14 Hours In A Plane

India Day 9.5 to 10

 After lunch at the Samode Palace our group (30 of us) convened in the Palace’s courtyard to bid goodbye to our beloved Mr. Singh.  He would not be returning to Delhi with us because 1) he lives in Jaipur and 2) the tour ended in Delhi. 

 He said all the proper things about enjoying being our guide through India and how much he enjoyed our company.  And we all responded with predictable but sincere appreciation for how he made our trip the fabulous and interesting adventure it was.  Mr. Singh, ever the reserved and eloquent Brahmin, bowed to us, got into his SUV and made his way back to the Pink City.

 We lumbered back on board our red “Tourist” bus and headed back to Delhi.  The trip took about 6 hours and most of us slept or read or listened to Ipods or just stared out the window.  Because of Mr. Singh, we now knew that the green fields had just been planted with millet, that the men in turbans were Sikhs and the ones in caps were Muslims.  Tales of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata floated in and out as we passed shrines to Shiva, shrines to Vishnu, and the ever present statutes of Ganesha over the doorway to every shop and restaurant. 

 The closer we got to Delhi, the heavier and slower the traffic became, and the heavier and smokier the air became.  We passed the Delhi at dusk and could barely make out the landing strip even though it was lined with lights, due to the now familiar smog that hung not just in the air, but seemed to swallow it.

 Of the 30 in our group, a few had flights that were leaving at 8 PM, but most of us were on the midnight flight.  The kind people at the Oberoi let us have our rooms until it was time to head to the airport.  This allowed us to shower, eat a nice dinner, and then leave.

 The scene at the Delhi airport was pure madness.  Lines and shoving and people trying to budge up in the queue and irate queue standers shoving them back where they belonged.

 Security was tight due to the Mushareff mess in neighboring Pakistan, so we had to go through the same security check three times in the space of 20 yards.  Despite being at the airport 3 hours before our flight time, we barely made it.

 The plane was packed, as usual, but I simply put on my headphones, eye mask and cuddled up in my blanket and made the best of it.

 I remember feeling intensely tired, intensely uncomfortable and intensely happy that we were headed home.  I would wake up periodically from some sort of semi-unconscious state, look at the monitor, notice that the white  plane that represented us, and our progress through space and time, was now flying north of Greece, then through Russia, then south of Greenland, then….

 Fifteen and a half hours later, we landed in Newark.  It was 4 AM.  We found coffee and marveled at everything: auto-flush toilets, fresh fruit that we could eat, no one begging or trying to sell us Kama Sutra playing cards for “Only 500 rupees!!!! Pleeese Madam!”  The floors of the airport were shiny.  Men walked around in suits with those adorable little Bluetooth things in their ears talking to themselves. 

 I bought a USA Today, but didn’t read it.  I sat at the gate and stared at everything as if I had never been in an airport before.  It was a miracle.  But I still smelled like Delhi.

 Our little puddle-jumper flight to Rochester was filled with freshly shaven and sweet smelling businessmen fumbling with paperwork.  The chirpy flight attendant gave us a dirty look when we put on our headphones and eye masks and tried to sleep.  I thought to myself, “Go to hell, bitch, “ and smiled.  Ahh, it was good to be back in America….