Our elderly lady had taken an instant liking to me and became very garrulous and intrusive. Like all Indians that have not been acculturated by Western norms on social filters and parameters which I had become accustomed to and adopted since it suited my introverted nature, she was oblivious to my need for personal space. Although, I put up walls by composing a very cool demeanor and opened my book and started reading, it did not deter her for long. I could feel her big eyes penetrating my profile and did my best not to twitch. Predictably, I felt a hand reach over the aisle and prod my arms. Thus began a series of interruptions and inane conversations,
"What time is it?"
"4:30 p.m."
"When will we reach?"
"In 14 hours."
"What is your name?"
"Asha."
My turn, "what is your name?"
"Shyama." (I think is what she said, I was done with my questions and settled into her inquisitions)
"Where are you going?"
"Kerala."
"Where in Kerala?"
"Trissur."
"What is your family name?"
"Ellamana."
"How much longer?"
"13 hours and 55 minutes."
"Why are you going?"
"To visit."
"Who are you visiting?"
"Family."
"Who?"
My husband, extroverted by nature, became very happy with all the stirring conversation in loud Malayalam that he sat up, leaned over me, pushing me into my seat and interjected information which I did not wish to divulge.
"We are going to see her brother. We have a flat in Kerala. We were in India six months back. Our sons both got married this year, she retired. I am retired also but I still work. We have time to travel now."
At some point, my darling realized the lady was not that interested and had succumbed to some internal thoughts of her own and was fading away. That was confirmed when she turned her gaze away from us and began rustling through her handbag which she picked up from between her legs on the floor. I heaved a sigh of relief and left her to it. But not for long,
A few pages in, I felt eyes staring at me and the prod again to my arm. Composing my features into kindness, I looked at her expectantly...
What time is it?"
"5:00 p.m."
"When will we reach?"
"In 13.5 hours."
"I don’t like the U.S."
Courtesy demanded I reciprocate and feign interest.
"Oh why?"
"Nothing to do; My daughter is a nurse."
"Oh!"
"We sat at home all day, she was working."
"Oh!"
Giresh leaned over, "where does your daughter live?"
"Los Angeles."
"We live in Long Beach."
No comprehension there, my husband resolutely plowed on: "How long has she been there?"
"9 years."
"Is this your first time to Los Angeles?"
"No, I came 9 years ago. Didn’t like it then and don’t like it now. Nothing to do."
"What do you do in Kerala?"
No answer just a blank stare. Undeterred Giresh continued.
"Where are you going?"
"Idukki."
"Where in Idukki?"
She mentioned some town that I did not get.
"What does your husband do?"
"Krishi." (farming)
She began to fade again and I let out a breath I did not know I had been holding for so long. I pushed my husband back into his seat and tried to settle in again.
There was a brief reprieve as the cabin got busy with the stewardesses preparing for dinner and Shyama’s efforts focused on communicating with the ladies that she wanted “Chaaya” . With that going nowhere, both parties looked expectantly at me to resolve the issue and I muttered that she wanted tea, to which the stewardess promptly replied that tea was not being served then and she would have to wait. I think Shyama waited all through the flight, I don’t recall her drinking any tea. She settled for a cola and proceeded to ask me to select a meal for her. It was interesting to watch her husband take no part in any of this. He seemed lost in his world and looked a lot like my dad who periodically wore an all suffering look when my mom became unreasonable.
