One Flew Over The Cotton Clouds

As my William Dalrymple lay prostrate in the seat pocket in front of me, the guy sitting one row in front to my right asks for a Ballantine's, inspiring me enough to request one - actually two - for myself. Little did I know that after 1 and a half glasses of it, I would be tipsy enough to write this post from 10 thousand metres above the earth.

Flying somewhere over Afghanistan

But, I have just been interrupted by the flight steward - wish he was hotter - who asked me the very Indian question of "Veg or Non-Veg" before inserting the vegetarian food plate gently into my line of sight ( puns, my friend are always intended - always ). This was the moment when I decided to take a break from writing. You can be sure that the text after this sentence was written after consuming a vegetarian meal somewhere over the Atlantic.

In the middle of the meal I was interrupted by the melodious voice of a guy singing - " Pehchaante Hi Nahi Ab Log Tanha Tumhe..." - into my earphones. The Hindi song made me think, and think hard, who exactly it was meant for. 

By this time I was drunk with 2 glasses of Ballentine's. This was my first time drunk on a flight, and all it made me think was why I had not done it before. And at that precise moment I decided to keep down my phone to focus on my food which is clearer in the pic above than it was to my hazy eyes. What that means for my mostly non-existent readers? Well, it just means that the next set of thoughts would be thoughts I had after I had my dinner.

Also, a question for you guys : does my writing differ between when I am drunk and when I am not? Anyways, I now end this paragraph as we fly further east across the Atlantic Ocean, headed eventually towards my home in India. I will now eat my food before it becomes stone-cold.

The delicious food they served. Too bad i missed tasting the dessert! Sigh!

Being drunk on a long flight is by far the best thing one could do. I say this as the South Indian lady to my right thinks I have gone bonkers after my 2 glasses of "coke". Little did she know that the glasses of coke were much more than glasses of coke. Guys, I am taking a break once again to take care of the food lying on my table, before the airline staff goes mad at me for not eating my food on time-yes, that actually happens, I guess. So, the forthcoming break is for me to finish up my food. For the information of my readers, I am quite a bit drunk, and quite a bit short of finishing my meal at 2.38AM IST / 5.08PM EDT. What this oddly timed meal means is a question I am desperate to answer, if only I had the answer myself. I write that as the women in my earphones sings, " Make You Love Me".

The oddly timed meal is deep inside me now. Just as I have composed myself to write this second sentence of the paragraph, I realise that it is time for me take a good sleep, for it is almost 3AM IST. Whatever follows this sentence in this post would be the thoughts I wrote after taking a good sleep in this New Delhi bound flight, now heading towards Europe.

One of my two companions for the flight!

So, yes, the alcohol did leave my system sooner than I expected. I am sober now, and wondering if the preceding paragraphs revealed too much of my state of inebriation. It is now 11.10AM IST / 1.40AM EDT. I am far away from New York and just about 3 hours from New Delhi.

As I continue to read William Dalrymple masterfully guiding me through the intricacies of the revolt of 1857, I wonder if I am going closer to or farther away from home. It's a question so deep it makes me shudder. But the fact that such a question makes it to this post itself says a lot about the changing dynamics of the past 6 months.

As I grab a glass of water and some cookies from the pantry area to my front left, and as I observe the sexagenarian Sardarji ( it's amazing how close this set of words sounds to "the sexy Sardarji" ) standing there, I think of New Delhi, the place I was born. 

And as I think of New Delhi, I read of it too. 

It is at the heart of the book that lies on my lap and, i think, at the heart of me too.