Woman's Day Special - 2

Behind Those Legs, Is a Woman

Click. Click. Click.  Heels make such an undeniable sound as they tap against the polished granite floor of the airport.  And two beautiful legs in stockings grow out of these heels, meeting the edge of a miniskirt which flirts with the eyes of every man present.  Air hostesses - I wonder who came up with this beautiful idea!  

The very presence of these women brightens up an otherwise boring, mundane wait at the airport with nothing to do.  Dressed in colourful elegance they strut around the place, attracting wide eyed looks.  Their make up is so perfect, you could click a photo of any of them on any day and directly use it for a Loreal colour cosmetic advertisement.  And those legs in miniskirts and stockings, and the heels - those are the culmination of a voyeur's delight.

Last week I was traveling to Mumbai.  As usual, I had a one-and-a-half-hour mundane wait at the airport.  And as usual, it was time to watch the pairs of legs play peek-a-boo from behind the stockings.  Suddenly, one of them slipped and fell.  And in pain - She Screamed !  I jolted out of my semi-consciousness and my widened eyes focused as I came back to my senses.  She had screamed!!  

Yes, she was a woman.  She was human.  When she fell, it hurt her just like it would hurt me.  Airhostess - woman - human ?  Funny, I realised that connection didn't strongly exist in my brain.

Some staff came running to help her.  She wasn't badly hurt, just sprained her ankle lightly.  They helped her limp to the office to give her some first aid.  In a few minutes, she was back in business - still limping a bit, but back in business - and headed towards the security check.

With the commotion over and the queue for a boarding pass lessened, I walked over to get mine (I hate those queues and avoid the long ones whenever possible, especially on short journeys where I don't care what seat I get).  The computer system stalled right when it was my turn, so I chatted up the airline attendant at the counter.  I told Akangshaa that she had a nice name and asked her what part of India was she from and what inspired her to join an airline company.  

Akangshaa is from a town near Delhi.  Her father was holding a clerical position in a government organisation, and her mother does part-time tailoring to support the family.  The family wanted her to be on her own and so her father took a loan to fund an expensive course which leads to a career in airlines.  She worked very hard and was found it hard to accustom to the new rituals of mannerisms, etiquettes and taking on a dolled-up look.  She worked hard and was one of the lucky ones who actually got a placement, as most girls and boys in her batch could not secure a job with any airline even after paying hefty course fees.  She dreamed of flying as no one in her family had ever flown in an airplane.  But she could only secure a ground staff position and hopes to be able to become a cabin crew sometime in her life.  With passing time, it might not be possible for her to do that.  But she is atleast happy to work with a reputed company, have a respectable job, and even though she has to stay away from her family and work odd hours, she is able to support her family back home.  

Blink!  The computer system blinked back to life.  My boarding pass was processed and my luggage transferred into oblivion through a conveyor belt.  My security check had been announced so I went there directly and got myself a metal detector check that proved I wasn't a terrorist or didn't have any plans of blowing up or hijacking a plane.  That morning as I waited in the lounge, I heard a lot of heels click and a saw a lot of shapely legs play peek-a-boo through the stockings.

But my mind wasn't on that anymore.  Akangshaa had distracted me.  The heels and stockings contained the aspirations of a woman I had usually missed - a woman with dreams like any other, ambitious and hard working, toiling at odd hours and staying away from her family for days at length.  The glamour hides the turmoils of her heart, the mascara hides the sigh in her eyes, the clicking heels hide the whisper of her desires.  Dealing with tons of obnoxious self-centered travelers everyday, she hides her scorn with a plastered smile and greets everyone with grace.

That morning in the airport departure lounge, my mind drifted from the heels, stockings and the miniskirts.  I had a new realisation running through me.  Behind each pair of legs, was a woman.