A marriage made in mid-air

A frequent flyer, I had had quite a few colourful 'seatmates', who made my trips memorable. Notably, they ranged from Aishwarya Rai to musician Dr Balamuralikrishna. However, one 'seatmate', who made my trip more emotionally was an agitated gentleman, who boarded at the last moment with the rush of a raging bull in an early morning flight from Madras to Cochin, hopping via Coimbatore.

He kept his hand baggage in the space between his legs, wiped his sweating brow with a crumpled handkerchief and met my inquisitive gaze with a wan smile. "Thank god, I made it in time, minutes before the captain started taxiing," he said. I nodded, smelling that he had a tale to tell. "Did you know sir, my daughter will be getting married this morning in Coimbatore?"

This puzzled me. How can a father air dash to attend such an important event. He threw a bombshell: "Mind you, I am not rushing to Coimbatore to take part in the wedding. But to stop her suicidal marriage to a bearded, penniless poet, a villain of verses."

My curiosity kindled. I did not ask, allowing him to gather his wits and pour out the tale. "I was in Pondicherry for the past few days to clinch an important land deal. Only late last night, I heard that my daughter was going to marry the good-for-nothing geek, who will not fit into our rich, conservative family."

A romantic love story of the genre of Ambikapathi-Amaravathi, Romeo-Juliet, Salim-Anarkali and so forth. I leaned towards him so I would not miss a single word. The flight took off. "We should land at Coimbatore by 8. I will rush to the Registrar’s office I was told it is a bit far away. Anyway, their office will open by 10 only. I will see to it that she will not sign the papers and get married to that geek."

We circled over Coimbatore airport three times. The air hostess announced: "Rain and heavy turbulence. The visibility is poor. We will skip Coimbatore and fly to Cochin."

My 'seatmate' shot up like a rattled frog. "My god, it means another one hour to Cochin. Even if I take a fast taxi to Coimbatore from there, after landing, I will not be able to reach before 12 noon. That means that penniless poet and my daughter would have been registered as man and wife."

He collapsed on his seat. His face registered a gamut of emotions, anger, disappointment and helplessness— a thespian Sivaji Ganesan would have envied. I did not dare look in his direction. I closed my eyes. I thought turbulences are known to rock marriages. Paradoxically, this one was heaven sent to perform one.