Thursday, April 29, 2010

Who will I be?

How to cope when the doctor tells you that your mum has only one month left? The truth is, you can’t, you won’t and you don’t. There is no way to cope with such news. Not especially when your mum is your only friend, your only parent, your only relative left. And she happens to be the person you love most in your entire life. Her arms are the only ones strong enough to make you feel protected when you are embraced by them. You know that you cannot be harmed with her around. The smell of her skin is familiar enough to coax you to sleep. Her smile makes you smile, knowing that your life is complete.


Who am I without her?


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Monday, April 19, 2010

Questions from a grumpy passenger

The eruption of the volcano in Iceland last week paralyzed aviation in Europe. The microscopic but potentially menacing volcanic grit is capable of knocking out jet engines. With all airports closed, countless passengers are left stranding in foreign land and undelivered cargo rot in warehouses.

For stranded travelers, nothing can be done to change natural disasters such as this, except to finger point at our luck. But certainly the situation can be made less devastating with some human effort; for example the airline companies. What is so difficult to diffuse more information about the real situation. Okay, it is a weekend. But can’t the airline offices be opened for this extraordinary situation to help the thousands of passengers? Why are they still observing their official “9 am to 6 pm” working hours ? Why all telephone lines are jammed or even hung? Why must we personally march to the airline office for some information and why only 3 persons manning the counters? Why can’t they deploy more staff to work a little extra hours for their weary clients who are stuck in the airport for the past 48 hours? Why are we not contacted? What is all those advertisements about taking care of their passengers and making them feel at home? Sweet marketing talk?

So many questions from a grumpy exhausted tourist yearning to go home.


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