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‘You can’t replace your mother but you can never lose her love,’ the girl replied in a quiet voice.
Mrs Chandra stared at the young girl – the wisdom and gentleness in her words felt like a soothing balm to her harried soul.
For some time, neither spoke, both lost in their thoughts.
Mrs Chandra was thinking. And wondering.
Wondering why she had taken an instant liking to this stranger? Was it the smile? Or the way she spoke with a soft lilt in her voice? Or the heart-shaped face?
Mrs Chandra spoke on and off to the girl all through the flight. Something about the girl – and she wondered what the something was – made her fear that the girl had gone through tough times. She had a quiet strength emanating from her, a calmness that could only come from years of weathering one storm after the other.
Mrs Chandra was collecting her bags at Heathrow’s baggage claim when her thoughts were broken by a cheerful ‘Byeee!’ from across the hall.
The girl stood there, trolley loaded with two large suitcases, waving at her, ready to leave the airport and vanish into the grey, wet madness of London.
On an impulse, Mrs Chandra shouted, ‘No, wait!’
The girl stopped and Mrs Chandra walked swiftly towards her.
‘Do you have family in London? Or friends?’ she asked.
The girl shook her head.
‘London is too big a place to not have friends in,’ Mrs Chandra said, smiling. ‘If it’s okay with you, maybe we can exchange numbers and be in touch?’
‘Oh yes! That sounds great,’ the girl replied.
It was only when Mrs Chandra was saving the number on her phone that it struck her.
‘So we survived a rather unsteady flight together, jabbered nonstop, but didn’t exchange names.’
‘Yes, somehow we didn’t seem to need names,’ the girl mused, smiling, looking a tad surprised herself.
‘I am Hema Chandra,’ Mrs Chandra said.
‘And I am Koyal Raje,’ the girl said. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Koyal never really expected to hear from Hema, but she would get a text from her the very next day to which she would reply instantly. And that hesitant text would truly mark the beginning of a friendship that would last them their lifetime.
God, some say, is not real. Have you seen Him, heard Him, touched Him, they ask.
God is a superpower, a form of destiny that takes different shapes – of events, places and sometimes people. People you meet in the oddest of circumstances, in an airplane for example, who have the power to shift the course of your life.
Hema would turn out to be one such person in Koyal’s life.
Koyal would wonder later how different her life would have been had she never met Hema Chandra on Flight BA 245 from Delhi to Heathrow, London. How very, very different.
15
It was only October, but the temperatures had plummeted and at 7 p.m., as she walked from office to her apartment in Bellsize Park, Koyal pulled the collar of her Massimo Dutti coat closer.
And then she hopped on to the pavement.
Hopped.
Just like that.
Koyal paused, mildly surprised. She couldn’t recall the last time she had done this.
