Move, Actually

The first sip of the sour orange juice that the stewardess gave him, reminded him of the last visit to the land he was headed to. He had some compulsive taste-place associations. Jalebis reminded him of Hyderabad. Cup-O-Noodles reminded him of Japan, and sometimes, of the happy treks in the western ghats in Karnataka.And sour orange juice always transported him to the US. He couldn't help smiling at the title of the book he was reading. Rohinton Mistry's 'Such a long journey'.

He saw a middle aged couple from his land at the Heathrow airport, in transit. The man was wearing a Black T-shirt that said 'I heart New York' in White. And his wife was wearing a Grey T-shirt that said 'I heart New York' in Black. Very amusing it was, he thought, to see a couple wearing matching Tees at forty. At some point, he was looking forward to this move to the US. But when you look forward to something long enough, you cease to look forward to it. He had started making alternate plans that started to seem more appealing. Like moving to Bangalore. Bouldering and ultimate frisbee with K and crowd. Random treks, beer, and conversations with K. Hanging around friends/travel companions who'll have interesting tales to tell (of building a porn site, or the education system in Timbuktu, or how a kitchen cabinet is built with bare hands). And drinking with this friend who could break into a Lady Macbeth monologue in the middle of a drink, and make everyone in the bar look in their direction. But then a door to the US suddenly opened up. So he thought of surfing and community colleges and a shift to product engineering and hanging around sis and bil, and the money. Ofcourse the money he could make and the resultant time he could afford to be off work once back home, and do that year's travel around India atleast before 35. And so he boarded a plane to San Francisco. Still wondering if he should've tried moving to Bangalore instead. But he tells himself, that if things don't fall in place, he can always catch the next flight back home, and is already thinking of all the things he should be doing once he heads back home, Sikkim, to start with. He is probably just designed to live in transit.

So sharks, if any, in Santa cruz and Half moon bay, please be nice to him. And the happy harmless fishes of Thiruvanmayur, he wouldn't be gone for too long, so you'll get back the human feet to nibble at.