Unlike the heat-escaping vacations every year, this time the heat advanced way earlier than expected. The pandemic outcome mirrors the optimistic hopes we had at the beginning of this ‘back to the normal’ year. With time, the initial excitement to return to our normal lives, and possibly schools, petered down, and once again we are stuck at our sacred abodes. As a mechanism to cope up with my monotonous schedule, I went through pictures of some of my cherished trips. Reminiscing on my last ‘normal’ vacation, I realized how much I missed the much-needed 2-week summer break, exploring new cities and food each time. Don’t get me wrong; While this pandemic itself is a looming hiatus, the biggest one humankind has ever taken, we cannot designate a stressful, gloomy, and daunting year as a break.
The story I’m going to share will seem like a typical scene from an action Bollywood movie, rather eventful, giving me chills each time I think about it. But, sit back and savor my histrionic and thrilling anecdote as I look back upon it. All this started at the end of a pleasant and leisurely delightful trip with my family to Amsterdam. An adventure was awaiting us at the end of another. We had connecting flights, first to Frankfurt and then finally to Delhi. As we were about to board our flight to Frankfurt, being already grim, the hailstorm gave us another reason to be more. Maybe a European ‘hailstorm’ is just as sturdy as drizzling in Delhi. Halting functions, the flight operators announced a delay of all the flights taking off as a measure for the worsening ‘hailstorm’. Resorting to McDonald’s to pass our time, after 3 hours of walking stray and a hearty meal, we were finally allowed to board our plane. Being blissfully unaware of our already boarded flight to Delhi, we enjoyed the views and snacks on the plane. Assured of our timely arrival at the Frankfurt airport, we were appeased by the coordination and management of the staff. After an hour of a panoramic and picturesque view, we soon landed in the orange-tinged city of Frankfurt. Unruffled by the delay of our connecting flight, we placidly walked towards our gate for the final flight to Delhi. However, it was easy to get lost in a frantic metropolitan airport like this one. For confirmation and reliable help, we advanced towards the ticket counter. To our dismay, our stretching yet a smooth trip spiraled into our worst nightmare in no time. The person at the ticket counter pointed towards the already-moving boarded plane with a contrite expression. Feet stuck to the ground, all our hopes of an untroubled remaining journey simmered down. Then, frantically, my tiny brother started running towards the gate in an attempt to stop the broad and high airplane. Satisfied with his daring efforts, he hastily returned to us.
Like the terminal’s Victor Navorski, we felt helpless with no whereabouts of our scanty luggage. Boiling with anger and frustration, my mother yelled at the agitated staff. They guided us to the information center, where 6 other passengers from our flight were stuck. Hoping to board a flight on the same day, we stood squarely as the prominent silence engulfed us. Once again, as a strong sign of bad luck, the next available flight was on the next day in the evening. To make matters worse, it was once again long and tedious connecting flights. We first had to fly to Hong Kong, where we had our layover, and then take a flight to Delhi. However, it was easy to get lost in a frantic metropolitan airport like this one. For confirmation and reliable help, we advanced towards the ticket counter. To our dismay, our stretching yet a smooth trip spiraled into our worst nightmare in no time. The person at the ticket counter pointed towards the already-moving boarded plane with a contrite expression. Feet stuck to the ground, all our hopes of an untroubled remaining journey simmered down. Then, frantically, my tiny brother started running towards the gate in an attempt to stop the broad and high airplane. Satisfied with his daring efforts, he hastily returned to us.
Boiling with anger and frustration, my mother yelled at the agitated staff. They guided us to the information center, where 6 other passengers from our flight were stuck. Hoping to board a flight on the same day, we stood squarely as the prominent silence engulfed us. Once again, as a strong sign of bad luck, the next available flight was on the next day in the evening. To make matters worse, it was once again long and tedious connecting flights. We first had to fly to Hong Kong, where we had our layover, and then take a flight to Delhi. Hastily informing our family members back in Delhi and taking their suggestions, we accepted the only possible way of getting home in time. It felt as if it was destined for us to leave Amsterdam on the worst day. The authorities provided us with a free stay in one of their affiliated hotels and essentials like a brush and long white t-shirts to spend the night. Exhausted from the ruckus, we decided to call a cab and head towards our hotel. Hoping for an indulgent sleep in a primitive yet charming hotel, we headed with a broad grin. As we sat in our cab at 11 at night, the driver asked us for the hotel name. Taking in the recent happenings, my alarmed mother held our hands, hoping for a safe ride. We turned towards the lighted streets of Frankfurt, feeling shielded, as we drove past the bustling markets. However, our journey took a slightly challenging turn. We were heading towards the outskirts of the city, where the atmosphere was rather dull and spine-chilling. There were streets with no lighting and peculiar darkness. Suddenly, the car stopped in front of a quietly fastidious building. We took our luggage out of the car and cautiously approached the reception. As we stalked through the quiet lobbies, dogs prowled behind us. We showed the hotel staff our passport and boarding pass and settled down in our bleak room. We changed into our long white T-shirts and put all our important documents inside the locker- which hopefully worked. We had to brook the intense humidity, thanks to my scared mother who wouldn’t open the window. The next day, excited to finally end our ‘extended’ trip, we once again changed into our old clothes and headed for a nourishing breakfast. While gathering all our jumbled things in the room, my mother handed over her jewelry and remaining cash to my father. All our documents and passports remained with my mother in her treasure: her favorite crimson sling bag.
