An Hour of Penance

Settling into my seat by the window, I was frustrated and irked. The flight from Singapore to Kochi, seemed like the last 100 meters of a long marathon I longed to finish. It seemed long enough for many reasons, for it would be more than six months I had been away from dear ones, and it was more becoming an incidental habit. My leaves were cancelled earlier in the year for want of serving the capital interests of the multinational conglomerate that demanded all hands on board for their champion project, One that was bleeding dry, every one who was a part of it. Stress levels were so high at work that each week brought in new faces as there were more people getting sucked into this black hole of madness of a project that never saw land Ahoy…Those who couldn’t take it anymore moved out or gave up which brought in more fresh hands which served alone to add to the misery… Revised deadlines and new milestones and uncertainty had become commonplace, and no one knew what to expect. My manager had thus approved my leaves on condition, that if the above dozen deliverables could be met within the following weeks, then yes you can have a vacation. A kind gesture he very well knew would never materialize for hundred reasons unknown to himself.

But God was kind enough, over the past two weeks I saw things fall into place like I had wanted to, and I decided to get the first flight out of Melbourne. This left me just a couple of days to gather myself, pack up and fly out to freedom from the relentless drudgery for at least a fortnight. I scurried around the city, shopping to make up the list I had in mind, filling my bags with all I could. When it came to wine, I paused to take my time. Picked a couple of my favorite blends before calling it a day.

After six hours of transit, filled in with some sight seeing and more shopping I was eager to get on that plane that would take me home from Changi airport. I was back an hour before the boarding time, and had already started counting minutes when I got to know the flight was delayed for an hour. Another hour went by not really listening to music anymore which itself felt like a chore. After more than eight hours of flying and a few more hours in transit I felt that I was still under the morbid spell of my workplace, which had its tentacles outstretched from a thousand miles across the ocean.

“Passengers boarding flight number MH… “ I did not hear the rest of the announcement and started moving towards the boarding queue that was slowly shaping up. Once inside the plane, my ireful gaze was met by an eager to please stewardess who approached earnestly, “what I can get, you sir? Beer, champagne or…. I interrupted “Scotch please, on ice and please make that a double”. I was convinced that, I deserved some unhealthy serving of alcohol to ease my frayed nerves. The flight interiors sported a Spartan design, with two big display screens on each side of the walls that formed the end of the fuselage behind the pilot’s cabin, which by the way was the only entertainment option unless you could bother to drag yourself through shopping magazines. Once the plane took off I settled down with my drink, not really caring for what was playing on the big screen up front. With no private consoles to preoccupy myself for the next few hours, I turned to my favorite game in my mobile, which was a simulation of the “Battle of Britain”

Soon I was racing over the English coast, pitting my spitfire against relentless hordes of Luftwaffe’s Messerschmitt. For the next few hours I was absorbed in pushing myself to the next levels, and after a lot of trials, I was there… at the threshold of glory, level 5. Now we were on the offensive over German mainland. I was doing great and my scores confirmed that I was an ace when suddenly I found myself out flanked by a wave of enemy fighters while trying to dodge a barrage of AA fire. Within no time I could see my spitfire go up in flames and screen gleamed “Game Over”. At that very moment the mobile battery gave away with a few beeps and the screen went blank, which felt like some dark omen. My eyes were weary and I was feeling haggard having indulged in that game for a while. I tried to relax but I was too excited to rest because in a few moments I would be home. I was saving all my energy till I would hit the bed after a hot shower, and then sleep my way to glory.

My watch said another few minutes to touchdown, but the plane showed no sign of descent. I looked out of the window in anticipation to see the city lights below, but all I could see was a thick black shroud of nimbus all over. A few more minutes passed by but there was no change in our surroundings or altitude. We were still way too high up to land any time soon. I was getting weary as I could see bolts of lightning crackling through the clouds at a distance. This was not going to be a pleasant ride I said to myself. The weather was getting rougher by the minute and soon I could see jolts of lightning all over. I decided not to look outside and turned over to see how my co passengers were coping. Many were asleep and some were totally ignorant to the fact that we had run into some real bad weather. Unless you really wanted to know what was happening, everything seemed all right. I couldn’t resist myself to peek through the window and every time I did that, it kept my pulse raising. “Oh God, are we into some serious trouble?”. I began to relive those air crash stories I had seen on national geographic and these thoughts were really pushing me over the edge. I decided to act normal and pulled down the window blinds and decided to distract myself. All the travel and the latest excitement had taken a toll, and my energy levels were at a depressing low. I felt drained out and every other minute onboard was turning out to be an excruciating experience.

My anxiety got the better of me and, I opened the blinds to see how we were faring. What I saw next had my heart in my throat. I could see sparks flying off the wing tip and it was raining hard. I thought to myself that I was getting fooled into having delusions out of my own imagination. This couldn’t be happening… I shut my eyes and told myself. But every time I looked outside I could see sparks fly off the wind tip and white streaks of lightning all around with a devilish grin.

“O God, don’t you think I am too young to die?” I started praying with all the purity I could muster. Please God…. It cannot end this way it doesn’t seem fair. Then I had a pricking though that made me look back and reflect all through the way. Have I been fair to God all along? The answer was NO! It was ordained that the faithful shall not drink, never be inebriated or even consume the miniscule drop of anything that may be intoxicating.



God, I have failed myself, and you with my ways and I am really sorry for it. I was trying to be as pious as possible in those last few moments I had left in this world… so I thought. I was too scared even to talk to anyone, let alone reveal the panic and fear that was tearing me apart. It has been more than sixty minutes past the regular flying time and I could slowly see some weary faces across the aisle. So it wasn’t just me. There were a few others who felt the same. But still there were no announcements from the cockpit and the stewardesses were all out of sight. I decided to keep praying to God in the best way I could, asking for all the help I could get now. I felt guilty over the double scotch I just gulped a few hours ago and cursed myself for indulging in it, something I could have easily spared.

A few more terrible minutes passed until the speakers blared, “ Dear passengers, thank you for your patience, as you know we have been experiencing some very rough weather, I glad to announce that we finally have instructions to prepare for landing”. Those words felt like gospel, as if it was God himself telling me that I was spared this time. I thanked God a million times before bracing my seat belt for the landing. Soon the plane was on descent swooping down onto the tarmac like an eagle that had waited long enough for its prey. It was an ecstatic feeling when I felt the rubber hit the tarmac before pulling the breaks. Terra firma….! At last. Captain’s voice beamed again… “ and thank you for flying with us, have a pleasant evening”. I should thank you Capitanoo… A few more minutes like this, and I would have definitely spared your toilet, I smiled to myself with gleeful relief.

There I was back to the country where I truly belong, pushing through the mad chaos to get to my luggage. I was more eager to know the spate of my favorite wine bottles as I was collecting my bags. A great blend of deep red…. Cabernet Sauvignon, and that too… a good year!