Kshitij dragged his trolley bag to the entry
gates of the airport. Damn, it was heavy, not just because of the knitted
woolens his mother had stuffed in, but primarily because of the eatables it
contained. He was going on-site for 2 years. Two long years, and his mother, it
looked like, was determined to not have him starved.
"Maa, it's not a jungle where they're
sending me. It's New York city. They even have Indian food easily available.
Will you seriously make me carry all this?", he had argued in
vain.
He looked back and saw his parents follow him
slowly. His mother, walked with her lost puffy eyes and his father apparently
surveying and observing and absorbing everything. Kshitij looked at them with a
knot in his throat. He had been working in a different city for 7 years now,
but, this was different. He couldn’t come back every 3-4 months, “Work from
Home” wouldn’t mean eating those Aloo
Parantha’s dripping with oil and a lot more. He wouldn’t cry. He shouldn’t.
It was for the best his father had convinced him. “And its only 2 years, as long as you don’t hook up with a blonde or a
read-head for a green card”, his father had said, in an attempt to lighten
his mood and they both shared a laugh. Mustering all the courage he had, he
cleared his throat and called out to them, "Mom, dad, quick. It's almost
time. Dad, you can start your goodbyes. Mom will do a couple of more rounds of
shedding tears before she finds her voice back", he said playfully teasing
her mom. He received a weak slap on his shoulder from his mother as she wiped a
trickle from below her eyes and a wry smile from his father.
He embraced his mother the moment he felt she
was about to burst into tears again, but, that didn't help the cause. She burst
out. "Mom, that's my new shirt!" he said in her ear, teasing her
again and tightened his embrace. "I promise I'll try my best to not bring
a firang daughter-in-law for you,
but, I can't promise none of them will fall for me", he joked and she
finally managed a chuckle. He pulled of the embrace and wiped her tears.
He turned to his father who gave him a proud
nod and stretched his arms in a gesture to hug him and then whispered in his
ear, "Get me the finest scotch there is", and patted his back.
Kshitij after pulling out of the embrace beamed at his father and winked.
"Alright then. Enough crying. Let's take
the customary selfie. You know they don’t allow people to board planes without
an Airport selfie nowadays", he said, but his mom and dad were oblivious
to the context. He dug into his pocket, and clicked.
"We're so used to having you around. How
will we manage everything?", his mother finally managed to speak.
"IOT", Kshitij replied.
"IOT?", both his parents said in
unison.
"Yes. I'll explain later. I'll call you
after the security check, alright?", both of them nodded.
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