A small story that I hope will be featured in 'Tell Tales', a story forum in my division in Infosys
When I found out that I have to travel on official business to Mumbai last week, I was obviously nervous about that dreaded scourge, Swine Flu. But my nervousness was less about picking up a new ailment and more about an existing problem.
You see, my nose is not very travel friendly. Cursed with extreme sensitiveness, it acts as a sophisticated barometer-cum-thermometer. At the slightest change in pressure or temperature, I start off on a sneezing marathon, much to the irritation of my near and dear. My nose starts leaking like a tap and turns a beautiful orange-red color.
The problem was so acute that back in college, on dull afternoons, the common pastime for my half-witted hostel mates was to rush upon me unawares and tweak my nose hard. The resultant orchestra of sneezes was in some inexplicable way a big source of enjoyment for my juvenile friends.
Anyway, I was apprehensive about the prospect of sneezing away in a plane full of tightly packed passengers (please note, I am carefully avoiding the C___ word, no one can say I am Mr. Tharoor. I keep my beak clean when I twitter!).
Still, I hoped for the best and practiced deep breathing exercises, as I waited to embark (This prompted my wife to ask me why I was panting like a madman, but I didn’t care!). The first obstacle was those freezing coffins that airlines used as transit buses. For some obscure reason, the temperature in the bus is always at the lowest possible and the fan at the maximum, creating the effect of a gale in the Arctic. My nose perked up and twitched but mercifully stayed under control. Alas, not for too long, though.
As I came up to the smiling air hostess on the stairs, the first sneeze bubbled up and exploded. The welcome smile faltered, but stayed in place. They sure train their staff well! I sat in my seat and practiced some more deep breathing, but to no avail. The vagaries in temperature that my nose was subjected to were too much. As a last ditch attempt, I tried holding back several sneezes. You know how it is, you keep your mouth tightly shut, your eyes bulge and water and you feel like your head will explode as you make a ‘meow’ instead of a roar. But even the most polite man cannot do that for long, and out came the parade of sneezes in their full glory.
If looks can kill, I would have been a dead man. I collected glares from every direction and my weak smiles were coldly rebuffed. My co-passenger’s face was a mask of rage, although he probably was wishing it was a Swine-flu mask instead. I even saw him look contemplatively at the oxygen mask that the air-hostess held up during her safety demo. I tried consuming various things to see if I could stop the onslaught, but all I did was stuff myself.
After an interminable period (the plane of course had to hang around in Mumbai air space till it was late by half hour), the flight landed and I breathed the muggy air of Mumbai with relief as I emerged from the plane. What an ordeal!
So what is the moral of the story? Next time I travel, I will carry a placard saying ‘allergies please, not flu!’. Otherwise, I am open to suggestions!
