Readers – will you join me at A Life Overseas today where I write about waiting?
It’s 2am in the Mumbai Airport. I am in the domestic terminal and the airport is quiet. Outside the sky is dark and the open doors reveal small restaurants; some closed, others open with minimal food and one lone employee to serve customers who happen by at that hour. We arrived here at midnight and it’s still three hours before we catch our flight to Goa. What we don’t know now is that we will miss that flight.
At the door the guard’s sleepy eyes belie his quick responses, for some people in our group have already tested this. His high turban is immaculate and a thick silver Sikh bracelet falls heavy across his arm.
Other passengers are scattered in the two seating areas, either in semi-sleep or randomly observing their surroundings with the resigned expressions of travelers in transit, travelers who are between worlds, the limbo world of the ’not yet arrived’.
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