As with any great adventure, you must begin with a misadventure, a curse: I missed the plane – at least I am going to miss the plane, probably. I trust that I can get a connecting flight from Taipei to Shanghai. We will subsequently see. Like an alluring mistress, Delhi attracts, but will not easily reveal her charms.
The plot thickens and continues, as they say. I ultimately do miss the plane, not just the plane but the aforementioned connecting flight. There is nothing to be done; either spend the night at a hotel near the airport or return home. I opt for the hotel and a fresh start in the morning. I check into an overly grand suite: purchased online from a discount website. The bed is so large that I feel uncomfortable; you could have a dance and a party on it, at the same time. I choose the more humble sofa and quickly fall asleep, totally fatigued by the adventures of my misspent day.
I awaken at an early hour, exercise and down a cup of bitter un-sugared tea: off to the airport! At the terminal the curse continues. Now the new ticket cannot be found, or rather it can be found but there is no registration number: why not? No one seems to be able to frame an intelligible answer. I perch myself beside the airline kiosk and remain steadfast. Like an irritating and iconoclastic statue, I will not go away. Finally out of a combination of frustration and pity, they issue me a boarding pass: with one negative caveat. My luggage cannot be checked through to my final destination and must be petitioned for from New Delhi the following day: success – or at least partial success. I will get there, only a day late!
The transfer in Shanghai is effortless. I arrive in New Delhi to a modern airport resplendent with an enormous sign announcing that, once again, she has been chosen as the best airport in the world: now for 2016. Wow — am I impressed! I dally, trying to totally enjoy and experience the venue. The impatient throng, however, pulls me along the corridor and down a lengthy escalator to the main arrivals hall. I position myself in a line in front of, what appears to be, the most accommodating customs officer. “It is all about proper choices,” I tell myself.
“Next!” Suddenly I turn into Gregor from the Metamorphosis. (1) I am a bug – a nothing, a creature. “Your visa has expired.” In the din of the cavernous chamber, I hear, “Your visa is inspired.” Clever man, he knows that I am on my way to an Indian yoga conference. “Thank you,” I reply. He looks at me rather nonplussed. Hmm – there seems to perhaps be a problem. “Inspired?” I add. “No, expired, as is not valid.” “What?” “There must be some mistake!” “Yours, not ours!”
Such insolence from a lowly court official, I muse to myself. “Sorry: please just fix it up.” “Fix it up? Sorry sir,” his tone falling on the second half of the word. “Here, we do not repair your mistakes.” Insolent cur: “Then what am I to do?” I ask. “Return to Taiwan,” is the riposte. This is a nonsensical response. Not so, I find out remarkably quickly. Stamp, stamp and yet another stamp: I find myself on the same aircraft I have just existed, having been just freshly cleaned and perfumed. I reluctantly nestle into my seat for the seven-hour return flight to Shanghai. “You have got to be kidding. This cannot be happening to me,” – but it is!
As we approach Shanghai, I am ushered into a seat in first class. They obviously understand my importance and status. First class, as in to be met first by a Chinese Border Policeman: “Sir, would you please follow me, we have some questions we would like to ask you.” The prying eyes of the Chinese follow me down the exit ramp: “What kind of criminal is he — smuggler, forger, drug dealer?” Callous opprobrium is clearly painted on the eyes of all inquisitive onlookers: humbling to say the least. Six long and tedious hours later, I am returned to a connecting flight to Taipei. I arrive burnished with the “mark of the beast.” (2) Chastened and bowed, but not yet broken, I vow to return in the next day or so. To be continued … Mahatma Gandhi (1869-1948) leaves us with a pensee: It is unwise to be too sure of one’s own wisdom. It is healthy to be reminded that the strongest might weaken and the wisest might err.
A closing thought: The Out-of-Towners is a 1970 comedy that documents the travails of an American mid-Western couple who visit New York city for a job interview. They are insulted, brutalized, assaulted and robbed all the while seeking to be on time for the appointment: outrageously funny, but also a dark comment on modern civilization. (3)
A small joke: At my art gallery, a woman and her ten-year-old son were having a difficult time choosing between one of two paintings: a stark winter scene and a more colorful fall one. They finally decided on the brighter one. “I guess you decided you prefer an autumn scene to a winter one,” I said. “No,” replied the boy. “The one frame is wider, so it will better cover a large mark in our wall.”
This week, please think of how you deal with life’s negative complexities.
Every day look for something magical and beautiful
Quote: From time to time, we all need trying and difficult circumstances to hone our patience and critical-thinking skills.
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