If you are thinking this post is going to be about Jim Carrey, then you are wrong. I would like to write a post about his versatiility someday , but right now, it is all about me.
Just to make sure that I don’t start snorting and go “Oink, Oink” , I was asked to wear a mask by my near and dear during my flight trip from SFO to Banglore. Due to constant insistence by Paati K, Suresh went and bought some masks and I set out on my journey with much aplomb, thayir rice in one hand and pulikachal rice in the other,prepared and packed duly by my friend L. I felt like a school girl on the first day, especially when Arvind ,my neighbour dropped by ,just to send me off. On reaching the airport, seeing a full flight and no masks, I go, “Do I or don’t I”…Discarding all my apprehensions, keeping in mind my compromised immunity, I decided to wear the mask.When it comes to masks, there are two varieties, the surgical kind,
and the “Jai Bajarang Bali” kind,
. I was wearing the latter.
The flight was full of kids and I was seated in the last row, right next to the toilets. The kids had lotta fun and out went the cry, “There is Bala Hanuman in the last row.” I tried to pacify myself saying that it was the belt hanging in the side and not the mask. Keeping me company were the air hostesses , though wearing the surgical kind. The camouflage was too confusing.If I had to hear someone talking, I was removing the mask instead of the head phones. One might wonder what the use was, if you have to remove the mask everytime you talk to someone. I know, but I still wore it, all through the journey except ofcourse, when I was talking to my coughing neighbour in the plane.
On reaching India, the airport staff treated us like untouchables, all wearing masks, checking our temperature. Very ironical as I fall sick everytime I visit India and the elders have a good healthy time when they visit us.So far, not a single Oink from me and am getting geared for all the Dosas and Idlis. Jai ho!