Traveler From MNL

He ran towards the departure area, looking to find a familiar face. I tapped the giant glass wall that separated us. His eyes found me. “They won’t let me out anymore”, I told him. He looked at me with a piercing sadness as I showed him my boarding pass. I am leaving in an hour to go back to Manila, but I am leaving my heart in Bangalore. Behind the glass we talked through our mobiles, saying the saddest words ever told.“It’s not going to be the last time” he said as he fought back the tears. I disagreed.

Six days ago I arrived in the thriving city in the south of India. After enduring 2 days of missed flight and delays, unpredictable monsoon rains, scary turbulence, arguments, frustrations, and last minute contemplation of whether I should push this trip, I finally landed. I looked for him in the crowd in the arrival area, hoping he’ll be there to make me feel alright. I needed to feel safe. I looked at the crowd once more, there I found a tall, dark man with charming set of eyes holding a sign with my name on it. It wasn't him. It was the chauffeur the hotel sent to pick me up.

I observed this new world from the untainted windows of the luxury car. The scenes weren't totally new. I see these daily back home - people trying to board a loaded bus in the rush hour, cars honking, barefooted kids running, and random people on the streets. Yet seeing Hindu temples left and right, women on saris, men in turbans, Bollywood stars on huge billboards, and the distinct Indian features of most, still made it so foreign to me. It was a glimpsed of the country and culture I so longed to see–a fascination that started 9 years ago when we first met.

The next few days exposed me to what this city has to offer. I visited the historic Bangalore Palace, walked the MG & Brigade roads that the locals frequent, rode an auto rickshaw, witnessed Kollywood movie set on location, smelled the exotic aroma of biryani, watched a Cricket game, and spent magical moments with him. Bangalore distracted me too much it made me forget all these has an ending.

Still on the phone, I headed to where the immigration is. From the blurry glass we saw each other again from the distance. Our time was running out. He cried as he started to walk away but stopped and turned to see me several times until he faded before my eyes. It was the day India broke my heart. The country I once loved backfired. The culture of dowry and arranged marriage hurt me–his family arranged him to marry someone else.