“Inner peace, inner peace,”I muttered, gritting my teeth as the fat elbow came down on my forearm yet again. The flight to Kuala Lumpur was packed to the rafters, so there was no scope of getting away from this infinitely annoying co-passenger by changing seats. I was stuck in a middle seat of the middle block, by itself an unenviable position, and here was this woman constantly spilling over onto my space.
The moment I boarded the aircraft and found my seat, I had sensed this was going to be a difficult flight. The overweight, middle-aged woman, the sort typically — and unkindly — called behenji in Delhi, looked at me in incomprehension when I asked her to pick up her handbag from my seat. The request had to be repeated before the bag was shifted. Then, as soon as I sat down, she nonchalantly slumped against me, apparently using me as a travel pillow for her pre-takeoff snooze. Sharp taps against her shoulÂder and a scowl corrected this situaÂtion, but only for the time being.
Over the next several hours, someÂtimes I felt her foot landing on mine, sometimes her arm crushing my own on the armrest, and in between all this, her full weight against me every now and then. To dislodge her, the taps had to replaced by a gentle push, then a not-so-gentle push, and finally one anÂgry yell: “Why can’t you sit up straight? Why do you keep doing this?” It soundÂed rather more forceful in Hindi. In return, I got an injured look that could be translated as: “What are you upset about?” Well, how would she know? Respect for another person’s physical space is not one of the great virtues of Indians, as I see from everyday counÂters, be it at supermarket queues or on Metro platforms. This woman was not being intentionally irritating; she was just being herself.