Passenger from Frankfurt

Frankfurt 4.40 PM and the sun was already disappearing over the horizon. I looked at my watch incredulously. The days were so short here! I was filled with surprise.

On my way back from a cousin’s wedding in San Jose, I had boarded the plane after a well-deserved 90 minute break at Frankfurt. The flight from LA had been uneventful but the connecting flight from San Francisco before that couldn’t have been dubbed uneventful by any stretch of the imagination. The very thought of it gave me the creeps all over again…………………

That was on the 29th October, two days before we were scheduled to return to India from LA. Having gone to San Jose for a cousin’s wedding, we were all in high spirits most of the time-literally and figuratively. That day was particularly delightful as the bride was to come home and-like all marriages where one is on the groom’s side-there was an air of triumph, an unspoken exhilaration that stemmed from the fact that there was a new addition (acquisition??) to the family. The entire baraat was on cloud 9 as the bride and the groom started off, from SJ to San Francisco, in a spotless white limo, duly chaperoned by four little boys of all shapes and dispositions. The mood was festive, the colours we wore vibrant as we waited for the newly-wed couple to arrive
In short, God was in his heaven and all was right with the world.

We-my brother, sister-in-law, their kids, my sister and I- were in a bit of a tizzy as we had to be a part of the celebrations while keeping a furtive eye on the watch. Because we needed to catch the afternoon flight to LA and though suitably enthused by it all, couldn’t help experiencing slight trepidation each time we sneaked a glance at the watch and saw the hands crawl inexorably closer to departure time and the bridal limo still nowhere in sight. Finally, when the suspense was getting almost deadly, it loomed on the horizon and all the rituals were fast forwarded in the vain hope that we would be able to bless the bride and present our gifts to her. The sumptuous lunch ordered from an Indian restaurant and organized on the 19th floor of the posh apartment had to be consumed too, so all in all; we were in the afore-mentioned tizzy. So much so that despite meticulous planning, my sis-in-law and I had to leave for the airport resplendent in heavy saris, instead of the jeans and tee shirts we had very practically and thoughtfully kept on top of our hand baggage.

We set off for the airport merrily enough, in two cars being driven by the groom and another Friscan cousin, well in time for the flight after all. It is another matter that we discovered that a Laptop had managed to get left behind in another van and an SOS of sorts had to be made to Chris, our American brother-in-law-a new entrant into the fold-and he rushed to the airport post haste, bless him. Pretty close but all said and done, we managed to check in eight items of baggage in the nick of time and proceeded for security check with forty minutes still to go.

What with all the song and dance of putting one’s jackets, purses, footwear, besides every conceivable metallic possession, into trays that are scanned, x-rayed and what not, the six of us took fairly long to clear the queue. Or almost clear it. For when I approached the frame through which everyone has to walk for the metal-detection test, I observed that my sis-in-law had been signaled to stand on one side of the line. Why, I was not able to understand. Nor did I have the time to figure it out because no sooner had I walked through that all important door than the red lights began beeping in a mad frenzy. I was as surprised as the next person and before you could say metal detector I had been waved to a separate place on the other side of the line. It seemed that the beeps indicated something sinister about me. Soon, my sister was made to join the not-so-merry threesome, except that the two of them had to stand on one side and poor ole me on the other. The chappie responsible for all these acrobatics was standing stolidly in front of us-an inscrutable expression on his face- refusing to divulge why we were detained and not doing anything further about it. The desperation on our faces kept increasing by the minute and my brother and his sons who had cleared the inspection kept waving their hands at us gesticulating furiously that time was running short. To our repeated queries the surly fellow would say that the beepers had gone off in my case and the other two “needed to undergo further security check” (was it her green sari??). No reason beyond that. A classic case of ours not to make reply, our not to reason why…….till finally my brother managed to request a lady official to take the proceeding further and prevent us from missing our flight.

She approached me with a stern countenance and feeling more and more like a felon, I followed her, while the other two watched me helplessly from their vantage point. I was asked to step in to a glass box of sorts and it closed on me from all sides pretty much reminiscent of the gas chamber, I thought and shuddered inwardly. A couple of more beeps later, I was asked to step out and the lady officer then proceeded to frisk me very thoroughly with a sinister-looking metal detector. Each time she ran it by my side it beeped! The other side and it beeped even louder! She asked me if I had ever undergone any knee-replacement surgery which involved the fixing of a metallic support and I replied in the negative. Then why was the detector beeping, she asked exasperatedly. I told her I was as foxed as she was and also more worried as only twenty minutes now separated us from our flight. The other two had been released after preliminary questioning and I could see them all waiting for me but there I was: as much within the clutches of the gorgon-faced woman as ever before. She refused to relent to my pleas that I would miss the flight and somewhere at the back of my mind I realized that I couldn’t really blame her. After all, she was only doing her duty. But where in the name of Beelzebub had I erred? It was a no win situation and a very piquant one too, given that the dear relatives were looking more and more harassed by the minute

Till suddenly, wisdom dawned on me. And I felt one with the Buddha as I experienced emotions similar to what he must have felt all those centuries ago, under that long-forgotten Bodhi tree. It was the zari in my lovely gold and maroon sari that was playing havoc. I promptly pointed this out, choosing my words with care and painstakingly explaining that the silk fabric was interwoven with liberal quantities of metallic zari and that’s what was causing the metal detectors to go on their beeping spree. Her assistant doubled up with laughter and she also condescended to flash a reluctant smile as she accepted the cold logic of my theory. Thereafter, it was a cake walk, or if I’m to be more precise, a cake run. All six of us sprinted towards the aircraft-high heels and heavy saris notwithstanding. Seconds after we made our entrance, the doors of the plane closed and we heaved collective sighs of relief...........

That had been two days earlier and now I was winging my way back to the homeland.
As the golden-red rays of the setting sun wove beautiful patterns in the azure sky, my mind relived the harrowing experience when the same golden-red shades had created considerable chaos in our lives.
But, I shrugged sagaciously, all’s well that ends well and consciously withdrew my thoughts from the trying incident. Instead, I concentrated on the joyous festivities I was returning from and gradually drifted into dreamless slumber.