The Fear Of Flight

The Fear of Flight

There was a time we used to crib about being put to bed early while our older cousins enjoyed watching the much talked about horror movies. There was a compulsion to complete our meal dishes even though we were stuffed. The necessity to call and inform of delays when visiting friends was an expected call of action. Even choice of programmes on TV was limited to age.

Of course, there was food on the table when we got off the school bus. The clothes had been hanged in the closets after being ironed. The evening snacks were happily prepared for us to enjoy and there was always the option to order food in. The afternoon nap was a religious act and in case of a miss, the evening tantrums were quite acceptable.

As we grew older, the attraction to become independent started to cling onto us. It felt great designing our own clothes, buying our favourite shoe or rearranging our own rooms. We fought with our parents to get the new hairstyle no matter how ridiculous it appeared in reality. It was a task to leave the joyous activity of recording songs and get to the lunch table, despite mum’s infinite reminders.

And even though we had sort of studied at the last minute for the exams, the report card never became a friend! And that entire bus trip that would be leading us to our fate with dad was as memorable as the stares that cornered the conscience every bit! And so we would rise to meet the challenges of the time. The spirit to prove our abilities had us replace the tape recorder with books for about a week! Up till the time A-Ha’s new album was released and the books became quite naturally too over-powering and needed to be taken a break from.

The alarms were set for an early rising to witness the March Past on 14^th August and the super thrilling ride to buy the small jhundiyaan and Pakistan Flag to hoist on the house roof. The PTV news anthem that declared a state of shut-up in the house with absolutely no space for even inquiring about the black Kiwi polish to prepare the shoes for school the next day!

All barbeques were compulsory to attend and the live music was an effort that was expected of us as a cost free contribution. The organ was connected to the speakers and the tunes were played and sung at first with less interest and conviction till gradually grasping the right note became a matter of conflict and serious involvement!

And then there were the long drives! The gossip on the landline would be disconnected by a call from dad to get in the car! The music was mutually acceptable but carried many old classics from Lata and Kishore. We sat at the corner seats staring at the open sky with few thoughts but beautiful faces and places. The car moved very slowly on a long curvy road and there was often no conversation. It was a time to connect with oneself and for some a time to reflect on the recent chaos.

The real joy came when dad would be in his jolly mood and we would demand our pocket money! There were always chances to extract a few more bills as he would be mostly quite gracious at such times. A sibling would poke on the shoulder suggesting the need to grab the moment and demand for an outing to enjoy a sumptuous Chinese or a spicy Tikka as well! The results were often a 100% and it felt like a complete day!

A surprise Eid-ul-Fitr was always more joyous! We would anyways be up and enjoying the late night programmes and food! Mum would sprint to the kitchen and the preparations would begin immediately for the early visitors after the Eid Prayers. We would often hear phone calls being attended by mum or dad wishing friends on the happy occasion. The haleem and sheer korma would be tasted by us and we would eventually gather in the living room to listen to some happy tracks along the pleasant activities around. The alarm would be set again, this time to click pictures of the men in the house clad in Shalwar Kameez and going off to prayers. It was always a relief to jump back into bed once they had left to doze off for another two hours!

These are priceless memories that daunt on our thoughts heavily once we are ready to leave the nest. The nest that protected us, spoiled us and forgave us unconditionally for our imperfections. 

There is fear of losing the person that we are and fright of not being able to take off despite our special powers! The risk involved scares our pilot within with the fear of losing a limb in the process. There is not only the anxiety of leaving familiar surroundings but also dimensions that would change with the flight. The nest might never appear the same again.

Yet, we soar to the sky, leaving our fears behind.

We follow this almost as a natural instinct to learn, grow and contribute. “Indeed the world is a book and those who do not travel read only a page!”