I seem to find myself in the city of Istanbul during crossroads
of my life where I have just finished one phase, and am embarking on another –
times heralding a changes of some note, such as uprooting myself from one city
to another, and leaving behind the security of a stable law firm salary.
In May 2012, I quit my first job with a law firm in Bombay
to move back to Delhi to work there. I took a five week break to travel on my
own in Turkey and then to London. Istanbul formed the starting point of my
wanderings, and was also the city from which I would embark on a more
adventurous exploration of the “interiors of Turkey”.
In September 2017, I find myself at the brink of an entirely
different adventure – to quit another job in a law firm (one in Delhi, this
time) and seek higher studies at a relatively advanced age, entailing my first
entry into Continental Europe (barring the tiny sliver of Istanbul, which
technically qualifies as the aforesaid first entry).
On board my flight to Istanbul, I note with some amusement
that I am taking the same flight I took five years ago: Turkish Airlines flight
TK-717, except it used to depart at 6:05 a.m. in 2012, while the 2017 iteration
takes off ten minutes later, at 6:15 a.m. I note also that my hand baggage is
the same one that I carried five years ago. It is possibly heavier now,
burdened as it is by the strain of an Indian student moving to study in colder
latitudes, but there is symbolism in the fact that it still bears the thick red
cardboard tag of Turkish Airlines (for some reason, I liked it too much to
remove it all these years).
It is a strange thing but sometimes memories get embedded in
smells. I realize this as I step out of Turkish Airlines flight TK-717 into the
crisp 20 degree celsius air, and I am taken back to my hostel from five years
ago, and to the street it was located on – the bustling Istiklal Caddesi. I can
only describe this smell as a delightful amalgam of delicious Turkish food
and a fabric softener that smells fresh and comforting at the same time.
Somehow this strange combination does not seem unpalatable in the least.
My layover in Istanbul is a shade under five hours, not
offering enough time to get out of the airport and experience first-hand how
much this city has changed in the past sixty four months. But an excellent
lounge at the airport provides me with a slice of Istanbul at the
reasonable/unreasonable price of 30 Euros. Apart from the excellent shower and
spotless bathroom facilities (for both of which I would give due credit to the
Turkish sense of hospitality and hygiene), I had the chance to experience some
of the incredible food and beverages of Istanbul without leaving the airport. Köfte, peynir, mozzarella balls, varied beans and
salads. Beer and more beer. Çay. It felt good to be transported back to the few days in
2012 when I had these at my disposal in abundance.
May 2012 and September 2017, in my life, form
important junctures – to open myself to new life experiences, and letting go a
bit, including of conventional ideas of job security and a steady salary.
Istanbul was a great place to start both journeys. To that I say: Şerefe!
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