It's a crowded airport, with only limited space for seating and even little open space. Chennai is warm but the airport is sufficiently cold, I have a coat on the chair next to mine, certainly not something I would need again in this trip.
So here it is – my promised post on ‘The White Paper’. It’s a blank paper, with nothing on it. And it’s white, like snow, something, that when held in hands can just melt away. On the face of it, it’s absurd to make any meaning out of a white paper, but look deeply and an array of meanings and possibilities open up. It could be a message, the meaning of which is known only to the one who receives it. As I write this, the Kingfisher is announcing the departure of it flight to Port Blair. I wonder if I could just forget Kolkata and leave for Port Blair, it’s certainly a tempting thought.
Back to the white paper, it’s something which can be both mundane and surprisingly seductive, with many promises that are left open to the imagination of the receiver. But there could also be a white paper for oneself, something that you would like to fill up on your own and only for yourself. Like life - sadly that is rarely so white, blank and pure. The paper of life is generally scribbled with excessive notes and thoughts at almost all points of time, and we still try and add more and more layers of words, one over the other, over and over again. Some are lost, and some live, but all are there.
Ma called up to say that Delhi is extremely foggy, they are still out and on their way to Gurgaon to Guddu’s place. I had another meeting planned for today morning, but its postponed for later. Fog is also white. But it can be easily blown away and disappear, like snow which is also temporary.
p.s. this was written months ago, on a cold winter morning while my flight to Kolkata was diverted through Chennai, instead of Delhi, where I ended up missing an important rendezvous.