The Flying Window to Tehran

I love a window seat on anything that moves, or flies. I like to see things moving past me, choose a few interesting ones, and think about them. When I was 11, I almost died of the inborn fascination. I had tried to jump on to my moving school bus to ensure that the particular window-seat, right behind the row reserved for girls got reserved for me. My leg had slipped and I was thrown next to a pair of huge worn out tires. Someone shrieked (it was a girl, I remember), and as a result, the bus happened to stop right in time. Next, I was whisked off to the Principal’s office, and what followed is too embarrassing to disclose.

So on a flight to Tehran, when I found someone else sitting on the seat my boarding card entitled me to, I was disturbed. One of the reasons I prefer flights at night is that it helps me see the glitter of streetlights when the plane makes a landing. The streetlights tell you a lot -- from whether a country has enough resources to keep them burning in the dead of night to whether the municipality has the discipline to replace fused bulbs. Anyway, this middle-aged woman, wearing a scarf, an overcoat and a pair of jeans kept quiet when I claimed my seat. “If you could you please let her sit there” an air-hostess’s request was seconded by a nodding glance by a lady sitting in the seat behind.

I relented. After all, sitting a seat away from the window, I could still see a section of the streetlights of Tehran when the plane would land.

Somehow, Emirates, which has forced me to see censored movies even on flights to London, Singapore and New Delhi had decided to leave them untouched on its packed flight to Tehran. And devoid of the Window seat, a copy of Economist packed away into luggage and with well rested eyes not wanting to sleep, I had one option –- select from a host of 18+ movies to choose from. I surfed and surfed, and trust me, the process was a nightmare with my co-passenger taking a particular interest in what I was watching. As if she understood my problem, she turned he head away after a while. I finally settled down on ‘Love and other impossible pursuits’. Having known the story, I did not expect any particularly hot scenes. But they did come much to my discomfort.

“She is Jewish, right?” I was asked by my co-passenger as a sans makeup Natalie Portman showed her acting skills.

“Yes she is,” I replied.

“Very beautiful,” she said.

No one in the world would deny that. I smiled.

“Good. Don’t worry. Just watch your movie,” she had sensed my apprehensions.

I did watch the movie -- even as I had the food.

“You like movies ahh?” she asked. The “ahh” a deep mix of Arabic and Persian, as she surfed channels to begin watching the movie herself.

I smiled.

Then, something unexpected happened. She gifted me the pack of sugar, milk and stirrer from her food pack.

“But why,” I smiled.

“Guess you like coffee a lot. This is for the second cup.”

I had asked for coffee as soon as I took my seat. It had been noticed.

“Well, I also like the window seat,” I replied.

“Sorry, I am not giving you that,” came the stern reply.

She asked me why do I have this childish fetish for a window seat, and I told her why.

When the announcement that the flight has begun descending into the airport came, I saw a hand waive in front of my screen.

“Should we exchange seats now?” the woman, almost the age of my mother asked.

I happily complied.

And my thought buds were active in no time.

The glitter of streetlights below gave me an impression that the municipality of Tehran indeed worked. But, a part of the city was probably under load shedding … that suggested fuel shortage. Or was the power plant capacity not enough to meet rising demand. Were more people moving from villages to cities thus turning the power demand-supply equations absurd?

“Ok, the plane has landed. Now go out and see Tehran,” came the familiar voice.