Flights, fairways, and final goodbyes

AS GOLFERS, WE'RE always flying. It's as much a part of our job as swinging a club.

- Rahil Gangjee

Early morning check-ins. Security lines that move at the pace of a snail on sedatives. Flight announcements that somehow never sound clear.

Airport lounges that become your second home. Boarding passes lost in golf bags. And the constant, constant prayer that your clubs made it to the same city you did. But last week, standing in yet another airport, watching the news scroll on a TV near Gate 3, everything paused.

The air crash in Ahmedabad last week which claimed 231 lives on board and 33 or more on the ground and the tragedy that followed hit me harder than I expected. It wasn't just the visuals. It was the familiarity. I've flown in and out of that terminal. I have waited there, bags at my feet, earphones in, probably watching swing videos or texting about tomorrow's tee time. I've seen families there. Hugs. Goodbyes. Rushed coffee before boarding.

Golf teaches us big losses and quiet wins, but nothing crashes into perspective faster than air. A tournament cut can hurt. A blown drive can be crushing. But both are temporary. A life extinguished mid-flight reminds you how fragile everything else really is.

Life in transit

Golf is a nomadic life. One week you are in Pune, next in Dubai, then back in Bangalore for a quick 48 hours before heading to Jakarta. Your suitcase is half-packed at all times. You forget what day it is-but you always remember what tee time you've been assigned.