Window seat magic

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I have had a thing for window seats for a long time. If I walk into a room and there is a seat next to a window, I am heading straight for it. It’s one of those things that are just impossible to resist. I always wish to see the countryside moving along and the views as the vehicles zap by. I remember once I had to travel by bus and I asked a passenger, who was sitting alone: “Excuse me, would you consider moving over here?” I asked pointing to the empty seat on the other side of the bus. “I’m travelling with my brother and we’d like to sit together.” She turned from her dazed state and looked at me straight into the eyes, “No. I’m not giving up the window seat.” Her abruptness caught me off guard and instantly angered me. I wanted to hurl some nasty comment back at her, but decided to take the high road and find a more productive solution to our seating dilemma.
Being a Kashmiri, I would often find my brother and me on a bus to visit my home state for the holidays. There would always be a fight that who would sit by the window and whining that so-and-so had sat there the last time. “I always, always have to sit at the window.” I could pretty much recall that feeling, when I was a kid and used to be stubborn enough not to give my window seat to my brother, a year younger to me, and who always used to wait that I leave my bossy attitude and politely give my seat to him. But folks, once you forgo your spot, you can’t get it back. And you risk not getting on at all.
When I first got on a plane, I insisted that I get the window seat so that I could see the engine and the take-off. Even though the clouds were fun to go through, appearing so light and fluffy, I almost always enjoyed the view of the world underneath us. There were buildings that looked like boxes and cars that appeared to be moving shiny spots, inching along grayish-black roads. If the plane went low enough, the people would give an impression of ants going around for their daily chores.
There were dark green and shadowy lumps of woods and various shades to browns of fields or cleared lands stretching out then stitching together into a snug earth-toned quilt.
It was just wonderful and I wish I could have enough time to travel more often, so as to get more opportunities to sit on my favourite seat, watch the plane disappear into the gorgeous white clouds and up there, I can dream all I want. It’s there that I have always been able to see, feel and imagine clouds dancing, forms taking shape, lovers kissing and it is there I could feel the kindness of heaven. One can see this kind of magic only from a window seat.

(http://www.tribuneindia.com/2010/20101101/edit.htm#5) Published Published in the 'Middle' section of The Tribune, Chandigarh

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