An irascible monsoon downpour pounded the heavy glass windows of the IRSO chief’s office at Antrix Bhavan in Bengaluru. Inside, the chief sat hunched over his desk, serious and focused, reading a groundbreaking research paper brought by a hitherto unknown assistant professor from IIT Palakkad. As Rajeev flicked back and forth through the pages, his eyes shone with awe under the soft yellow glow of the single pastel lamp that sat squarely on his table. Lata, a little nervous but also somewhat excited, sat across from him, waiting for his response, fidgeting with the strap of her bag. It had taken her over a month to get an appointment with Rajeev, and it had only taken a mountain of correspondence to do so.
With Rajeev’s eyes still glued to the stack of papers, Lata’s nervous excitement waned, and her eyes wandered around the room. The office was minimal, official, and rather dull-looking, much like hers at the institute, but only bigger. There was a large brown table in the center of the room, a fabric-covered sofa tucked into one corner, and a tall, wide bookshelf stuffed with books that covered an entire wall. The light fixtures, the one hanging from the high ceiling and the one on the table, filled the space in a warm, golden glow.
Right then, breaking the awkward silence that hung in the office, a server — a tall, lanky middle-aged man with short, cropped hair and thick, bushy eyebrows — cracked open the office door and nonchalantly entered with cups of steaming hot chai. Rajeev, not wanting to be disturbed, didn’t lift his eyes from the report and gestured for the man to set the cups on the table and leave.
It was only now, when Lata was sipping on her tea, that her gaze finally fell upon the chief. She observed that his skin was deep brown, like that of well-roasted coffee. His face was long, while his straight black hair, combed back, framed a broad, sculpted forehead. A thick, bulky nose sat squarely over shapely, dark lips, creating a neat triangle. But it was his jawline, sharp and prominent, angling into a pointy chin, that made him look way more serious in person than when she had seen him on TV during the announcement of the success of the Mars Rover mission the year before.
An entire hour had dissolved away in suspenseful silence. The rain had subsided, and the hushed din of the downpour on the windows had quietened. The cup of tea next to Rajeev was untouched and had gone cold, while Lata had already had her second cup. She knew this was the third time he was reading through her report; she had counted.
Abruptly, as if reaching some grand conclusion, Rajeev closed the report and flicked the document away, watching it slide off to one side. He stood up excitedly and began pacing around his roomy office, whispering something to himself. Lata knew the paper was groundbreaking and would have brought out strong reactions from the chief, but not one so dramatic. Her large brown eyes followed him as he walked back and forth. But then he stopped abruptly, swung around and faced her, staring into her eyes.
“The results from all the tests have been rigorously reviewed internally? I know the paper has not been peer reviewed, but can the results be repeated if we did it independently?” Rajeev spoke aloud, firm, the tenor of his voice reflecting his urgency, his question jabbing her.
“Erm, yes, of course,” Lata sat up with a start and spoke nervously while adjusting her mustard-yellow shirt.
“Good!”
Rajeev walked back to his desk, picked up the secure line, and spoke in a stern but polite tone, “Get me the IAF station chief,” and hung up the phone.
The phone rang back instantly, and Rajeev picked it up swiftly.
“Hi, chief, I need an urgent transport to the capital, this is an Alpha-Level-1 request. I have a co-passenger; her credentials are being forwarded to your office as we speak. Ok, sure, I will wait.” Cupping the receiver, Rajeev whispered to Lata, “I hope you’ve packed.”
“Yes, chief, ok, we will be at the Yelahanka airport in 40 minutes, thanks. Jai Hind.” Rajeev hung up the phone and instantly dialed his assistant, “Send Lata’s credentials to the IAF Station chief’s office for verification.”
“Lata, let’s go.” Rajeev stood up, picked up his leather bag, and rushed towards the door.
Lata found herself dazed. When she had left her apartment in the morning, all she had imagined was that she would show her work to Rajeev, the head of IRSO, the Indian Research and Space Organization, take the evening flight and be back home by the end of the day, just in time to slump into her couch, sip wine, and watch something on Netflix.
“Do I need to go? I mean, am I needed? All my research is with you already.” Lata rambled nervously as she rushed behind Rajeev.
“Of course, who else is going to explain your findings to the PM?” Rajeev spoke without looking back.
They were already in the parking lot.
“The PM! Are we going to meet the Prime Minister of India?”
“Yes, the Prime Minister. Get in the car, Lata.” They were beside a large black SUV.
Not knowing what else to do, Lata opened the heavy doors of the SUV and slid onto the plush leather seats that sank beneath her. She noticed that it was very dim inside — the darkened windows blocked almost all the light from outside.
“Where are we going now? Rajeev, this is all very intimidating. I am a little scared!”
Rajeev, sensing that Lata was freaking out, spoke in a more reassuring tone, “Don’t worry, Lata, I will explain everything. Your discovery transforms our entire understanding of the universe, with immediate and extraordinary implications. I cannot think of anyone else who could explain your work to the Prime Minister better than you. And so I raised an Alpha-Level-1 request, which gives us immediate access to the PM. Presently, we are headed to Yelahanka airbase, where we will board an IAF plane to Delhi.”
