Mumbai – Brussels: After a brief spell of showers from my eyes and anxious goodbyes at the Mumbai airport, I left alone. I felt alone.
Over the background of all travel formalities, I didn’t miss a single over from the fabulous Indian World-cup win. I couldn’t. Whether at immigration, or, security check, fellow travellers on their radio stuck to the ears, made sure you got a ball-by-ball account of the match. I was thankful. That night, The Mumbai International airport, housed thousands of Indians, from various walks of life, various professions, all leaving for a foreign land, but with a singular prayer in their heads. Make India win this one. The love for our country. And, cricket.
On the plane, next to me was this middle aged man, furiously writing into his little diary. Probably a travelogue…. Definitely a travelogue (I am proud of my sneaky ways ;)) . Mental note: interesting man, I should speak with him. We did strike up a conversation. He was a Belgian and was returning back from Indonesia. He traveled half the globe he said, to meet his love. He announced, going red in the face, “the distances you travel for love