Sweet 'n' Sour | ✔

fifty

50. Hum pyaar ke sheher mein hai (We're in the city of love.)

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We were at the airport in Munich, Germany. The layover was for two hours so I suggested to Priya we take a stroll outside. But she was adamant about not leaving the airport lounge, reasoning international layovers aren't as easy as domestic ones and we can't afford to get in legal troubles. Since I knew shit about that stuff, I agreed with her without insisting any further.

"Are you going to be okay?" She asked me softly, lowering her head to look at me since I was staring at my shoes.

"With what?" I asked further.

"We'll be taking off again in an hour or so." She reminded me.

I sighed aloud.

Considering it was my first flight, the moment I was strapped to the safety belts, panic had flown inside me. I was shaking and trembling to the point Priya had to remove her own belt to hug me tightly. That made the air hostess come to us and advise her to wear her seatbelt back. It was embarrassing since Priya denied leaving, fearing if she did I would have an asthma attack. Finally, the air hostess offered me a sleeping pill and that knocked me unconscious for at least four hours.

"Just get me another sleeping pill," I mumbled tiredly, rolling my aching shoulders that were stiff because of sitting so much. My butt was hurting too. God, I'm never taking long flights again. This is so damn frustrating.

"How come you never travelled by flight before?" She inquired curiously.

I shrugged. "I couldn't afford it."

"Yeah, but your father can, right?"

I nodded. "But we usually don't use domestic flights. Dad likes traveling by road or train. And until eight I was with my grandmother. During that time they did go on one international trip but I didn't tag along."

"Why?"

"I didn't like leaving Dadi alone. And she was my family more than them. It would have been awkward to go on a trip with them." I answered.

She hummed. "You also don't like heights so I understand why you reacted so much."

I chuckled. "More like overreacted."

"No, reacted." She repeated firmly. "It was your body's natural defense mechanism. It wanted to protect you from the unwanted experience."

I looked at her in a new light. I always do when she says stuff like this. Like one time in a restaurant when Preeti had commented on my food intake. It didn't even affect me, but her sensitivity to such social issues is something that makes her more human than any of us.

"One time I was taken to a dentist to remove one of my wisdom teeth," I told her. She listened attentively. "It was a horrible experience. I'm kind of phobic of syringes and needles. And the doctor had two of them. The moment he pushed it inside my mouth, I was gasping and crying for breath."

"How old were you?" Her brows furrowed together.

"Eighteen, I guess," I responded. "I knew it was an Asthma attack. The doctor inclined the chair back and instructed me to breathe with him after I used my inhaler. Dad was embarrassed since the doctor called me worse than a kid. When he told the incident to my mother, she blamed Dadi for making me so sensitive and fragile. Both of them told me to toughen up and never repeat this in public or in front of strangers because it's nothing but embarrassing. I knew it was. But how can you control your reaction to something? I was afraid. I tried so hard to suck up and put on a brave facade, but I couldn't withstand in the face of fear."