God at the Terminal

Close to mid-night, the aircraft landed at Terminal 2. All passengers hurried out and rushed through their arrival routines. I moved at a leisurely pace. My connecting flight was scheduled to take-off only after 4 hours. So, I didn’t pay much attention to the persistent announcements. I soon found out that the connecting flight was delayed, and would take-off from Terminal 4 only after 12 hours. The airline arranged to accommodate passengers in a near-by partner hotel. I misunderstood the instructions, missed the passenger shuttle to the hotel, and found myself stranded at the terminal. Soon the arrival lounge and the terminal became deserted.

 I looked around and noticed a row of coin-operated telephone stalls, a coin-operated beverage-n-snacks dispenser, empty seats, empty reservation desks, few TSA staff, few Delta Connection Carrier staff, and a group of cheerful airport cleaning crew.

 I had some currency coins. The telephone ate up two coins before connecting me to my folks. I put the remaining coins in the beverage dispenser and selected a blue Gatorade drink. Two men stopped by and told: Hey, it might not be safe over here. Why don’t you go over to Terminal 4? We are going there...you can join us.
 Should I trust them? My intuition was silent. I could not tolerate the deafening silence in Terminal 2. I did not know how to reach Terminal 4. After evaluating my options, I decided to follow them at a distance. I stepped out of the terminal building and shivered in the chill, cold air. My jacket was simply not protecting me. I also had to haul two check-in bags. Maybe I should have asked them about the free ground transportation service. They were moving too fast and I could not keep up.

 Then, I heard the sound of a luggage trolley. I turned around and noticed a calm looking gentleman. And he looked unmistakably Indian. I had not seen him earlier at the terminal. Flooded with relief at spotting one of my country folk, I asked whether I could join him. It did not occur to me that he might be heading to some other terminal. Thankfully, he said: Sure! I am headed to Terminal 4!
 Soon, we reached Terminal 4. The place was buzzing with people from various nationalities, shops, restaurants, eating joints, and a gaming area for kids. I liked Terminal 4.

 The Indian traveller was a Doctor by profession. He was settled in America, married to an American lady who was more Indian than most young Indian women. He showed me her photograph and I noticed her Indian dress, braided hair, and the red dot on the forehead. The Doctor spoke about his job, and enquired about my work and current assignment.

 There were many Indian travellers in the departure lounge. An elderly Sikh gentleman pushing his luggage trolley stopped nearby. Addressing no one in particular, he said “Bhai, koi mujhe batayaga yeh jo flight hai woh kaunsi gate pe aayegi? (…which gate will my flight depart...?) He seemed confused. Most of us (including me) simply ‘did not hear’ him and continued with our books, conversations, etc.

However, the Doctor got up, went up to the Sikh gentleman and guided him to a nearby chair. Speaking in clear Hindi, the Doctor patiently explained the departure procedures. The elderly man instantly relaxed in the company of this Doctor. The Skih gentleman soon warmed up and shared many interesting stories about his life....My wife works for the UN Accounts office. She has a transferable job. She moves from country to country. I accompany her everywhere. And, I always find a job. Where-ever I go, which-ever country, I always find work. I work in the local Gurudwara – on some days I help in the kitchen, some days I sweep the floors, some days I guard devotees’ foot wear, etc. There’s always work to be done. And I like my work. I work with passion. My children are educated, well-settled, and they travel all over the world. I am at peace...

He spoke loudly in Hindi. This disturbed other passengers and they gave us disgusted looks. I was embarrassed. However, the Doctor allowed the elderly man to talk. He was a good listener, asked relevant questions, made wise observations, cracked jokes, and did not feel embarrassed at all. I was sleepy, not attentive, and made only a half-hearted attempt to join their conversation.

 Soon, it was time to depart. The Doctor used his digital camera and shot a photograph of himself with the elderly gentleman. He turned the camera screen towards the elderly man and showed him their photograph. The Sikh gentleman was visibly impressed and happy. The Doctor then gave him a warm hug and escorted him to the departure gate.

 At the gate, the elderly man turned to the Doctor and said: Aap me bahut achhayi hai...Maine appae ke ander bhagwaan ko dekha. Aap bhaagwan ho...(...There’s lot of goodness in you. I can see God in you. You are God...)
I agree. The Doctor mysteriously materialised and guided both of us when we needed help.

A couple of years have passed since this amazing encounter at Terminal 4. And now reflecting back, my thoughts:
I missed an opportunity to help an elderly man. But, God did not miss.
I missed an opportunity to learn from the elderly gentleman’s wisdom. But God did not miss.
I missed an opportunity to give the God in me a chance.
But God gave me an opportunity to meet him. And God gave the Sikh gentleman an opportunity to pose with him.