I am, what you can call, a reformed frequent flier.

And the designation does not come easy.

You must, compulsorily, undergo life-altering experiences to earn it.

At times, experiences that alter the impression left by a previous life-altering experience.

For instance, once, after being crushed between two portly businessmen all through a Mumbai-Delhi flight, I left strict instructions with my office to ALWAYS telecheck me into a window seat.

I love window seats. Always have.

Sigh.

The next few weeks were spent flying happily ever after.

Till it happened.

I was to fly on my usual Mumbai-Delhi sector.

I was sleep starved – whenever I have to take the first flight out, I barely sleep in the worry that I won’t wake up in time.

My office made no mistakes.

It was me in the window seat.

A middle-aged gentleman in the aisle seat.

Hunky and dory were together.

Till SHE walked in.

A conservative estimate would peg her between 100 to 115 kilos.

Saree-clad, very-well-fed Punjabi lady, returning home to Delhi, probably.

She ‘settled’ in.

What do I tell you now?

That I spent the rest of the flight with my face squashed against the window like a first time flier?

No it wasn’t voluntary.

When you have a mammoth elbow intruding across three-fourths of your seat space, there is nowhere else to go.

I had to refuse breakfast.

There was NO way I could have handled a tray in that kind of space.

It’s bad enough when you have to share your seat with a giant elbow.

It’s worse when the elbow belongs to a giant who decides to sleep after breakfast.

And sinks a little into you with every passing breath.

Now consider the fact that the elbow belongs to a woman.

What will you scream?

Rape?

I would have.

Had I managed to somehow extricate myself from under that elbow and reached upwards to buzz the air-hostess, I seriously would have.

We disembarked in Delhi.

She, refreshed.

Me, crushed. Literally.

Frequent flying is no fun, my friend.

After Vietnam and Advertising, it ranks third in my books.

That morning I learnt that even a window seat can’t save you from the scourge of an intrusive elbow.

My humble advice?

If you can, fly business.

If you can’t, then beg the ground-staff to tell you who or what has checked into your middle seat.

If you can do neither, quietly take the train.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

In case you have a similar moving experience, do write in.

Gullible’s Travels will be glad to reproduce the same in the larger interest of travelers.

When you post after a 3 month hiatus, it had better be good.

I though this would be a good way to return.

I received this via email from a colleague.

Who personally knows Aditi, the author of this email.

So I’m doing the next best thing I can.

Asking you to read it as well.

__________

Dear All,

This email is actually an appeal and since I want you to truly understand what I am trying to say, I will not take any short cuts.

As you may all know I am a fellow with Teach For India. This stated very simply means, I am a teacher. I teach 45 children in a low income school in Goregaon East and make a difference in the lives of about 300 children in the school, in different ways-big or small.

My co teacher and I took 6 of our students to Oberoi Mall, Goregaon, the other day. This outing was conducted with the aim of celebrating their success. Each one of the 45 children was given a differentiated goal to achieve, 6 of them made it.

At the end of a very happy meal  we took them to Crossword Book Store. The sale was on and all the books were out on display. My kids walked in and were truly mesmerized by the sight. The colours, pictures and everything there, was a treat. They picked up books and sat on the carpet, reading.

Some understood, while others simply read.

This is the thought I had while we were there. If you put any child in a place that offers learning, a child will learn without being taught. This store had so much to give.

My class is really colourful. Its walls are plastered with a lot of information. They have storybooks to read, but most of them have been read.

We need books.

Here is my appeal:

In case you people have books, magazines, activity books, picture dictionaries, normal dictionaries, and all or any form of literature suitable for children between 6-14 years – those that you have outgrown, those your children have outgrown, your nieces and nephews, and everyone else – please could you pass them over to me?

I promise, as long as the material is in English, it will be used.

Send me an email on aditirawat@gmail.com and we will find a way to collect the gifts.

Looking forward to receiving support from you. Cause I truly want to believe that everyone wants to help, but does not know where exactly to start from.

Feel free to begin

Thanks!

Aditi

P.S- please circulate this to everyone.

–

Indira Aditi Rawat
Teach For India Fellow.
Class Teacher- 2B
Divine Child High School
Sanjay Nagar
Malad East, Mumbai.

“One day ALL children will attain an excellent education”

PS: Aditi’s kids won in the ‘Top 20 Category’ in the Design For Giving Project. Out of 33000 registrations.

Here is a little video: Click Here

Dear Brother Twitter,

WTF.

I don’t know what that means, but I think it is a popular greeting in your world.

So I am hoping you will like it

In fact in our village we like showing our respect three times.

So here goes.

WTF. WTF. WTF.

I am hoping you will like that more

You will wonder how I found you.

Well, I did not.

Jaggu (aka Jags), our village cybercafe owner did.

You see, Jaggu, Talli and I are country liquor bar regulars.

Every night, we drink and talk about many things.

But lately something happened to Jaggu.

He began talking less.

I mean the Jags we knew wouldn’t allow anyone else to speak once he started.

But this new Jags?

He spoke less. And less. And less.

One night, Jags passed out earlier than usual.

And even as Talli and I were finishing our last one for the road, he started mumbling peculiar words in his drunken state.

Words we had never heard before.

“RT. WTF. Hashtag.  Follow Gulpanag. Follow Kareena. Follow Bipasha.”

We were alarmed, brother.

Why would Jags want to follow them?

Who were these RT, WTF and Hashtag?

Why did he want them to follow sister Gul, sister Kareena and Bipasha?

You see, the last time Jags tried following Bansi’s ex-wife (she walked out on him), he was thrashed by the village ladies.

Had he forgotten that lesson?

We were alarmed.

We were drunk.

We had no one to turn to.

So we turned to brother Google.

And that, brother, is how we discovered Jaggu had found you.

For two days, Talli and I explored your world.

And we understood.

It was you who was making Jaggu speak less.

You did not allow him his usual long-winded conversations.

He who speaks less, knows more, says Masterji.

So maybe that is good for Jags.

But late night in the country liquor bar, we miss his long stories.

We really do.

Another thing.

You may be big time popular with many people, brother.

But I must urge you to consider this.

Don’t follow people.

It is not an activity a decent person like you should indulge in.

It might even get you into trouble.

If Bajrangi (our village wrestler) were to find out Bipasha is being followed, we will not be able to save you from him.

So much for this time brother.

Treat this as advice from an elder brother.

Don’t take it in any other way.

You see, even though we seem apart, we are exactly like each other.

Know how?

My life, like yours, also revolves around 140 characters.

That includes me, Jags and Talli

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PS: Can you tell Bipasha I am not following her because I am a good person. I do happen to like her actually…