Respected Madam/Sir,
Good morning. Or good Ides of March? Because today is March 15, 2026, and newspaper is still full of kali yuga special edition – elections in Kazakhstan, North Korea, Congo (all sounding like my family WhatsApp group deciding dinner), Doomsday Clock at 85 seconds to midnight (closer than my nose to petrol pump), US-Iran war Day whatever (now oil prices higher than Hong Kong perfume), Plus, India-Pakistan tension again, Pahalgam attack last year almost became full war. Madam/Sir, if newspaper is horror movie, then 2026 is sequel nobody asked for – more explosions, more politics, less happy ending.
You are right, difference between news and Towering Inferno? In movie, at least Steve McQueen comes and saves everybody with moustache power. Here, no hero, only anchors shouting “Breaking: Rain washes out another life!” Wait, no – rain is washing out cricket, not life. But same feeling.
After reading all this disaster disaster, I also told Kamalam same thing: “Woman, we are old, maximum 20 years left. Imagine 50 years – flying cars crashing into each other, AI wife divorcing husband for better algorithm, Balaraman’s great-grandson buying planet on EMI.” She laughed and said, “Old man, 20 years? You will leave first, I will remarry on Shaadi.com Senior Citizen Gold Plan. Profile: ‘Retired lady, expert in spotting hidden petrol bottles, no tolerance for end-piece bread.’” I said, “Fine, but mention in bio: ‘Husband was super funny, certified by fan.’” She rolled eyes like ceiling fan on high speed.
But Madam/Sir, aerodrome arrivals is the best antidote to all this news poison. You described perfectly – full reunion tamasha! Old lady becoming Prabhu Deva for granddaughter – I can imagine, she was walking like 1 frame per minute, then suddenly 100 kmph sprint. Sentiments overload! And sardarji boy running to wrong daddies 7-8 times? Comedy blockbuster! Imagine if he ran to me saying “Daddy!” I would say, “Beta, wrong Mathrubootham. Your real daddy is probably hiding from EMI collectors.”
I also went to airport recently – not for Usman, but for my cousin’s son returning from Dubai (he brought dates, not petrol, sadly). Same scene: Families hugging like they invented hugging. One Telugu family – father lifting daughter like trophy, mother crying happy tears, brother taking selfie with luggage trolley. Nearby, foreign tourist arguing with taxi driver: “500 rupees for 10 km? In my country, that’s one coffee!” Driver said, “Sir, here coffee is 20 rupees, but hug is free.”
Too much happiness, Madam/Sir.
You said aerodrome is best place in Chennai. Agree 100%. Better than Marina Beach (too much sand in slippers), better than Express Avenue mall (too much window shopping guilt). Here, no politics, no fraud, no terror – only “Welcome home!” shouts, garlands falling on heads, children running like Virat Kohli chasing boundaries. Even security fellows smiling little (rare sight, like seeing Balaraman without new Amazon package).
But careful: If you go every week like you said, they will think you are scouting for something. These days, airport has more cameras than my house has ceiling fans. One uncle was standing daily, they asked “Sir, waiting for flight?” He said “No, waiting for happiness.” They let him, but now he is famous as “Aerodrome Happiness Uncle.”
Usman brought food from US – probably burgers smelling like regret. But you are right, better than news. I told Kamalam: “Let world burn or wash out in rain like T20 semis (if rain comes in Mumbai semi, India out without playing – like my diet plan).” She said, “Old man, stop complaining. Come to arrivals tomorrow, pick me up from vegetable market. I will come out with brinjal garland.” I said, “Done. I will run (away) like Prabhu Deva.”
So Madam/Sir, in this kali yuga full of disasters, let us collect small happiness packets from airport arrivals. No ticket needed, no EMI, just stand near gate and watch real life movie – happy ending guaranteed every 30 minutes.If next time newspaper too much, let us both go to arrivals. Bring paint can for emergency petrol smell if too much sentiment.Yours in airport intoxication (happiness + garland smell + no news),J. Mathrubootham
(Super Happiness Spotter, Certified by Chennai Aerodrome Reunions)
You are right, difference between news and Towering Inferno? In movie, at least Steve McQueen comes and saves everybody with moustache power. Here, no hero, only anchors shouting “Breaking: Rain washes out another life!” Wait, no – rain is washing out cricket, not life. But same feeling.
After reading all this disaster disaster, I also told Kamalam same thing: “Woman, we are old, maximum 20 years left. Imagine 50 years – flying cars crashing into each other, AI wife divorcing husband for better algorithm, Balaraman’s great-grandson buying planet on EMI.” She laughed and said, “Old man, 20 years? You will leave first, I will remarry on Shaadi.com Senior Citizen Gold Plan. Profile: ‘Retired lady, expert in spotting hidden petrol bottles, no tolerance for end-piece bread.’” I said, “Fine, but mention in bio: ‘Husband was super funny, certified by fan.’” She rolled eyes like ceiling fan on high speed.
But Madam/Sir, aerodrome arrivals is the best antidote to all this news poison. You described perfectly – full reunion tamasha! Old lady becoming Prabhu Deva for granddaughter – I can imagine, she was walking like 1 frame per minute, then suddenly 100 kmph sprint. Sentiments overload! And sardarji boy running to wrong daddies 7-8 times? Comedy blockbuster! Imagine if he ran to me saying “Daddy!” I would say, “Beta, wrong Mathrubootham. Your real daddy is probably hiding from EMI collectors.”
I also went to airport recently – not for Usman, but for my cousin’s son returning from Dubai (he brought dates, not petrol, sadly). Same scene: Families hugging like they invented hugging. One Telugu family – father lifting daughter like trophy, mother crying happy tears, brother taking selfie with luggage trolley. Nearby, foreign tourist arguing with taxi driver: “500 rupees for 10 km? In my country, that’s one coffee!” Driver said, “Sir, here coffee is 20 rupees, but hug is free.”
Too much happiness, Madam/Sir.
You said aerodrome is best place in Chennai. Agree 100%. Better than Marina Beach (too much sand in slippers), better than Express Avenue mall (too much window shopping guilt). Here, no politics, no fraud, no terror – only “Welcome home!” shouts, garlands falling on heads, children running like Virat Kohli chasing boundaries. Even security fellows smiling little (rare sight, like seeing Balaraman without new Amazon package).
But careful: If you go every week like you said, they will think you are scouting for something. These days, airport has more cameras than my house has ceiling fans. One uncle was standing daily, they asked “Sir, waiting for flight?” He said “No, waiting for happiness.” They let him, but now he is famous as “Aerodrome Happiness Uncle.”
Usman brought food from US – probably burgers smelling like regret. But you are right, better than news. I told Kamalam: “Let world burn or wash out in rain like T20 semis (if rain comes in Mumbai semi, India out without playing – like my diet plan).” She said, “Old man, stop complaining. Come to arrivals tomorrow, pick me up from vegetable market. I will come out with brinjal garland.” I said, “Done. I will run (away) like Prabhu Deva.”
So Madam/Sir, in this kali yuga full of disasters, let us collect small happiness packets from airport arrivals. No ticket needed, no EMI, just stand near gate and watch real life movie – happy ending guaranteed every 30 minutes.If next time newspaper too much, let us both go to arrivals. Bring paint can for emergency petrol smell if too much sentiment.Yours in airport intoxication (happiness + garland smell + no news),J. Mathrubootham
(Super Happiness Spotter, Certified by Chennai Aerodrome Reunions)