by Rrashima Swaarup Verma

It was the winter of 2019, just before the deadly coronavirus pandemic would start spreading its lethal tentacles around the world. That was the time when airports were normal, unmasked, chaotic places where people comfortably stood only centimeters apart without so much as a thought to each other’s personal space. The time when you didn’t have to fill out a sheaf of forms for self-quarantining nor go through multiple health screenings. The time when it was normal to book an overnight trip for that one important meeting. Gautam Sharma, a young, eager, ambitious executive from Delhi took one such flight to Mumbai on a bitterly cold, December evening.  

Gautam tapped his foot impatiently on the thickly carpeted floor of the aircraft as he waited for the endless queue in front of him to move. Thankfully, he didn’t have much luggage, only his small, black overnighter. The flight had been scheduled to take off at 6 pm but it was almost 8 pm by the time they had announced boarding and after a miserable 2 hours delay and an even more miserable sandwich in the food court, Gautam wasn’t in a particularly cheerful mood. Frankly, the airline staff looked as stressed out and frazzled as the passengers but the blinding thick fog outside that had resulted in the delay was nobody’s fault. He should have known that the end of December was obviously the worst time of the year to travel from Delhi but he’d been hankering after this meeting for a long time and would have given his right arm and right leg for it. After all, Ms. Kiran Purohit was the President of Frederik Johnson; one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world. Gautam’s company knew that Frederik Johnson did a lot of business with one of their competitors and they’d been trying to get this account for over two years.

Ms. Purohit, however, wasn’t easy to get hold of. For one thing, she never seemed to be in the office or even in Mumbai. ‘She’s traveling.’ This was the standard response Gautam had been receiving from her secretary for the past six months. Six months! At last, after practically begging her, he’d managed to get an appointment with Ms. Purohit. ‘I can squeeze you in on Monday morning for about 45 minutes at 10 o’clock,’ her secretary had finally conceded reluctantly ‘But please ensure you’re on time.’ Honestly, sometimes Gautam loathed these secretaries.

At last, the queue inched forward and he checked his boarding pass for his seat number. Groaning, he realized that despite requesting for a window seat, he’d been allotted a middle one. It wasn’t even as though he enjoyed staring endlessly out of the window but a window seat did at least ensure that you didn’t have to get up twenty times because the passenger next to you has a weak bladder. Gautam sighed and dumped his small bag in the overhead luggage compartment before plonking into his seat. Both the seats beside him were still empty. He craned his neck and looked anxiously at the passing passengers. He hadn’t had a great day so far and was hoping a pretty girl would come and sit next to him. It would be some consolation at least.

To his chagrin, far from a pretty girl, he got stuck with an exhausted-looking, sleep-deprived mother with a screaming baby on his right side and a 60-something, sari-clad, grey-haired lady on his left. Sighing deeply, Gautam was just about to open his laptop when the grey-haired lady spoke to him. Gautam noticed that she was simply dressed and her grey hair was tied into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. ‘Young man, I need to use the washroom,’ she said to him ‘Could you please let me pass?’ Jesus! Just what he’d dreaded. Unbuckling his seat belt, Gautam rose from his seat to let her through while the young mother on his right, rolled her eyes, and looked heavenwards. What did she have to be so exasperated about? Perhaps the fact that her baby had been yelling blue murder since they’d boarded the flight might have something to do with her general foul temper. Shaking his head, Gautam opened his laptop. He had to prepare for his big presentation the next day.

‘You seem to be a very busy young man. I see you didn’t even eat dinner.’ The grey-haired lady smiled at Gautam pleasantly. The flight had been in the air for over an hour-and-a-half and this was the tenth time that she’d interrupted his thought process. He had an important meeting the next day and everyone knew that Kiran Purohit was not an easy nut to crack. He needed to concentrate on his presentation but between the yelling baby on his right and the lady’s continuous inquisitive questioning on his left, he just couldn’t focus.

‘I’m not very hungry,’ he said then and shut the laptop with a resigned sigh.

‘Ah, but the chicken curry was delicious,’ she remarked then as the air hostess appeared.

‘Tea or coffee?’ She smiled politely at them and Gautam nodded, holding out his empty cup.

‘Black coffee please.’ She poured out the coffee while the lady looked on disapprovingly.

‘Why don’t you have a nice cup of tea instead? It’s so much more calming.’

