Fly with me

After a hectic day of getting things together, changing my flight, deciding to leave this evening rather than three days later, sending e-mails, messages and making calls to confirm meetings, getting lots of snacks for the journey up to the clouds, I didn’t give myself a moment to think or breathe.

I was even sending a text message as the wheels lifted from the ground (yikes). But once the reception bars quickly disappeared and I switched off my phone, I looked out of the window at the layers of clouds we were sweeping through, at the hint of pink and hues of orange beginning to colour the evening sky.

I put my head back, reclined my seat and took a deep breath.

I guess when we fly a lot, we sometimes forget to appreciate the incredible fact of flying and the beauty and wonder that races past us as we ascend into the clouds and then settle into a steady pace, then slowly rise again, until we’re at the perfect level (whatever that might be). Now, some five minutes on, I felt as though we were sitting on a bed of clouds, not even moving. Well, apart from the telling noise of the engine.

The speed with which the shades changed from a dim daylight to evening blues, the oranges more pronounced, with a tinge of yellow where it faded into the blue, seemed far quicker than the pace of change we see from the ground. This was probably not true at all, but it certainly felt like it. And I imagined, for a moment, the streets of London somewhere below us, of people buttoning up their coats and tightening their scarves, of the old man carrying shopping bags and walking home at his own pace, possibly less affected by the weather than myself, and of the trees that must have started shedding those crisp autumn leaves.

The sun had been out today, and while I wasn’t walking around or doing anything very interesting, it somehow compensated for the cold. The clouds had disappeared into the blue below the horizon, so dark it looked black, and from that separating line emanated a sliver of orange, settling into a hue of pale yellow where it merged with the white before meeting the expanse of blue above, darker, though not quite as dark as the opaque patch below the horizon.

The lights on the flight were switched on soon enough, the trolleys could be heard moving around, and so ended the fascinating journey outside the window. Well, not necessarily ended, but it didn’t look quite as magical.

Of course, only a short while later, the oranges and blues and yellows disappeared, and all there was left to see was the small light on the wing against the stark backdrop. I yawned. This flight was just meant for sleep.

— Follow Meera Ashish on www.talefourcities.com