Or else, the tying was improper and may loosen any time. Each knot would be symmetrically aligned. In the end it was like the slogan of malabar gold, beauty meets quality. I packed the cardboard box, strapped them with tape and then with rope. By that time, the medical representative whom I had entrusted to buy my bus ticket called me saying that he had procured the bus ticket to the airport itself, but in black. Black is when buy something in an illegal way by giving more money. Fair enough in times of urgency, I didn’t mind.

It was already 7 pm and I was almost ready. Then I remembered that my wife had asked me to trim my beard before coming. It is wonderful to see how relationships could change people. I used to grow my beard so long as my hair, keep my wallet empty because of the laziness to go to the ATM, many times did the petrol tank of my scooter dry up and I had to leave my scooter road side and walk to the petrol station with a can to refill. I was careless and clumsy as a rabbit. But with my wife around I am extra careful, my wallet is always full and so is my petrol tank. Meanwhile I cancelled the ticket I had booked for 30th. I had some matters to settle before I leave, so I called some of my friends and seniors and informed them I was leaving. At around 10 pm I called my friend to pick me up for dinner. We had planned to go a hotel near the bus station so that It would be easy for me to board the bus. Another friend of mine also joined us to see me off. We went to hotel Jullundur, our usual meeting place where my friends booze and I have my usual mutton biriyani. We talked about many things from domestic to international issues. Both of them were of the notion that I would have a son for no specific reason. In fact, I too had a similar intuition.( My wife has not delivered when I write this ). I had developed the habit of predicting the sex of the child by looking at the appearance and behavior of the mother from my MBBS years. It was just like a hobby and I should say I have a 100% record so far. Please don’t torture the newcomer with your strictness, was my friend’s advice to me. They used to call me BSP, boring, strict and predictable. I was boring in the sense that I don’t get mixed with others so easily, I don’t entertain their booze and night parties and as they had personally admitted, they felt guilty while smoking or drinking in front of me. I was indeed strict in the sense that I never like to mix business with pleasure. I always reached on time for duties and expected others to do the same. I was sure very predictable. If my junior comes late for they were sure to answer to me. They could predict that with full confidence and be prepared to receive the torment. But I liked the way I am and they too acknowledged me. My friends were joking that I would refuse the child to be delivered earlier as the expected date was a week later. I finished my meals and as usual reminded them to complete their meals fast even though there was about half an hour for the bus and the bus stand was only 2 minutes walk from the hotel. They asked me to shut up and enjoy the meal even though they knew that I would remind them every 5 minutes.

I boarded the bus on time. They accompanied me to help with my luggage. They had even brought gifts for my child. That was something unexpected. I mocked at them asking since when were they so emotional and touchy. But they were like that. Even though they often reminded me of my dark side, they were there when I needed them. A friend in need is a friend indeed. As I was late in booking the tickets I got a back seat, but I didn’t mind as the road was good and it would require an earth quake to wake me up when I get into the sleep mode.

I had forgotten to keep the alarm, but my biological clock woke me up precisely .I entered the airport terminal. I hope all of you must have experienced this extra ordinary phenomenon of getting struck in the right moment. Well, I have experienced this several times as I am careless and my body has developed this defense mechanism. I had reached Delhi airport one hour earlier on purpose because in winter the fog was supposed to delay the traffic. But I had no problems this time. I sat there and waited among the anxious passengers. The lady at the boarding pass counter asked me which seat I preferred. I thought of it for a while as the last time I travelled with my wife, she wanted a window seat, but we didn’t get it. Now I am offered the pleasure of choosing one when I don’t need them. Well, this is life. Nevertheless I told her the window seat, even though it made no difference as I was sure to doze off the moment the flight took off. I had one more hour before I could board the plane. I had my breakfast at the “Vaango” restaurant. The name had always fascinated me. It means ‘Come’ in Tamil and was the perfect word to invite people to a place where they served Idli and dosa. A man was arguing with the cashier, why he was given only idli, when he had ordered idli and dosa. I sometimes felt that people need to ask the question “Now what “rather than persisting on “why”, which would avoid a lot of tension. He could have ordered another plate of dosa instead of getting into an altercation and spoiling the scene. After having the breakfast, I roamed around the waiting lobby, window shopping in the costly electronic and perfume shops, musing the aquarium fish. Last time, they had the clown fish, which is the prettiest fish I have ever seen. This time they have only parrot fishes and gouramies. As it was time for my morning prayer, I went to the prayer room. A middle aged man was already into his prayers, so I joined him. By the time I finished my prayers, the 16 No gate was open for the Indigo Flight to Coimbatore via Chennai.

I reached Coimbatore airport at 11 am. I went to the auto rickshaw stand to go to the bus stand. I vainly had a short bargain with the driver in my broken Tamil for charging me Rs 150. Neither did I impress upon him as a native, nor did he reduce the charge. I didn’t want to irritate him either as the Tamilians were already angry with us for the Mullaperiyar Dam issue. When I reached the bus depot I was happy to see three buses to my place. But my momentary elation vanished when I came to know that due to the attacks of Kerala State Bus Transport Buses by some of the natives, they have decided that all the buses would leave together with police escort only after 2 hours. When I used to see the news about the ageing Dam issue I never thought that I would be a part of its ill effects. I didn’t sleep during my bus journey, partly because I was afraid of any attacks from the natives and partly because my neighbor was interested in chit chatting. One thing about people is that when they come to know that you are a doctor, they ask about the illnesses that occurred to them during in their entire life. This person had questions regarding his jaundice which was cured 3 years back, the dandruff he had last year, his mother who died of uterine cancer 6 years back, his friend who died of leukemia 3 years ago ,his occasional weakness so on and so forth.

I reached Thrissur bus stand at about 4. 30 pm and took an auto rickshaw to the hospital where my wife was admitted. The driver started asking my whereabouts while taking me to my destination. I purposely avoided telling him my profession, but he skillfully took it out of my mouth. Then the predicted question comes, I have been having a pain in my left hand occasionally, I have been taking ayurvedic medicines without relief, could it be due to rheumatism? My first impulse was to tell him, you give me a free ride and I shall give you free advice, but I told him, “Sorry, I am an ENT specialist, wouldn’t know much about bones”. He looked at me surprised or dissatisfied as I was counting down the time left for me to join my beloved.

by the eldest son