INDIA’S TOP 5 MILLENNIAL WRITERS CONTRIBUTE

A FUN SHORT

STORY IN 100 WORDS!

SCAN BELOW

He was all of 40 and had seen his fair share of troubles, but even then, a few expletives hurled at him by an adjacent biker at the traffic signal were enough to ruin his day. So much so that he did not even enjoy his daily ritual of trolling celebrities and politicians on social media during his smoke breaks.

THE TROLL

DÉJÀ VU

A RARE FIND

THE BREAK-UP

She had been here, before. She knew. And yet, the familiar un-surety faded away the minute she looked up. ‘Have we met before?’ She wiped her lips. ‘You mean now?’ she whispered. Cheating herself.

And, time.

The silence of the bookstore was briefly punctured.

I looked up and the sound was gone. A little later, I heard it again. I traced the sound to the back alley of the bookstore no one went to. There was this girl reading a book, crying. A book untouched for years. Finally, I had found a reader who had found me.

It took just 30 seconds. ‘Here are your clothes,’ she said, handing him the bag. ‘Here are your keys,’ he said, plonking them on her palm. ‘Goodbye,’ she said softly as he left. ‘Good riddance,’ he called out from the door. It took all her will power not to call him back. She hoped he would not notice that one of his old T-shirts was not in the bag.

HUNGER

I cut open my stomach and give it to my family. They refuse. Shed tears. I kick my son and slap my daughter. I curse my wife with her swollen belly. “All day you beg,” I shout at them, “yet everyday we starve?” “In this mad city money grows in tall buildings,” they cry. I’ll bring this money down, I vow, right here on this dirty pavement. My hand grips the knife. I know that I will cut someone; rob them of stomach and wallet. We will eat.

I wait.

It was a dark and stormy night. Hours earlier, I had been heartened by the empty check-in counters. The polite gentleman in charge asked whether I’d like to book the middle seat beside my travel companion. I said I wouldn’t mind that, betraying my rookie Covid-19 traveller status. “Certainly, ma’am. But you’ll need to wear a gown,” he offered. “But I haven’t carried my pearls,” I replied in my head; I hate it when Covid safety protocol is deflated by jokey rejoinders.

And so, settling for an aisle seat, I embarked on my most ambitious journey yet, as brave as Amelia Earhart and perhaps as doomed.

FAIRWEATHER SOCIALIST

Pulitzer-winning Katherine Boo’s Behind the Beautiful Forevers:

Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity captures my discomfort with the extravagance of Mumbai’s international airport well. But it took travelling in the middle of a pandemic, on one of the rainiest days in my city’s soaking wet history, to disabuse me of all such pretensions. Passing one ghostly airport vestibule after another, it was comforting to know that even though I could not drown my fears in a beer, I could buy a block-print kurta, yet another travel pillow

(that would undoubtedly hide from view at the very time it was needed), or even an overpriced, under-good coffee. These mirages of normalcy lulled me into a complacency that would soon be tested.

And then it happened; that thing Mumbai does. It takes all your romantic notions of chai and samosa, lilting songs and lovelorn sighs and throws them into a storm of Old Testament proportions. As the rain beat down on the glass windows of the boarding gate, separating would-be travellers from the tarmac, the messages began to pour in too. “Are flights taking off ?” “Have you boarded?” “Do you want to return home, instead?” But like all adventurers – and fools – it is impossible to turn back when all that stands between you and your mission is a sheet of glass and a cascade of water.

FOOD INSECURITY

As the hours rolled by, the rain raged on and flight information reduced to a trickle, I took great comfort in my usual travel dabba: methi rotis and aloo tikiyas, especially important at this uncertain time. The surreal experience of stepping out of your home for any significant period takes its toll, and airport food can make matters worse. Fishing out one’s travel snacks from bags that look like they’re holding forensic evidence – these are the not-meagre joys of contemporary travel.

Needless to say, much of one’s food insecurity stems from the no-eating-or-drinking-on-flight rule. The boarding gate, once an unremarkable portal, is now also the point at which one needs to collect a PPE kit. You can’t help but be thankful for the risks and care airlines and their crews are taking to ferry people to their loved ones. Pro tip: The face shield is protected with stickers on both sides that need to be pulled out before use. Do not, like me, suffer the humiliation of trying to look through the stickered haze, telling yourself it’s for the greater good.

ART THERAPY

Spending six hours at an airport in inclement weather, in addition to the Covid threat, is not what

I had hoped for when I dreamt of a change from my window-grilled existence. Confronted with this reality, there was nothing to do but hit the bookstore. Once the pilgrimage was done, it was time to take comfort in the oldest therapy there is. (Okay, maybe secondoldest.) Mumbai’s T2 boasts one of the biggest Indian art galleries in a public space, featuring artefacts like 17th century Nandi sculptures and contemporary collages from artists like Anjolie Ela Menon.

The art darshan not only calmed me, it also encouraged me to take some artistically framed pictures of empty conveyor belts below screaming billboards, that could well serve as the illustration for the dictionary entry: Instagram clichés.

As for the flight, it was empty-ish, smooth and eerie. I can’t decide which is worse: the synthetic smiles of harried cabin crew we’re all used to, or the masks that now obviate their need. With no food to be served or consumed, the journey was quiet – except when I sneezed about 14 consecutive times in the freezing air-conditioning, hoping against hope the sound was muffled by my mask and shield.

FISHING OUT ONE’S TRAVEL SNACKS FROM BAGS THAT LOOK LIKE THEY’RE HOLDING FORENSIC EVIDENCE – THESE ARE THE NOT-MEAGRE JOYS OF

CONTEMPORARY TRAVEL