The window seat

There is something special and prized about a window seat on any vehicle. It feels so engrossing to watch the world pass by. Talk about a window seat seat on a flight, and the stakes are raised, well, literally. It is then that I fight with missionary zeal to grab that window seat. Yes, and not on the wings please - they are absolute kill-joys!

Taking off from a city, I find it a sheer delight to look outside the window and see the city shrink like a miniature model, my eyes scanning for landmarks that stand out. Any city, big or small, then seems to offer its best on a plane-platter, as I like to call it. My first flights out of home - Kolkata used to be during my higher studies, when I would return to a campus life for yet another semester, with a slightly broken heart, while leaving my city of joy. In those last moments when the plane would shoot beyond the sheet of clouds, a glimpse of the Hooghly river, shining like a silver string would offer a strange kind of consolation - and strength. The majestic Howrah bridges would add to the joy. Even when shrouded in the kingdom of clouds, the last montage of the mahanagar would pull the heart - yes, there was something of an euphoric energy  in walking through the bustling streets of north Kolkata or nouveau Gariahat, but seeing it all stretch in front of you for miles, used to usher a different kind of psychedelia to the mind.

In a few years’ time, Mumbai became a temporary second home, and I would look forward to the grey blues of the Arabian Sea, and the curvature of the Necklace adorning the city. Come monsoon, you could see blue tarps waterproofing every other roof in the city of slums. At first it would irk me, but getting to know the city better, I understood that this ability to provide for all and sundry, gave the city its strength to run all day and night. The city of slums was also the city of dreams, and dreams came in all colours. 

I guess every city has a soul - while it takes time to understand that, the aerial view is a wonderful microcosm of it all. And every city has something special - you don’t need to live there to see it. All you need are inquisitive eyes. Flying into Chennai was one of my brightest Monday mornings ever: The blues of the Indian Ocean juxtaposed with the golden sands of an ultra long Marina beach - India’s longest beach for the record - was a warm welcome to the sultry city. Flying into Paris, and seeing the city roads radiating from the Arc de Triomph was another sight to behold. On the pit-stop at Istanbul, I just recollect the meanders of the Bosphorus. Flying to Dubai or through the heart of Australia was a different experience - miles of red emptiness with nothing but rocky crags and vastness staring back at you. Yet, to the poet, even that is beauty on a different scale. And of emptiness, get down into the red desert with an aboriginal and he will show you a universe that you couldn’t even imagine existed.

From desert to the mountains - how can I not narrate a Sunday afternoon flight to Bagdogra, the gateway to Sikkim and Bhutan. In a rare first, I was given the window seat of the first row - implying uninterrupted views without the wings coming in the picture. I was already excited to head off to the mountains in Bhutan, but what made my day were first, crisp views of the shiny white HImalayan peaks stretching in the horizon and then, an announcement from the pilot - that to the left were four of the world’s five tallest peaks visible in one panoramic frame. The entire cabin seemed to wake up for there in the cordillera were Everest, Lhotse, Makalu huddled together and then to the right - the ever awe-inspiring Kanchenjunga! Mountains have the power to humble you - and that day, I had to bow down, once again, to the grandness of the Himalaya.

You can never know what sights you might get to behold, thanks to the privilege of the window seat. A friend flying through Scandinavia to Canada once saw the shimmering, green Northern Lights during winter. What a sight to behold! I had once read an essay by Indian astrophysicist Jayant Vishnu Narlikar where he described a similar journey very close to the Arctic Circle around sunset time, the flight seemingly chasing the sun. Due to the relative velocities, the plane at one instant seemed to be travelling such that it led the sun to rise or reappear on the horizon - a rare instance when one could claim to see the sun rising from the west! Even a simple spectacle of the slow movement of raining nimbus clouds looks so surreal from a flight. And if the earth remains shrouded by layers of clouds, the clouds themselves have endless forms and shapes at play. 

It is thus worth fighting for that window seat, for your journey then becomes anything but uneventful. Who knows what you may spot - perhaps billowing black smoke of bushfires in a scorching summer, or beautiful coral atolls in a tranquil sea. Whatever it be, at that altitude, it will be an experience you will never forget…

20th March, 2021

Cover image: Windmills dotting the spiny mountains in Wellington's backyard, author's archives