Airport
I spent an hour at the airport at Bengaluru Terminal 2 yesterday, and all I did was observe the world around me. It sounds cheezy, but it was a conscious choice as I had almost used my phone for four hours, which is my self-imposed daily limit.
The ventilation in that place is impressive. The cold air caresses your face confidently. The place feels like an upgraded railway station with better interiors. There was also a stray dog, and no one bothered about it. Isn't that wonderful?
I also spent some time browsing the beautifully lit shops. One store sold chocolates, books, and gifts. I went inside to check out the books and came out buying chocolates. The books were all self-help. I am unsure if this was a deliberate choice, but it looks like the only books sold nowadays are self-help and religious books. Maybe I should ChatGPT the statistics.
There was this foreigner who, along with his wife, was waiting. He had the cockiness to sleep on the pavement like he was in the comfort of his own home.
Many local women who work at the shops at the airport were winding down from their shifts. Many were listening to local Kannada songs on their smartphones on speaker. I liked that they had a moment to change their work uniforms and assume their personal selves. Like me, people who work from home miss having this distinction between work and personal lives. Maybe that's why experts suggest wearing office clothes even when working from home?
Preeti messaged me that she landed at 10:28 p.m. I knew it would easily take 30 minutes for her to get out of the Airport. However, I was making the cashier's job challenging by asking him to bill the chocolates soon. I had almost decided to leave the chocolates at the counter. Thankfully, they quickly solved the payment processor machine issues and gave me the chocolates. There, too, the change of guard was happening, and the person who had finished his shift couldn't wait to get out of the workplace.
The last part of my waiting involved looking at the passengers at the exit gates. I saw many people: dignitaries welcomed by government officials, foreigners looking for their name tags held by cab drivers, families, individuals, etc.
A few foreigners acknowledged the person carrying their name tag and assuredly smiled when they saw their name. Others made them feel they owned them by giving them a stern look.
In the end, after waiting for 60+ minutes, I could see Preeti and Mudra, and my time at the Airport ended.