As I stepped out....

"Stop it, Dad! I have checked it already, everything is fine", I shouted at Dad. That was the Eighth time he was checking whether I had kept my Passport and my immigration details properly.
"And the tickets?” he muttered softly, probably fearing that I will burst out again.
"Yeah, that's also in place. You please stop worrying; I can take care of these things myself!"
"Won't you find out once again whether the flight is on time?"
"Dad!" I had started loosing it again but quickly controlled myself and said, “It’s departing right on time. You have called them up five times since morning! This time they won't respond to you."
Reluctantly I walked up to the phone and dialed the digits once again only to satisfy him for the sixth time. The operator once again confirmed the flight details. Hats off to these operators! Had I been in her seat, I would have definitely recognized the voice and hung up the phone this time!

"Now what are you doing with that suitcase? Leave it, don't take out anything now, it's all packed", I said indignantly as I realized that my Dad was up to something again. 'Why can't he sit in one place?' I thought.
"No just checking whether the lock is working."
"Arre, I have already locked it properly. You need not worry."

The phone rang. I received it: "Hello? Arre Babli pishi, kemon achho?"
"Just called you up to wish you a happy journey."
"Oh, thank you so much"
"So when are you leaving?"
"In another half an hour"
"Ek minute, Bablu and Banti want to talk to you"
Oh, those wretched cousins of mine! How much they troubled me last summer when I had gone to spend a few days at their place.
"Hello, Tukundada? Tumi America jachho?” came Bablu's voice.
"Yes dear. I will send you a nice toy from there."
"Satyi?!"
"Ekdom satyi!"
Then it was Bunti’s turn.
“Hello Dada, can you bring for me a robot when you come back?”
“Ok, I shall try”

The conversation ended with Babli pishi (i.e. my Dad’s sister) wishing me all success in life and reminding me the need to eat lots (since I have a height of 6ft but weigh only 60 Kgs), the need to wear warm clothes all the time (some numbskull made her belief that USA has a temperature of -20 degree Celsius all over the year!) and above all the need to stay away from the ‘firangi’ girls (she seemed to be very sure that these American girls hang around with bright Indian guys only to spoil their future!!).

I heaved a sigh of relief as I kept down the receiver. That was an acute case of advice overdose for me. ‘Why do all my relatives think in the same way?’ I thought.

Since the previous week I had been receiving innumerable calls from many known and unknown relatives and well-wishers, who seemed to be too eager to choke me with such unwanted advices and suggestions. The worst one that I had to handle deftly was the one that came from my 80 year old grand mother. She had suggested that I should go to some astrologers to find out whether the arrangement of the stars was conducive for the impending journey. I had to play it down saying that whatever be the position of the stars, they won’t collide with my plane. Though she was not amused, she quickly suggested a visit to some ‘sadhubaba’ as an alternative, which initially inspired my mother, but then the frown on my face had made her change her mind and she had to declare sadly, ‘Aajkaaler chelera don’t believe in all these things, they consider our traditions as superstition’.
My aunt also had joined that discussion, contributing from her figments of imagination. She had gone to the extent of expressing her worries about me getting lost at the airport!
“London is a big city; the airport also will be very big. How will you find your way at the airport? You may miss your next flight at the London transit. Maybe you should have allowed your father to accompany you”, she had remarked.
“Yes, and I could have carried a feeding bottle with me too!” had been my reply.
Over the last week I have offended almost all with such scornful remarks. I really feel sorry for having done that, but then they too should have realized that it was time that I should move out of their safe cocoon and step out into the real world.

The taxi was waiting outside. The bags had been placed in the rear end of the vehicle. It was time to leave. I waved goodbye to all of them. Grandpa and Grandma can’t climb down the stairs, so they were looking out of the balcony and summed up their important advices for the final time. My Mom and aunt stood at one corner, trying to control their tears. Our maid, maybe I should call her my governess, walked up to me and said, “I have packed some nimki and goja for you. Have them if you feel hungry on the way.”
Dad never expresses his emotions, but his nervous behavior tells it all. He kept on reminding me that I should call home once from the transit and also once after I reach the University.
A few neighbors also waved at me from their windows as my cab start rolled on.

All these days I was really sick and tired of all their worries and advices, and I was praying for this day to come when I can fly away. But when the time to leave finally came, somebody kept on saying in my head, ‘They all care for you so much, why are you leaving them? Will you ever come back to live with them?....There is still some time, you can still cancel the air tickets!!”

I turned around to look out of the rear window and I could still see my house at the end of the road.
“Driverji, jaara car ko rokhiye….”