The moon mission

THE MOON <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comffice:smarttags" /><st1:City w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">MISSION</st1lace></st1:City>
[This true story is inspired by Sabitha's article from the traveller's desk]

The year-1980.I am taking the aerial route from Hyderabad to Goa via Bombay as it was then called.I am carrying around 30 kgs of seedless grapes for my friends in Goa.I book the excess baggage in my colleague’s ticket upto Bombay.At Bombay airport, I start scouting for Goa passengers with less baggage so as to push my excess baggage free of charges.That was a time, when people unhesitatingly accepted excess baggage from fellow passengers and exchanged biscuits in trains.After intense scrutiny, I spot a 50 plus gentleman immaculately dressed in a white safari and carrying just an overnighter.What impresses me is his shock of curly hair tending to turn grey and thick military moustache trained upwards.I accost this gentleman standing in the queue for checking, explain my predicament and seek his help in accommodating the excess baggage.The gentleman asks me—Is it Anab-e-shahi or seedless.I reply-seedless.Do you collect the cost from your friends or is it free?I say it is a present from me to my friends.He hands over his ticket to me and I get into the queue with his baggage.We have adjoining seats in the flight and I am carrying the baggage slips.

After the flight takes off and when snacks are served the gentleman asks the airhostess for “a vomiting bag”..His nomenclature for the garbage disposal bag sends a shiver down my spine.I become alert andmove away slightly in my seat and look at my co passenger nervously.He takes the snacks served by the airhostess and neatly packs it in the garbage bag,supplied earlier.He turns towards me and tells me,”I always present these snacks to my driver who waits patiently for hours for my arrival”.I am relieved and just to pass time I ask him about his profession.He says “I have a shop in –“,mentions the name of a famous beach..”I sell snacks and soft drinks ,but between you and me,I peddle drugs.”Iam taken aback.Immediately I examine the baggage slips in my hand and try to remember the slip number for his baggage.I have visions of Policemen waiting at the <st1lace w:st="on">Goa</st1lace> airport and pushing me and the baggage into the police van while the gentleman goes scot-free.

Just to get over my fear,I ask him about the effect of drug,on a human being, as this is the first time I have a chance to be acquainted with a drug peddler.He says that” once you take drug you go to the moon and stay there for a couple ofdays.I then ask him what happens.”You come back”he says,: see whether everything is alright with the world and then once satisfied,take the drug and go back to the moon once again.”I am mesmerized by his imaginative explanation and with some hesitation I ask him whether he is also on drugs.He says,”No.like a moon scientist I don’t go to the moon but help people in their moon mission “.Emboldened, I ask him whether it is not wrong to peddle drugs.He says ,”I don’t go out of the way to entice people to drugs.but only meet the requirements of my clientele .If I don’t supply,they will go elsewhere. I am not here to sit on judgement whether taking drugs is good or bad”.I curse myself for having approached this man for saving a few hundred rupees and I feel like shifting to another seat immediately.

We land in Goa.I am relteved to see that a posse of policemen is not waiting for us.The gentleman picks up his baggage and says,”How did you like my story?”I get airsick and I don’t like bumpy flights.I tell a story and enjoy my travel watching the myriad emotions appearing in my copassenger’s face after hearing my story.”He hands me his business card which shows that he is the owner of a well known garment shop.I stand there dumbfounded and transfixed as my co passenger waves me good bye with a twinkle in his eye.