Breaking the jinx..!

HOW could you make an eighty year old aunt on a wheel chair wait outside the airport for you?” asked my wife yesterday, “especially after you were there much before her flight came in?” “I don’t know,” I said miserably putting my head down.
Somehow me, and picking up people from railway stations, bus stands and airports don’t go together. It’s not that this syndrome started yesterday; I was born with it. “There ma, there!” I would wave excitedly to somebody in a white sari resembling an aunt and as mother and little me would scramble to get to what I’d seen, the real aunt, not dressed in anything resembling a sari slipped past and would be making calls home to ask where her sister who was supposed to meet her at the station was.
Maybe mother gave up or father felt I was old enough to go to the station alone and despite even more relatives giving me the slip, my services were not discontinued, “Where were you Bob?” “On platform 5, I tell you I was on platform 5!”
“But I looked all over platform 5 for you!” “I saw the engine coming in, I stood at the beginning of the Central station…””Central?” “Yeah Central!” “But I told you Dadar!” And this morning, very early in the morning, “I told my driver Terminal 2C okay? The plane’s come in already!” My driver looked bored, nodded, rolled up the glass and promptly fell asleep. I guess he knew his master, knew it was going to be a long haul; it was.
My aunt got off at Terminal 2C, I waited at Terminal 2B, sitting on some plastic debris, joined by a girl who told me she reads my column in the local paper. “You do?”
“Yes, but you look different in the picture!” “Yeah,” I agreed smiling at her light brown eyes, “That photograph doesn’t do justice to me!” “You are older!” I curse her silently as the phone rings, “Bob where are you?
Those loaders who’ve pushed your aunt outside the airport are getting impatient! They say they are standing near the coke stand.”
And as I was returning with a slightly subdued aunt, the phone rings again, “We’re just getting into the plane Bob! Should be there in eight hours, terminal 2C!”
“Who’s it?” asks my aunt. “Friends coming from England, have to meet them at the airport tomorrow morning!” “I’ll come with you!” “But t t ,” I stammer and next morning she sits besides me. “Why did you bring your aunt to the airport,” they whisper as they sit in my car.
“So you could actually come back with him!” chuckles my aunt, “Someone had to lift the spell and break the jinx..!”
—Email: bobsbanter@gmail.com

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