The see saw game of life

I’ve always considered that childhood favourite, the see-saw, as the ultimate symbol of Life. It represents, so tellingly, the ups and downs of this intriguing voyage: one moment you are at an all-time high: exulting, floating in the clouds…..the very next, you’re back to the earth with a resounding crash. Well, never has this see-saw experience been more evident-alternating between hope and despair, pleasure and pain-than in the recent sojourn we planned to undertake.

Our proposed trip to the Down Under was unexpected, to say the least. Absolutely unlikely, but made possible by my ever-optimistic sister’s undying positivity, her potent motivating skills. She was traveling to that part of the world and her seemingly innocuous query-why didn’t I plan to join her (we would be traveling separately but that wouldn’t be a problem) while she was there?-was aimed, with uncanny precision and persisting frequency, to ensure that I didn’t wriggle out of it casually. I replied in the affirmative, more to humour her than taking it seriously or even thinking that I would actually get down to planning the impossible. But even though I knew all along that this was a fairly far-fetched idea, never for a moment had I dreamt that-if at all the plan materialized-it would be replete with quite as many unexpected turns as it finally was. These components ensured that the adrenaline levels were high all through but the agonizing suspense that was a k constant had the effect of the legendary Damocles’ sword dangling precariously over our heads.

To start with, we had no idea whether we would actually go-till about twenty-four hours before the scheduled time of departure. The reason-All Quiet on the Visa Front and the suspense was all but killing! An international trip in the pipeline and the so-called travelers on tenterhooks, wondering whether it would materialize or not. Then, at eleven a.m on Friday, came my sister’s succinct message: ‘Visas cleared.’ The feeling of euphoria cannot be described- the most fundamental and the biggest of hurdles had been overcome.

I galvanized into action and how! But it seemed a pyrrhic victory. The internet chose, at that critical moment, not to display the only fare that was within reach of my modest pocket. I had been clutching at Thai Airways as my only straw, the only one that was economically viable but, with sadistic glee, this option was withdrawn; there was no sign of Thai airlines amongst the myriad exorbitant choices that seemed to be mocking at me that day. It had mysteriously been wiped off the face of the ‘net and I was left gaping, mentally bidding goodbye to all dreams of ever setting foot in the southern hemisphere.

A desperate call to a reliable travel agent bore fruit. He informed me that Thai airlines was updating its website and hence it had disappeared from viewing. He assured me that he would find out the best fares and revert quickly. He was as good as his word and got back within ten minutes, quoting an all-time low fare. My heart leapt up (pretty much like the poet whose heart had performed a similar antic merely on beholding the banal rainbow!) as the trip once again seemed within reach and I almost gave him the go-ahead signal, till a dampening thought besieged the self-same, vulnerable organ, this time making it dive to the general region of the feet.

For, the dear offspring, who I planned to take along with me-as a memorable 21st birthday gift to her-was running temperature and had a bad cold since the night before. All our ministrations: a combination of Cetrizine, Limcee and Crocin had not borne fruit and she still had fever that morning. Added to that, she was in the middle of a chess tournament which she wouldn’t miss for anything. On being advised that she should stay at home and rest, her stout rejoinder was ’No way!’She wouldn’t do that-- fever and the vague possibility of a trip to Australia (ha!)-- could not make her waver from her chosen path. (Remember, readers, that our visas had not come through till that morning, hence her candid disbelief and healthy disregard for our concern wasn’t surprising) Any other time, such determination, such resolve would have been touching but right then, it seemed sheer lunacy. I took it in my stride like most other things the parents of youngsters get used to doing. ….but now, with the visas in our pockets, hectic calls were made to her, to check on her health and work out the logistics for the immediate future. My desperate calls went unanswered for a good while (m’lady was too involved in her match to answer mundane calls and discuss everyday trivia like debating if one should go ahead with the programme to Australia or, depending on how she was feeling, lump it) Finally, contact was established after dogged attempts and once her squeals of delight had subsided (and the jumping with joy that I could visualize, stopped) she said she was as fit as a fiddle and saw no reason why her so-called indisposition should throw a spanner in the works. I nodded laconically, made all the right verbal nods and disconnected. I had too much on my platter-starting with booking the tickets. On cloud nine again.

The very next moment, a nebulous fear, an unnamed dread began taking shape in my mind; one that I was reluctant to give a name to, let alone share with her. In those times, when swine flu had become a household name, a horrible, dreaded term, the ugly thought racing through my mind was what if those immigration chappies-known to be fussy at best and finicky at worst-had come up with massive scanners, strategically located at airports, that would pick up the least little virus that was even distantly related to the pedestrian cold/fever? They, with their paranoia, their well-known penchant for maintaining the hygiene level of their island country, would be over-vigilant to keep their country pristine and sanitized. What if, on the faintest whim or suspicion, we were barred from entering the country and deported right back? Apart from the considerable monetary loss which I could ill afford, we would never live down the ignominy: the tale would be narrated to our grand children and great grand children with ghoulish relish; and be perpetuated for posterity, if you get the general drift.