‘Yes, well, I need the caffeine. I have a very high-pressure job.’ Gautam didn’t want to be sarcastic but honestly, what would she have understood about his life? All she probably had to worry about was making sure that she got up in time for her morning walk and took her blood pressure medicines on schedule.

‘Really? So, what is it that you do?’ She looked at him curiously. ‘Are you a banker? Or a lawyer? Those are the people who usually complain about high-pressure jobs and drink black coffee all day!’ She laughed uproariously at her own joke and Gautam smiled back politely.

‘No, actually I’m a strategic business consultant. My company works for some of the largest multinational groups in the world including several pharmaceutical and healthcare companies.’

‘Really? That’s interesting. So which companies do you work for?’ To Gautam’s surprise, she looked genuinely interested.

‘Well, you know…..Ciplex Labs, Spencer Diagnostics….you probably won’t know them.’ Gautam shrugged but before the lady could answer, the seat belt sign had been switched on and the air hostess had approached them.

‘We’re about to land. Could you pull your seats back into the upright position?’ All of them nodded and complied including the frazzled mum on Gautam’s right. He noticed then that she was looking a bit calmer by then since her squealing baby had finally gone to sleep.

Gautam glanced at his watch as the flight began its steady descend into Mumbai. Nearly ten o’clock. With luck, he’d be at the hotel by eleven-thirty which would give him about six and a half hours of sleep. He had to leave for Kiran Purohit’s office at sharp 8 o’clock the next morning and ……

‘Well, young man. It was a pleasure to meet you.’ The lady smiled at him as she rose from her seat to retrieve her bag and Gautam realized that they’d already landed. At least it had been a smooth flight.

‘Yes, absolutely,’ replied Gautam politely ‘It was lovely to meet you too.’

‘So, do you live in Mumbai?’ she asked conversationally as they waited in line for the cabin crew to open the doors ‘And isn’t it a strange thing that I still don’t know your name?’

They both laughed and Gautam offered his right hand to her ‘I’m Gautam. I’m from Delhi.’ He noticed that she had a firm, strong handshake. ‘What about you?’

‘I live in Mumbai. In fact, here’s my business card.’ She delved into her handbag and admittedly, Gautam was surprised. He hadn’t expected her to have a business card. ‘Here you are.’ She offered the cream-colored card to Gautam who took it politely and fleetingly glanced at it. He didn’t actually expect to ever use it and was almost about to slip it into his pocket where he had every intention of leaving it until the dry cleaners found it the next time his suit went for cleaning when he suddenly noticed the name on the top of the card. Gautam peered at it with greater concentration and almost gasped aloud as he read it. Kiran Purohit. President, Frederik Johnson India.  

Jesus!! But that was impossible! How the hell……. ‘Young man, everyone’s waiting.’ Gautam looked up to see Ms. Purohit smiling at him benevolently, urging him to move forward. He picked up his bag and moved with everyone else. Even though he was walking on autopilot and trying to keep calm, he almost wanted to crumple to the floor and weep. Why hadn’t he asked the lady her name earlier? Her profile on LinkedIn didn’t have a picture but he could have …… ‘Well, goodbye then.’ They were out of the aerobridge and straight ahead of him, Gautam could hear the babble of incessant noise and chaos that was so characteristic of Chhatrapati Shivaji Airport. They stopped on the side and Kiran Purohit offered her hand to Gautam who shook it without a word. ‘I have to leave now. I’m meeting my husband and daughters for an hour at the airport hotel and then I have a flight to New York. I was hoping to stay in Mumbai for at least a few days but this trip was very sudden and unexpected.’  

‘Unexpected?’ Gautam was too baffled to say much else.

‘Yes, my secretary is going to curse me,’ said Kiran Purohit ‘She’ll be sending out a load of apology emails to people I was supposed to meet. Well, all the best to you. Have a good trip and don’t drink too much black coffee. I may not have a high-pressure job like you but I do know that too much black coffee isn’t good for health.’

She smiled at Gautam, patted him on the back, and before Gautam could even answer, turned around and disappeared into the milling crowd. Gautam stared after her for a few seconds and then walked back to the ticket counter to buy a ticket for the next flight back to Delhi.

About the Author: 

Rrashima Swaarup Verma is a writer and poet,  her works have appeared in several leading magazines and literary publications. She is currently working as a Senior Vice President with leading, global business research and strategic consulting firm.