Posted by: Prem Piyush | May 30, 2007

Flying High


Last year, I was returning back to Bangalore. That was my second air-travel ever. The plane was getting ready for the landing. It was hovering on the morning sky. From ‘my’ seat no. 23-A, I looked down the earth, whole Bangalore city looked like a densely dotted grey painting just like Kolkata and Chennai cities.

The plane was getting down to the lower altitude.

The ‘Bangalore’ started looking like a more clear painting than before. The roads were clear, so did the lakes and small forests, and the buildings. I was searching for my locality area or some known big building –‘where do I belong?’ I could not locate them.

Within few minutes – the airport was clearly visible. I felt happy – yeah this is ‘our’ airport. The plane landed on the airport. To be exact, on the earth – where we creature do take birth, eat, sleep, defend, mate and die.

Though it’s different fact that from the Boeing-737, I came out as another man (like thousands of software engineers coming down daily on this airport). But I felt – “Yeah! I am an air traveler now onwards”.

At the airport, I took an auto rickshaw. Passing by the town roads, I was looking towards the corporate buildings, hundreds of flats, houses. Did each occupant feel them, as their own house? Does my house is like just one another one!

As my house was approaching – from distance, I saw – still it looked like a small building. My flower pots were looking like tiny cups. From there, flowers in the pots were not visible at all.

I reached my gate.

Nah! My Earth – My Bangalore – My Airport – My Area – My House – My flower pots and of course I, myself can’t be so small.

I came down the auto rickshaw – and placed the luggage in front of my gate. Paying the auto rickshaw fare, I opened the door of my house, and kept the luggage inside.

I was inside my house, even if it’s rented. I closed the door from inside – I encapsulated myself. The light green walls, the big doors – every thing big! The 2BHK house, neatly kept, well arranged. And to mention there was a big rose flower too in the pot. I was inside my own space – I felt big.

The higher the altitude, the boundary less space, I floated – I felt smaller. The smaller space I encapsulated – I felt bigger – Really Bigger.

Own space is must for each of us as well as the need of flying on higher altitude. Living in the both places, and in matter of myself, to ask honestly, which one I loved most – to feel smaller or to feel bigger?

I guess the former, when I did feel small – really small, inside the plane – floating like an elemental point on the higher altitude – leaving everything – at the mercy of the Almighty.

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