The day I returned to work after a month long absence in the United States of America and West Europe, during the fall a few years ago, was the day of my new pair of pure Italian leather shoes I was wearing. For all my colleagues, men and women alike, not merely took an instant liking to them but talked highly of them, almost the entire day, as if they were something unique. How cute, they chorused. They, in fact, thought the world of them. “You could have brought one more pair. Do you think I won’t pay?” said one for whom cribbing was second nature. “I don’t expect anything free from anyone,” he said wistfully. Another colleague made me take out one, and holding it in his hand, he said, “Oh, it is feather light but quite strong. I’m sure, they would last you a lifetime.” They thus talked endlessly of my shoes. I was flabbergasted. I’d hardly expected my footwear to be greeted with such enthusiasm.
In those distant days, I always wanted to go on foreign sojourns. I had heard people say that travelling abroad was an awe-inspiring experience. Sure enough, later on I managed to fulfill my desire – not once, but many times over.
I could travel globally only because my elder brother, who lived abroad, worked in an international airline which gave free annual passages to employees and their near kin. I had taken full advantage of it, travelling far and wide many a time. Time was when going abroad, especially to America and Europe, was thought something great.
However, my neighbors were unaware that I travelled free. They remained in the dark because I hadn’t mentioned to them where my brother worked. The free passage was indeed a bonanza, and I was benefited by it until my brother retired. But the bonanza did not come without a price. Since free passage was subject to load, free travelers always risked being victims of load shedding by the airline in case the flight turned out to be full, and there were fare-paying passengers on the waitlist. I never had that bitter experience save once.
The flight was full that day and the airline resorted to load shedding. A free passage holder like me stood no chance of getting a seat. I was crestfallen. Since I had the habit of giving wide publicity to my travels amongst my neighbours the moment I planned a journey, I didn’t want any of them to see me return. So I tried to sneak into my house, assuring myself that I am unseen by any.
But I wasn’t lucky, for I could not help being seen by a nosey neighbour. Snooping into others’ affairs was his favourite pastime. He looked at me with his prying eyes, and accosted me with questions, “How come you are here? Were you not to travel this morning?” I was ready for him. “Well, since I reached the airport late, I missed the flight.” “What! How can a seasoned traveler like you be late?” He asked. “You know, owing to pressure of work, I returned home from office quite late last night. By the time I finished packing and hit the bed it was one. So, I remained fast asleep even when the alarm went off,” I said. I knew he wasn’t convinced. So before he could worry me with more vexatious questions, I turned tail and fled. Nosey, snooping neighbors, you know, are a pain in the neck.
