A Rushed Moscow Morning
This morning was a rush. I am in Russia on a literary visit and needed to buy last-minute souvenirs before my flight home. At 10 am, I hurried to the Europeiskaya mall to buy Russian chocolates for my little grandson, Aadrit. I also remembered my neighbour, a cool guy who recently remarried after being widowed, who had asked for a souvenir. After buying the chocolates and souvenirs, I returned to my hotel, Ibis, near the Kievskaya metro station.
I saw the Kievskii Vokzal railway station, a place from where no trains now go to Kiev due to the war. It brought back memories of visiting Kiev during the Soviet era, a forlorn history for many of us.
A Melancholy Taxi Ride
I was in a hurry as my taxi had arrived to take me to Sheremetyevo Airport. The driver was a 74-year-old man. He recalled the Soviet era and narrated what happened to the Russian people after the dissolution of their huge country. By 11:30 am, he was regretfully recalling the post-dissolution days, feeling the people were betrayed by the government. He spoke of how people had deposited all their Russian roubles, hoping to get them back in new currencies, and were cheated.
Trouble at the Airport: A Delayed Departure
My Qatar Airways flight, QR 340, was scheduled for 17:05 but was delayed until 21:50 for unseen reasons. Boarding was supposed to start at 20:50 but didn’t begin until 21:50. One passenger was very annoyed and asked for the reason; we learned the plane was still being refueled.
Boarding was complete by 22:25. Then, a strange incident occurred. A Russian passenger, nearly 65, was told he couldn’t fly. We realized this when he started shouting. The captain came to convince him to deplane. A stewardess told us he had health issues that prevented him from flying and that the police were coming to take him away. The police arrived and escorted him off. As he left, he told the captain he would sue the airline for breaching his rights.
These visuals, along with another where a dishevelled woman shouting in Spanish was taken to a corner, gave me a vague impression of a bad omen. Finally, at 23:32, our plane took off for Doha.
A Long Night and a Confusing Transit in Doha
I usually avoid eating late at night, but there was no way to rest hungry on this long flight. A stewardess woke me up to offer food, and I ate, not wanting to be hungry for the eight-hour transit in Doha.
We landed at Doha Airport exactly at 4:20 in the morning. I was rebooked on a 10:30 morning flight to Kathmandu. An information desk agent, who was definitely Indian, directed me to Gate A10. I walked a long way and rested there until 9:15 am, only to find the gate deserted. The agent there firmly told me I was at the wrong gate and to go to C4.
Oh, it was a chain of troubles from yesterday! I ran and found a long queue of Nepali passengers at Gate C4. They had all returned from Qatar and other countries for our great festival, Dashain. I confirmed the queue was for my flight, QR 644, and joined them just in time for boarding.
The Final Approach: Homeward Bound
The Qatar Airways 787 is in the sky, and it’s now 13:45 Doha time. Our plane has flown over the Ganges and is nearing the Nepal border. The captain has just announced that it is 16:40 in Nepal.
We have crossed the skyline of our beloved Butwal town and just passed over our Narayani River. The plane is on a southern approach to Kathmandu, so our Himalayas are not very close. The peaks of the Annapurna range to the north are partly clad with clouds. We are flying along the midline between Bharatpur and Birgunj and taking a gentle turn to the north.
A Safe Landing and Final Thoughts
The plane is inclining downward for landing. We are landing now. We have safely landed.
As the wheels touched the runway in Kathmandu, my mind flashed back to the faces of the Congress. I remembered the passionate arguments of Margarita, the gentle wisdom of Aleksandra, the bright energy of Rose, the insightful poetry of Katya, and the warm camaraderie of Jamil. Bill was a very friendly comrade. They, and so many others from 62 countries, made the World Organization of Writers Congress in Moscow a truly memorable event.
Now, all that disappears into my immediate reunion with my little grandson and homecoming. I’m excited to see Aadrit with lots of chocolates. My whole week-long trip is now complete.
[The writer is an international multilingual poet and writer from Nepal]
