The Stopover - Part 1

Whenever I visit Kolkata, I have to spend some hours at Chennai airport to board the connecting flight. Same happens when I return to Trivandrum. Every time I stop over at Chennai, I meet someone significantly memorable. Each of these characters are/were interesting in their own way.


In April 2008, I was supposed to take a 5:30 AM flight to Kolkata. I stepped into Chennai airport at around 10:30 PM along with co-worker and co-passenger Sajal (affectionately nicknamed Bihari).


Killing 7 hours was no small deal. Those being the wee hours, number of people in airport (read air-hostesses and gorgous airline staff) was hopelessly low. Laptop was loaded with movie but none of the charging points were functioning. The Higginbotham's bookshop was closed and book is one item which can not be window shopped. The last known saviour in such a circumstance- a brimming cup of hot coffee - could not be purchased as the Wings snack bar closed at 10:30.


Into the airport came a guy in his late 20s, with a very bong-ish face. Unshaven, unslept, crumpled casuals and a laptop bag hanging from his shoulder. This guy too got very frustrated after a fruitless search for a fully-functional charging point for his laptop and finally vented out his disappointment in words nostalgically familiar: "Dhur bNara!"

I called out to this tired soul -"Bangali? None of the charging points have power. Just like Kolkata airport" . Traditionally, Bengalis tend to gel with strangers better if there is a common issue to grieve/complain/bark about. If you are aiming to repel a true-blue bong, try positive vibes. This guy (his name was Saptarshi)- likewise - spontenously struck up a conversation with me about all things bad about Chennai and Kolkata, then expanded his scope to India, the subcontinent etc.

Before he could proceed any further, Bihari headed for the loo. Now, Bihari's denim trousers had something embroidered on a very strategic location. Saptarshi'e eyes got suddenly glued to the trouser and he asked me with a very perplexed look "Why is 'REPLAY' written on his bum?" Honestly, I did not have any explanation to offer other than a dry smile.

Soon after, we decided to swap movies from laptops. While my OS was coming to life, my co-passenger looked around and whispered "Buddy, got porn?" Unfortunately, I did not. I gave him Seven Samurai, The Bong Connection and Om Shanti Om while he shared Fahrenheit 9/11 and some other movie which I fail to recall. This guy was a software pro, middle manager in one of India's 4 then-biggest IT giants. Like a quintessential perennially homesick bong, he advised me to gather 2 years of experience and return to Kolkata ASAP. As the Schedule Display started flashing 'Security check' for Indigo flight to Kolkata, we parted ways. Saptarshi was going to Guwahati and had 2 more hours to spend.

We rolled our luggage towards Scan, my friend settled himself well in his seat, preparing for a nap.