On my return journey, back to Dubai, I reached Kochi International Airport at around 12'O clock in the night. It did not seem to be a busy night for the Airport on an insignificant Thursday night and I was pretty early for my early morning flight which was estimated to depart only at 0435 hours.
The sheer thought of spending another four hours in the big bemusing airport, all alone,made me make my moves as lazily as possible and on a rare occasion, I enjoyed wasting my time so lavishly without much guilty feeling.
The porch of the Airport had been changed, much extravagantly, since the last time my being in the same place, in less than six months time. Separate dedicated lanes for Airport Taxi, Public Transport & Private Transport, each divided with a footpath and covered-on-top from unexpected rains or scorching sun.
I was on the footpath of the Private Transport, just got down from a modest Auto rickshaw which guided me from nearby Ankamali Town Public Transport station till the Airport – I always wanted to remain a 'common man' using common medium of transport giving ears to common man's stories, from the moment I touch down my home country.
Just when I was slowly moving ahead via footpath towards the sign that showed 'Departures' to the left, one elderly person overtaken me from the left and stood in front of me. When he asked me 'where I was going', the first thing came to my mind was either he wants me to accompany him as he probably was going alone abroad for the first time or he wants to check-in his excess luggage with me so as to evade excess baggage charges.
But soon, to prove my guesses wrong, I came to know that not only did he have any such intentions but his meeting had some other mysterious purposes - my mind was wandering around with some unbelievable thoughts – wasn't there a dry leaf flying in tune with the midnight breeze, few yards away? Wasn't there a star shining like a smiling gem few feets above? It took my breath away with the similarity that the old man resembled my own Dad who had passed away exactly five years back in the same month. He had the same skin texture of my father - high cheekbones with toned-down-to-no-fat cheeks - creamish hair scaled up with evident loss of hair from each side of the temple - the thick-framed spectacles covering the top eye-brow lines - all of these facial features were strikingly similar!
I was in some other world and was hardly listening to him when he spoke to me about his long journey to Manchester via Doha in Qatar. He is going to travel with his wife to meet his daughter and family, who reside in Manchester.
I came here for a short trip just to attend my Dad's anniversary rituals which I never missed for the past five years. Last three years we had gone to "Thirunaavaya Nava Mukunda Temple", near a river-side village, famous for the rituals for the people heavenly abode, with services available throughout the year. Before I could tell him what I had in mind, one of his relative came and took him away to some other place. I immediately called up my mother and told her about my meeting with the guy who resembled my father, her late husband. I couldn't imagine what sort of emotions it would evoke in my mother's mind, but I had to tell this to her!
When I was waiting in the lounge I knew he would make an entry as his flight was just half an hour after my flight so that I could probably say what I felt. Meanwhile I was trying to remember the highlights of my short three-day trip and I was wondering during the rituals, the Tantrik had asked us to imagine that we are recalling the Soul of the dead from heaven down to earth and consider that we are clothing the soul, giving him water, feed him and just before the end of rites, we should also send His Soul back to heaven. But I doubt, this time, whether the Tantrik had forgotten to tell us to imagine to send the Soul back to heaven, with a special mantra. Maybe the Tantrik's slight ignorance brought this bliss to me, so that my Dad, who loved me, yearned to meet me during his last few days on earth, had literally come down to meet me now, to talk to me and to see me off. It was indeed a heavenly feeling that I thought I am blessed with a rare feat. Otherwise, why on earth one strange old man had chased to meet me and spoke to me proactively?
The old man, (possessed with my Dad's Soul, I would like to believe so) finally made an entry with his wife; I got up to meet him once again and when I spoke to him about his striking resemblance to my father and told him I actually came for my father's fifth anniversary rites, I fought well to successfully hold back my tears from streaming down. Before I wished him happy journey, I asked him what's his name, he said...Joseph. It wasn't my father's name but it was definitely few of my close friends' father's name, who too were resting in heavenly peace. With swollen eyes, I came back to my seat to only go back to the memories of my short trip, and my dream-like rendezvous with my Dad or His soul, till the gate opened for check-in.
.For all those who miss their Dad….Love, Adwin Kris
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