The Third Time

 

The gratitude I feel for what life has given me is indescribable. Imagining a dream dreamt more than 50 years back coming true yet again for the Third time. I was in Switzerland once more.

Every time we fly to meet Vidisha and Khush in Switzerland the feeling is different. The first time it was of great excitement. We were going to her the first time after her marriage and to her home. Add to it was the chaos of the pandemic. It was also our first time in Business Class, first time to Europe… so many firsts. 

The second time it was kind of different. Probably we felt proud, privileged and snooty. Going on a two month holiday to Switzerland. A big trip to Italy and a solo trip to Berlin was already planned. The Premium Economy was kind of OK but going back to a known place was different.

Now we are on our Third Trip. As we were discussing before the flight, it is more like “Ah! I hope there is not too much rush in Immigration at Paris” The kids had upgraded our Premium Economy seats to Business Class. The awestruck feeling was not there. We knew where the headphones and water bottle was kept in the small stowage in the side of the seat. Before even the flight pushed back I was already watching a movie. The excitement to look out of the window as the plane took off, looking at the world map on the big screen to see where we had reached or even the glee of having the champagne offered seemed to be missing. 

I asked for a Whisky and sipped it neat. A couple of hours into the flight decided that it was time to sleep. My body said it was 4 am and it needed rest. Then dawned the luxury that life was affording us. Just on a press of a button the seat just started sliding under me and in a smooth motion it became a full fledged bed. I put my head on the soft pillow , covered myself with the cosy blanket and went to sleep. Probably my snores disturbed the baby in the adjacent seat and it cried off and on, waking me up occasionally. I woke up groggily with a gray and cloudy dawn breaking outside’s. My body said it was 10 am and the Screen in front of me said 6.30 am. The concept of Time always confuses me as we travel across the globe. I keep wondering how does one know the time in outer space where one has a black sky and the sun just shines always. Anyway I am digressing. 

Getting an empty toilet at that time is well impossible. We stand outside a toilet waiting for the sound of whoosh of the flush as the person occupying it finishes the big job and hope that the toilet is left clean - Yuck. Finishing the ablutions waited for the breakfast to be served. It was kind of the most pathetic South Indian stuff I have had. Two small Kancheepuram idlis which were hard as land mines, two pieces of uthappam which I thought was Bruschetta pieces and Sambar which looked like thick gravy dal was what we got. I liberally spread Amul butter on the Bruschetta - sorry Uthappam, stuffed the idlis, enjoyed the thick Amul curd and fruit salad and drowned it all down with luke warm black coffee. The announcements of descent into Paris kept disturbing the movie I was watching but I persisted even after the thump of the wheels hitting the runway told me we had landed in Charles De Gaulle airport. We kept taxiing for another 15 mins before the pilot announced that we had finally reached the gates. 

After the customary Bonjours and Merci Beaucoup exchanges with the cabin staff, we exited through the aero bridge into the giant CDG airport. Being on the crossroads of Europe it was teeming with passengers. We needed to go from Terminal 2E to 2F. Through endless passages, escalators and turns we reached the small station in 2E from where we had to take the driverless small metro across to 2F. The short 3 minute ride brought us to 2F. Thanks to the Priority accorded to Business Class passengers we got into the short security line. After a very long time I saw a security staff who smiled. He asked me whether there were any liquids I was carrying and then humorously and in a hushed tone he says  pointing with his right thumb to his mouth “No liquid at all” and gave me a big smile. We passed through security in a breeze and rushed directly into the mad rush of the immigration manned by the Border Police. If we think we have crowds in Indian airports, this was the Kumbh Mela. One could see People of all nationalities, talking in so many languages and of course the Smart asses trying to break the queue by going under the separation tapes. With only 4 counters and over 300 passengers it was maddening and slow. 

It has always been a strange thing that Vijaya, my wife seems to always be stopped for the silliest things at most of the international airports. Her Mangalsutra, her bangles and twice, they have wiped her fingers with some paper to test. Probably there think she is some kind of an international boss woman - they are right though :-). It was the limit this time. Finally, as we both approached different counters at the immigration my passport was taken, scanned and my photo clicked and I was out in about 1 minute. I noticed that Vijaya was making some gestures with her hand as if asking why. Then she dug into her bag, took out some papers and showed and by then having been married for so long I realised that she is going to blow. She was looking around for me but I had already crossed over the border control. She asked me for the invitation letter sent by our daughter. I was shocked since that was the letter which had got us the visa in the first place. A minute later it looked as if she was going to strangle the immigration guy with her eyes narrowed as if asking who in the hell he was. Suddenly the gate opened and she crossed over and then swore for about 2 minutes continuously as to how the guy had the audacity to ask her for her credit card and check how much money she had as if she was…… anyway I am not ready to type what all she said. We then strolled to Terminal 2F like seasoned passengers that we were. This was our third time remember. Sat in a Starbucks and had some coffee and hot chocolate and then waited near the gate more than 2 hours before the flight was to take off. 

Airports are great places to study human emotions. In a tiny captive world we get to see people from all over the world, different colours, languages and ages. Tired young mothers carrying their babies, old folks walking with their support smiling at everyone giving them way, rushing young corporate guys jostling everyone as they rush to their gates since they seem to be late for the flight, tourists with worried faces looking at departure boards displaying flight details in a language they probably don’t understand, weary travellers still working on their laptops on their way probably to another meeting in another city in another country, raucous and loud teenagers with little care about the world around them laughing away, anxious fathers dragging their brood of young kids waiting to be the first to enter the flight and many many more. I am pretty sure there would have been someone like me watching me and imagining about who and what I was. This world is so beautiful. 

Our plane was an Airbus 220, the first time I have flown in it. It has two seats on one side and three on the other. A smooth takeoff, a wonderful cucumber sandwich and a coke and 50 minutes later, we curved over Lake Geneva on the final approach to city with the same name. Our destination. We landed at 1.50pm local time, quickly disembarked  and thanks to the priority tag, saw our luggage coming out of the cave on the conveyor belt, picked it up and rushed to the exit. A gush of happiness spread over me as we saw our daughter with a big smile and wide open arms waiting to receive us. The gratitude I felt for what life has given me is indescribable. Imagining a dream dreamt since more than 5 decades coming true yet again for the Third time. I was in Switzerland again.

Lake Geneva with Lausanne in the far distance and the Morges Clock Tower in the foreground