Landing

Life offers me yet another adventure. I am off to India again! I feel different this time; confident, open, and satisfied. Yoga, making new friends, spending time with old acquaintances, visiting schools, learning all are parts of my intention while I'm here.

Landing in Mumbai Airport I am immediately reminded of why I love this country so much. Making my way to customs I notice there are signs that give me choice as to which line I can join. “Women with Small children” says one. “Handicapped” is another, and still another “Senior Citizens”. In Canada we might think this is segregation. Here, in India it is simple respect and a naïve ignorance of how it could be anything but offensive. I chose the one that says “Everyone else”.

The line is moving quickly and I am shortly directed to booth # 11. The dark skinned official is busy turning my passport pages, stamping sheets and scrutinizing my picture. I notice the officer in booth #12. He is waiting patiently for the couple in front of him to present their papers. As he waits, his long index finger digs deep into his nose. He removes the dirt from inside, and rolls his fingers gently. There is no sign of shame, no effort to hide. He flicks the dried up snot into the air before he goes back in for another search. I am sent on my way long before his nose picking adventure is done. I smile as I move forward. This is India. It’s raw, and crude, and natural and oh so real! I smile, inside and out.

As I finally make my way to the shuttle bus that will deliver me to Terminal 3 or Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport, I smile as I wander. The airport is bountiful with airport attendees. Everywhere in India is people. Human labour represents India’s most common and abundant commodity. The more people available in any public place, the more help patrons receive. I like human help!

I walk confidently and smile. A young attendant smiles back and says something to me that I don’t quite understand. “Excuse me?” I say and lean a little towards him. “Your hair style. I like your hair style.” He says. "Oh! Thank you” I reply and carry on. Yes….in India they tell it like it is. I like that.

I make my way to the Kingfisher check in. “Oh, it is way to early for check in mam.” Says the woman behind the desk. “You’ll have to wait”. A young man approaches. He is very young; young enough to be one of my younger children. His smile is innocent as his eyebrows crunch upon his forehead. “Don’t worry”, he says,"we can go and have coffee. We’ll wait. My shift is over. I am free for a while It won’t be long. Where are you from?" He asks as he begins to push my cart along to the nearby coffee stand. “Where have you come from? What is your good name”

My journey has begun.