Advice was sought from sagacious quarters-it was mixed and ranged from ‘drop the programme altogether (not worth the risk)’ to ‘leg it alone’. One school of thought opined that youngsters would get ample opportunities later in life; the same may not be true of middle-aged folks like yours truly. Not one person advised that the kiddo be taken along-that would be outright foolhardy, given the circumstances. Why not leave the young lady behind was the very sensible and pragmatic suggestion that came my way. Go alone and sail through undaunted. Very practical and all that but here I can put on record, with pride and honesty, that not for a moment did my resolve falter, never did I consider that as an option. No way; we would sink or swim together. I wouldn’t leave her in the lurch, after all the rosy pictures that had been conjured up, the uncertainty of the plan notwithstanding. It would either be both of us or neither. The ball was back in my court; it was a moment of truth for me. I had to take the call; others could, at best, give well-meant advice.

Adhering to the time-tested adage that the world belonged to those who dared, I decided to take the plunge. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I told myself. One frenetic call to the reasssuring travel agent later, all doubts were laid at rest, all misgivings gone. The terrible dilemma was behind me and I was at peace with myself.

Murphy’s Law took over completely after that. The more time that I needed to organize things, the busier the day became, with every conceivable minute being spent in back to back meetings! So even the simple act of making/taking a call became a challenge. I had to know whether the tickets were booked or not…at one o’clock the confirmation came. The tickets could be found in my mailbox, ready for printing. We were on our way!

As a rule, seasoned-or careless?-travellers that we are, we never take medical insurance when we travel. But this time, I decided to heed my younger brother’s advice and play it safe. Another surreptitious call, this time to the insurance agent, was made, categorically emphasizing the urgency and the fact that the papers would have to be delivered at home that very evening. He agreed but the well-nigh impossible prerequisite he stated was that he needed photo copies of our passports immediately. Now, here was the proverbial catch: I didn’t have the blessed documents in my possession, the Australian High Commission having taken its own sweet time in granting us the visas, had necessitated their being returned to my sister only that morning. A piquant situation, if there ever was one! Another sotto voce call, attempted to the dear sibling, but like daughter dear earlier in the day, she had better things to do than take desperate calls from hapless souls. Not one to be bogged down for long and blessing modern technology that was the sole contributor in making all the events of the morning possible, I resorted to that connector of all connectors-the sms- and text messaged the need for scanned copies to be sent ASAP. Typing an entire ID-while simultaneously contributing to a discussion- being too complex an act even for a multi-tasker like me, I simply asked her to send them to me. On getting her message that this had been done, I ran- two steps at a time, to my work station two floors above- found the mail in my mailbox and duly forwarded it to the right quarters. Heaving a sigh of relief, I raced back and was in my seat in a jiffy.

Lunch provided the much needed respite.........when the thought suddenly dawned on me that in all the hectic parleying and the morning’s shenanigans, I had completely overlooked a vital aspect: the moolah. This time, a quick call was made to the spouse, requesting him to organize a tidy sum and get it home in the evening. Thanks to his being a banker, this contingency was also taken care of with admirable haste, despite the short notice.

Finally, I was able to extricate myself and head home at seven pm. I did what little there was to be done, by way of packing. The kid had emerged victorious at the quarter finals and the semi-finals that day and her elation had made her cold take a back seat. However, it had also taken a toll on her energy levels and promising that she would do all her packing early next morning, she disappeared into her room.

Jubilation writ large on our faces-but with a mite of trepidation too-we set out on Saturday morning, all the hectic planning and last-minute coordination (buying a host of medicines being a part of it) having finally yielded a rich harvest. The flights-from Delhi to Bangkok and onwards were uneventful but as the moment for landing at Sydney airport drew near, fear began rearing its ugly head all over again. All the bravado deserted us and the omnipresent, omniscient Virus Scanner started becoming a menacing reality. All at once, I could absolutely identify with Macbeth’s fear of the unknown and felt “cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in to saucy doubts and fears." Minutes before touch down, I made Srishti wolf down two biscuits and a Crocin just in case the fever chose to resurface. She complied with alacrity, taking a Limcee too, for good measure. Our confidence returned as the plane touched the tarmac-the scanner receded, becoming a demonic figment of juvenile imagination-and we were all but ready to break into Jai Ho. We had made it!!

As all the passengers stood in queue, waiting for the doors of the aircraft to open, a metallic voice on the PA system asked us to please be seated again. Quarantine Officers were aboard and they would examine everyone, to ensure there was no contamination. There comes my fit again, I told myself silently, what if the harmless cold was diabolically contorted into something much more ominous? I took Srishti’s soggy handkerchief from her and buried it deep into our cabin baggage but didn’t know what to do with the plethora of medicines I was carrying in my handbag. Keeping our fingers crossed, we bade our time.

Thirty minutes of agony ensued as we beheld the solitary lady officer, in her fluorescent orange jacket; make her slow but steady round. She was taking copious notes as she went along and seemed to draw inexorably closer, every passing moment, till it became almost difficult to breathe! She was four rows ahead of us when she veered around as suddenly as she had appeared and left. Just like that! “All clear and you can disembark,” came the announcement. No words could have sounded sweeter to our ears!

The rest, as they say, is history. The only precaution I took was chucking all the tablets from my handbag (I had more in the checked-in baggage) into the nearest bin as the line to Immigration inched forward. All was smooth sailing after that.
We had a memorable trip and Srishti has done more than justice to it Howdy Ma(i)te! but no narration of the Incredible Sojourn would have been complete without this unsung chapter: the heroic saga of life’s vicissitudes, its dramatic twists and turns.