"Wish you were here"

"Boy, when you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People comin and puttin a bunch of flowers on you on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody" ~Salinger (The Catcher in the Rye)

"This is your boarding pass, Mr Harry Haller. Your luggage has been checked in. The flight, I'm afraid has been delayed by five hours. We're extremely sorry about the inconvenience."

I decided to amuse myself by trying to figure out how much of the delay was due to the fog in Delhi and how much was due to the snow in London.

While I was engaged in this little mental exercise, I overheard a cute voice behind me saying, "Yes aunty, thanks for the paranthas! They were awesome! Such a relief. Probably my last bit of good home food for some time". I turned around to discover that the owner of the pretty voice was even prettier. The arrival of the uncle, the erstwhile bearer of the aforementioned paranthas forced me to resign myself to the problem of the snow and the fog.

Time crawled by, as the ceiling morphed into weird patterns, often choosing pitch black, before returning to a boring white. While the ceiling gradually lost its life, I found myself listening to a boy describe a book to an old man.

"It's called 'Catcher in the Rye'. The protagonist in this, Holden, is a rebel of sorts, It's quite funny."
"What's the boy's story, Harry?"
"Well, he has a problem with phony people in school, leaves, goes to New York, gets into an awkward situation with a prostitute, gets beaten up and so on. That's where I am." The boy continued, "Baba, you know what makes this book cooler? Mark Chapman, the guy who killed Lennon, and the attempt to assassinate Reagan and a couple of other murders have been associated with this book!"
"Ha Ha! I don't know what it is about death that fascinates you people."
"Baba, when I come back, I'll be carrying a lot of bags. Will you come to pick me up from the airport?"
"Of course, I'll wait here for you"

There was silence for a while. People moved about, and time crawled by again.
I turned around to put faces to the voices.

There was a hoary old man, with a long beard, sitting teary-eyed behind me, and looked like he had waited silently for years.