As soon as their car left the parking lot, the sky darkened once again, and fat droplets of rain began pelting the city of Bengaluru. The fat, black SUV cared little for the weather; it angrily zipped through the afternoon traffic. Inside, Lata’s mind was still reeling with a flurry of thoughts. In one moment, she felt elated about meeting the PM, but in the very next moment, she became nervous, worrying about mundane things, such as her choice of pants and her cheap shoes.
Several minutes later, they arrived at the air force base. The SUV screeched to a stop on the tarmac under the pouring rain. Large black umbrellas snapped outside as Rajeev and Lata got off. In front of them was a sleek black Embraer Legacy 600 aircraft. Lata had never travelled anything other than commercial jets, and so, the small plane immediately fascinated her. She stood a few moments observing the plane — its small jet engines, its curved wingtips, and its streamlined tail — before rushing inside. When she stepped inside, she noticed the plane had soft, beige-colored interiors, seven comfortable, deep-brown leather seats, a galley at the front, and a toilet at the back. Rajeev was already sitting in one of the seats when Lata staggered through the narrow aisle and sat opposite him, still looking around the plane like a kid in a candy store.
The flight captain, a tall man with a bushy mustache, came bursting into the cabin and announced, “Hello, sir, I am the captain. My name is Umar Jabbar, and I will be flying you today. The plane is primed and fueled. We are ready to take off on the dot. I was told we will be flying to Delhi. Do you have any preferences?”
“No, just take us as quickly as possible to Safdarjung airport.”
“Sure, we will be on our way as soon as the tower clears us. We are expecting strong monsoon winds and slipstreams. Please strap yourselves in; it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
“Thanks, Umar.”
Before Lata could open her mouth to thank Umar, he turned on his heels and was back in the cockpit.
“If you are hungry, you can get something to eat in the galley after we take off. In the meantime, I am going to get some shut-eye.” Rajeev immediately slouched into his chair and closed his eyes. Lata, though, was too excited to get even a hint of rest. She sat there staring out the windows.
After a speedy taxi, the plane came to a halt on the far edge of the main runway. The rain was falling hard now. Suddenly, the powerful twin jet engines of the Embraer roared to life, filling the cabin with a high-pitched whine, and the plane accelerated down the runway. Within minutes, the aircraft was airborne and hurriedly shot towards the gray, gloomy sky at a fairly sharp angle, shaking and rattling hard. Lata was startled by the intensity of the acceleration. The angle of attack during takeoff was so sharp that it made her anxious.
Only when the plane pierced through the thick clouds, and the heavy shaking from the turbulence finally subsided, did Lata relax. Basking under a bright sun at 35,000 feet, dazzling sunlight flooded through the windows and lit the cabin in warm tones. It was beautiful outside. The gloomy gray of the monsoon was replaced by an endless ocean of bright white clouds, with the occasional towering cumulonimbus piercing through.
Lata sat silently, peering out of the windows. Her deep brown skin caught the fresh sunshine like polished teak. Her body, though, was slightly plump. It seemed she had gained the weight quite recently, as the shirt she was wearing was most definitely one size smaller. The buttons pulled tightly on the buttonholes, and she had to adjust the shirt often so it would sit well on her and not show through the gaps.
On her way to meet the prime minister of the country, there should’ve been a smile on her face, but instead it was marked by a tinge of sadness. Her eyes were moistened with tears. Lata lived a lonely life in Palakkad, and she knew that after the whole charade of presenting the paper to the PM was done, the gatekeepers of the nation would take over from her and march her back to her forlorn den. Then life would return to its drudgery once again. She would once again work mindlessly during the day and return to her sad, empty home, spending the nights lamenting her failed marriage and her loneliness. Things wouldn’t have been so bad if she could only speak to her mother and father. But they, too, had left her. She was truly alone in the world. And so, no matter how hard she tried to rouse herself out of her melancholy on that plane, she always ended up falling back into it.
A good part of an hour had passed when Rajeev woke up and called out to Lata, startling her, “Can I get you something to eat?”
Lata straightened up immediately and put on a smile, a make-believe one. A few seconds later, when she looked up, she realized Rajeev was staring at her, waiting for her response. So, she nodded and quickly turned her head towards the airplane window, wiping her tears.
Rajeev got up and made his way to the pantry.
“They have chips, soft drinks, and some ready-to-eat meals. What do you want?”
“I don’t mind some masala tea, if they’ve got any of that,” Lata replied.
“You are in luck; they’ve got ready-mix ginger tea. I think I will also have some of this.”
Rajeev prepared the tea and came out with two steaming cups in his hands and a pack of biscuits in his pocket. He put the cups on the tray and looked at his watch.
“We should be landing in thirty minutes,” Rajeev spoke as sipped his tea.
“Rajeev, I am nervous, I don’t know what to expect from Prime Minister Sarkar.”
“You don’t need to be nervous, Lata; Prime Minister Sarkar is someone whom you will enjoy talking to. He is very different from other career politicians. He carries no pretense and no ego. There is an effortless humility and empathy in him. He possesses a natural intelligence that puts most people at ease. Honestly, I have always enjoyed my discussions with him. You have nothing to worry about. Just make sure you speak straight.”
“Thank you, I will do that.” Lata sipped her tea.
They were close to Delhi and the plane began its final descent. Dusk was gathering around the plane and the sun had just plunged below the horizon. The sky was alight in a spectacular riot of colors, transitioning from a deep golden-orange in the west to a dark blue-black in the east. And where the sun had fallen below the clouds, only a resplendent halo of gold remained.