Customs these days.’
She showed her uncle the new tickets and asked if he’d got all the papers officialized. He gave them over.
‘Which route?’ Mr Thipureddy asked.
‘B. Ashgabat to Turkey. Then Europe.’
‘You don’t get seasick, do you?’ Mr Thipureddy said to Tochi. ‘But Arhan will look after you.’
The niece looked up from palming through Tochi’s documents. ‘It’s Deniz now. How long since your last carry-over?’
‘Not since that business with the food on the plane.’
She said to Tochi, ‘The food on the plane is free. Do you understand? Don’t try to pay for it. Don’t cause a scene – just eat it.’
Tochi thanked Mr Thipureddy, who wished him the best of luck, and followed the niece into the airport. She talked him through what to expect, what he’d have to do. It sounded like a routine she was ploughing through, even where she said she was going to repeat the key points because she could tell he was nervous. She gave him a small red rucksack to hold over his shoulder – ‘A book, toothbrush, socks. Motor magazines. I don’t know why you boys never bring hand luggage. It looks so suspicious’ – and a bright green-and-gold ribbon to tie onto the bag before he got to Turkey. It was how the driver would recognize him.
‘Won’t that look suspicious?’ he asked.
‘On a plane with Indians? It’ll look restrained.’
She asked if her uncle had shown him how to use an escalator – moving stairs. He said he hadn’t and she made a frustrated noise. She looked at the watchface on the underside of her slender wrist. ‘We don’t have time now. You’ll have to just work it out.’
They checked in his suitcase, where a woman name-badged Annie stamped his ticket and fake passport and wished him a safe flight. He put the red rucksack through security and rejoined the niece on the other side of the beeping electronic arch. She checked the boarding time and pointed out the gate. Then she extended her hand and wished him very good luck.
‘If anyone stops you or asks you anything, just remember what I told you. But Annie will be on the flight.’
‘Thank you,’ Tochi said.
She seemed about to go, half turning. ‘I was sorry to hear about your family.’
Tochi said nothing.
She sighed. ‘Well, let us know how you get on.’ And she walked back, ignoring the security guard who laughed and asked her how much she’d pocketed this time.
The boarding call was announced and her instructions started to churn in his mind. He looked to the floor, fighting his nerves, then got on the plane and found his window seat and belted himself in. Somehow – the graceful stewardesses, the exasperated passengers, the hard, straight seats – it all looked as he’d expected it to. An elderly Sikh man in a three-piece suit sat next to him.
The plane began to move. He looked out of the window at the dirty white span of wing veering away and beyond that to the floodlit luggage men playing cards on the bottom step of a mobile staircase. Then the plane started to speed up and there was a savage oncoming roar as Tochi felt himself forced back into his seat. He could see the luggage men clasping their cards to their chest and their trousers yapping wildly about their ankles and then the ground tilted away and the dark sky opened, beckoned, and a sense of being freed, of freedom, poured beautifully through him.
He didn’t see Annie again until they arrived in Ashgabat, when he took up his rucksack and followed everyone out of the plane and into the airport. She was sitting behind a glass counter, as though she’d always been there. People were reaching for their documents and joining one of two queues. He waited in Annie’s line. She had a serious face, which complemented the way she stamped tickets and dispatched passengers on their way. When he gave over his documents, she glanced up briefly, then applied the circular green stamp and moved on to the next.
He filed into the waiting room: a
She showed her uncle the new tickets and asked if he’d got all the papers officialized. He gave them over.
‘Which route?’ Mr Thipureddy asked.
‘B. Ashgabat to Turkey. Then Europe.’
‘You don’t get seasick, do you?’ Mr Thipureddy said to Tochi. ‘But Arhan will look after you.’
The niece looked up from palming through Tochi’s documents. ‘It’s Deniz now. How long since your last carry-over?’
‘Not since that business with the food on the plane.’
She said to Tochi, ‘The food on the plane is free. Do you understand? Don’t try to pay for it. Don’t cause a scene – just eat it.’
Tochi thanked Mr Thipureddy, who wished him the best of luck, and followed the niece into the airport. She talked him through what to expect, what he’d have to do. It sounded like a routine she was ploughing through, even where she said she was going to repeat the key points because she could tell he was nervous. She gave him a small red rucksack to hold over his shoulder – ‘A book, toothbrush, socks. Motor magazines. I don’t know why you boys never bring hand luggage. It looks so suspicious’ – and a bright green-and-gold ribbon to tie onto the bag before he got to Turkey. It was how the driver would recognize him.
‘Won’t that look suspicious?’ he asked.
‘On a plane with Indians? It’ll look restrained.’
She asked if her uncle had shown him how to use an escalator – moving stairs. He said he hadn’t and she made a frustrated noise. She looked at the watchface on the underside of her slender wrist. ‘We don’t have time now. You’ll have to just work it out.’
They checked in his suitcase, where a woman name-badged Annie stamped his ticket and fake passport and wished him a safe flight. He put the red rucksack through security and rejoined the niece on the other side of the beeping electronic arch. She checked the boarding time and pointed out the gate. Then she extended her hand and wished him very good luck.
‘If anyone stops you or asks you anything, just remember what I told you. But Annie will be on the flight.’
‘Thank you,’ Tochi said.
She seemed about to go, half turning. ‘I was sorry to hear about your family.’
Tochi said nothing.
She sighed. ‘Well, let us know how you get on.’ And she walked back, ignoring the security guard who laughed and asked her how much she’d pocketed this time.
The boarding call was announced and her instructions started to churn in his mind. He looked to the floor, fighting his nerves, then got on the plane and found his window seat and belted himself in. Somehow – the graceful stewardesses, the exasperated passengers, the hard, straight seats – it all looked as he’d expected it to. An elderly Sikh man in a three-piece suit sat next to him.
The plane began to move. He looked out of the window at the dirty white span of wing veering away and beyond that to the floodlit luggage men playing cards on the bottom step of a mobile staircase. Then the plane started to speed up and there was a savage oncoming roar as Tochi felt himself forced back into his seat. He could see the luggage men clasping their cards to their chest and their trousers yapping wildly about their ankles and then the ground tilted away and the dark sky opened, beckoned, and a sense of being freed, of freedom, poured beautifully through him.
He didn’t see Annie again until they arrived in Ashgabat, when he took up his rucksack and followed everyone out of the plane and into the airport. She was sitting behind a glass counter, as though she’d always been there. People were reaching for their documents and joining one of two queues. He waited in Annie’s line. She had a serious face, which complemented the way she stamped tickets and dispatched passengers on their way. When he gave over his documents, she glanced up briefly, then applied the circular green stamp and moved on to the next.
He filed into the waiting room: a
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