Walking into an unwelcoming dining hall for breakfast, we sat in the middle. Occupied with oscillating thoughts, my mother hung her sling bag behind her chair. As usual, we ensured that at least one person remained seated to guard our personal belongings. Having a rough and sleepless night, I felt heavy-eyed in need of a particularly strong and good coffee. As I stood up to get myself some of it, from the corner of my eye, I glanced at the line behind me. A tall and peculiar man, dressed in all black, caught my attention. Being a casual observer, I chose to dismiss it. Sitting at the table, my family was quite engrossed in their prodigious food. As I turned my head back to reach out for the coffee machine, the strange man went towards the table. Gathering no attention, he swiftly collared the bag and went out from the garden door. Quite some time passed and we were still unaware of the theft; not a typical case. After we finished our meal, we got up to get our luggage and explore the mundane city. Suddenly, my mother panicked scouring the table and chairs to find her ‘treasured bag’. She persistently asked us whether we had seen it or not and the atmosphere changed from radiant to meek and quiet. To make her calm, we told her that she could have left it back in the room. Sure of getting the bag downstairs, she went into a panic mode, while rummaging the dining hall. Seeing her certainty, it took no time for us to become panic-stricken. Already missing our flight and staying the night in an unknown city was enough for us to get a fair taste of adventure. To top it all off, theft of a sling bag containing our passports and a phone made us experience the undesired thrill. Rage flowed through her like lava as she directed her way towards the reception. Having no control over her emotions, my mother asked the staff to look out for the person who stole her bag and check the cameras. The situation got so out of control that my mother started accusing the hotel staff-which seemed like a definite possibility. Seeing the circumstances spiraling into downright distress, tears welled up from deep inside and coursed down my cheeks. Several thoughts running at the same time, my entwined mind and I were not able to make sense out of the present. My father came to me and held me tight, even though I knew how he tried to maintain his calm for us.
Not getting a definite answer from the staff and their dilatory response forced us to find a clue ourselves. Making our way outside the uncanny hotel, we searched for the valuable bag while trying to stay close. Running in digress, we tried to look at every corner possible and ask every person in our way. Finding no clue, we felt as if our efforts went in vain. Finally, we decided to call the police- the final straw to our disorderly situation. Returning to the lobby, this time, a couple was waiting for us. Ostensibly, we had made quite a scene during breakfast. They claimed that they saw a man slipping the bag in his jacket, exiting from the garden door. Us being Sherlock Holmes, we speculated and scanned every person standing around us. Even the receptionist, petrified by the incident, went inside the security room to check the cameras. Once again, we went outside to give our efforts a last gasp. Gut-wrenching and heart-pumping- we sprinted outside looking everywhere. Promptly, a man approached us with a crimson bag, which was none other than my mother’s sling bag. Taking the bag abruptly into her hands, my mother looked into it to ensure that it came back to us in the same manner. Astoundingly, the passports and the phone were returned to us intact. When we asked the driver where he found the bag, he responded that someone left it on his car’s front. Feeling a sudden flare of joy, we thanked the driver for his help. However, every time I recall this incident, the question that always pops in my head is that how did he know the bag was ours? At the time, our cheered souls didn’t even bother to think about it; As long as the bag was with us, nothing bothered us just as important. Ten minutes later, as the police arrived, we spared no detail. A funny thing that struck us was that if it was an Indian thief, we wouldn’t have got our belongings back undamaged. Maybe humor was our coping mechanism to take in the staggering event. A reason for no damage, as we made it out to be, could be that there were no jewelry and cash inside the bag.
After the chaos, as everything settled, my mother’s emotions overflowed. It was at this time that she felt the most grateful to God. Being a believer of the supreme being, she constantly repeated, “maybe I have done something good in life that God saved us today.” The day marked to be my utmost and imperishable trust in deeds. I realized how our actions come back to us in one way or another. My belief in 'karma' magnified, being in control of my ultimate fate. There is nothing that can bring us eternal joy, but there is always something that can for a situation. Today, whenever we reminisce about our little adventure, we crease up and cachinnate on our luck at the time. These are the memories that bring us closer as a family and make us miss the time gone by. This is it for now; time to play ludo king...
