Plane

There is something likable about a mystery. A good one replete with twists, turns, and suspects, is simply mind blowing. Sometimes in life even the people you meet are like a mystery, with their tales of survival, fighting for justice and an uncertain future. I met many people on the plane on the way to Canada and when they left their future like mine was a mystery. I could bask in the hope that there was something good that awaited them. There were so many travellers each with a half completed story to tell with the rest left never to be completed.

As I talked to a man from England who asked me where I had come from. Though I had lived in Canada and US for a while, exploiting the question’s ambiguity I opted for my favourite answer "India". "I love India", he said and began to tell me a story of his co-worker who was also from there. There was something else about that question; it was asked to be after a long time. Most of the time I am assumed to be an Indian without any apprehensions of past, present, and future. Though many would find this a generalization, I do not mind claiming my roots. As I stood near back door of the plane looking at the snow capped mountains and icebergs with my small binoculars I was joined by a young man who was also interested in the view. A small conversation transpired and he asked me what I did. Upon hearing that I was a student at UBC and looking at me, he began to tell me about how the future was certain in Canada and it had many opportunities. He said that he ran a consulting company and they could help me get permanent residency in Canada. I did not have the heart to tell him that I was a citizen as he regaled about all the things Canada had to offer.

After a conversation he walked away pleased to have met me but never quite finishing the mystery that I was already a Canadian.