Posts Tagged ‘first meeting’


Before I Met Her

“What’s the purpose of your visit,” asks an unsmiling Caucasian officer from behind the glass.

It has been a long flight, and most of the passengers around me look visibly tired. I, on the other hand, have birds in my stomach. Its a new country out there; its a long-awaited holiday for me; and most important of all, its the first time I am going to meet her. But I also have a liability to look calm, and non-stupid in this new place.

“Meeting my girlfriend,” I reply to the stern officer.

He was not expecting this answer, and I try to keep an innocent face to lower down my frankness. I think to myself if he can actually deport me back to New Delhi for proclaiming my romantic adventure. An Indian immigration officer would have taken offense. ‘Its still better than saying to meet the President of Armenia,’ I think to myself, ‘and I am not even a Khan.’

“Welcome to Hayastan,” the officer says to me, creating a rhyme with my inside-out-conversations – Khan-Hayastan. He ink-punch my passport with his best ability, confirming – that for the next 11 days – I am legally entitled to date her. I should really hug this officer for amplifying my excitement.

I manage to stick to a “Thank you” as I go past that metal door. ‘But what the hell Hayastan is? Have I boarded a wrong bus, airbus? Is this even a right country?’

There is a stream of thoughts that flows inside my mind. Starting from the day I got introduced to her, to the day we became friends, to the day we e-kissed, to the day we fell in love, to the day I decided to save money to visit her, to the day I did save enough, to the day I bought my airline tickets, to the day my Visa got approved, and to this very day when I am just minutes away from seeing her for the first time without needing a computer screen. This stream must freeze the moment I see her. I’m getting prepared.

The luggage finds me easily; arrows guide me like friends; people clear my ways; and all the borders break loose while I step into Armenia. My eyes search through walking silhouettes, looking for her. But they don’t find her. ‘She must be around’, I repeat in my head several times. But she is nowhere to be seen.

“Where are you M?”

And I get a lump in my throat.

To be continued…..