An encounter to remember...

t was a brand new Boeing 737-900 flight. It smacked and smelled of newness. The flight attendant told me as I seated myself in the first-class cabin, that this is the second time this beauty is going to be airborne. Large TV screen, clean pale blue seats with spotless covers, enough leg room and sufficient space between adjacent seats for privacy. I was bone tired after a grueling week at work with hardly enough sleep,; so the moment I settled down in my seat, plugged my earphones, opened the biography of Nietzsche ; and after having read a few pages drifted into a blissful sleep. It was 8 A.M in the morning.
It was an hour later that I woke up. The plane was by then, I guess, flying at an altitude of well over 31,000 feet; an utterly still cruise through the air, hardly any turbulence. All my co-passengers had finished their breakfast, and flight attendants were clearing the plates. Coming out a deep sleep, it took me a while to get a look at my neighbor. At first glance, I could see that she was a white blonde lady, wearing a loose blue T-shirt and a hugging jeans. she had well chiseled face and large blue eyes. Her curly hair dappled her shoulders with a bouncy crispness, and she was holding off a few strands from her face to concentrate on her reading. She looked in good shape even in those casual clothes. A reading glass was perched rather studiously on her nose; she was holding Kafka's "Metamorphosis" in her left hand in a leisurely poise of a seasoned reader. It was a thin book, looked like a second hand edition. The pages had yellowed with age, but people who read Kafka wouldn’t really mind that. It was at that moment that there was a faint stirring of my memory cells; a kind of vague recognition of this woman's face flitted across my minds eyes. I couldn't place her. The facial profile looked very familiar, yet, where it was and under what circumstances seemed to be eluding me. She turned around and said "Good morning" and after reciprocating the greeting, I let the matter drop and focused my attention on Nietzsche vision of Zarathustra. It was Walter Kaufman's masterly biography of the maniacal philosopher.
And half hour when my attention was broken by my neighbors voice. She said”
"It is interesting that you are reading about a Mad German philosopher and I am dipping into a Mad German author… "
"I smiled and replied "yes"... She continued
"But you know, these visionary Germans of the 18th century really had a grip on problems of existence. That Breed of artists: Beethoven Wagner, Goethe, Kafka. Nietzsche - what an explosion of intellect and talent. Perhaps unsurpassed in the last two centuries…"
I closed my book ,and thus started a conversation that lasted for nearly forty five minutes. We discussed existentialism - the works of Sartre and Kafka in particular, then drifted on to Richard Wagner - his grand opera Tristan and Isolde; then the novels of Henry James - we were immersed in an intellectual web of thoughts and opinions. Both of us shared our interest in Robert Harrison's popular podcast titled "Entitled opinions", which he broadcasts from Stanford University campus every spring. Time flew by…
Before long, the captain announced the descent into the city. It was then that we broke our thread of intense conversation; and it dawned upon me that I had not still been able to place her in my memory. Now that we had become acquainted, I boldly asked her:
"Your face looks very familiar to me; I don't know, but I am not able to exactly place it...
She slowly took off her reading glasses and laughed silently, and with a hint of mischief asked me..."
"Do you watch movies?”
"Yes, of course. I am a movie buff" - I answered…
She laughed again, and said “Do you get to watch a Genre called "Adult entertainment"...
Now, my attention was gripping itself around something concrete. The vague floating memories began to coalesce together… I heard her voice drifting through:
"My name is ............." (Not appropriate to give out the name).
A wave of recognition now flooded through me. The name, the shape, the act - all came together in one single instant. She was one of the leading stars in the Adult business for the best part of eighties and nineties. I will not be a hypocrite and declare that I have not seen her movies, or ogled over her pics on leading Adult magazines during my school and college days. It was an age when it had its own fascination on a growing adolescent.
But now, decades later, when all that excitement is merely a collage of vague memories; and the fact that , decades after, both of us sitting in an airplane can have a discussion on intellectual abstractions is a sign that we have grown beyond those needs. She had stopped acting sometime in mid nineties, and in that murky world of shadows where physicality matters, one is forgotten all too easily. It is obvious that she has reinvented herself, found newer centers of delight; and she wouldn’t want to tarry too long in her past… she now works for an NGO.
All that I could do was say to her “Oh my God, It was a great pleasure watching your movies as a college kid, and now it was even more pleasurable talking to you as a mature adult. Believe me, in many ways, you were part of my early education….”
The flight had touched down. It was time to leave. She put her reading glasses back inside her purse and took out her sunglasses. She turned around and looked at me and said: “Thanks for your lovely insights into Kafka. I will remember you….”….. I replied:” The pleasure was mine, I can never forget you anyways…”..
God bless…

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