Armed Conflict

Luck has it that this particular airline doesn't provide the option for online check-in at Dhaka Airport. I am thus relegated to the dreaded middle seat. Simple math – 3 passengers, 3 seats, but why 2 pairs of arm rests? I'm talking about us farm animals in economy class.

The window and aisle seat passengers are at least guaranteed one arm rest. But what about me, in the middle? I am Palestine. My right arm and the left arm of the passenger on my right stake claim to the same arm rest called the Gaza Strip. My left arm and the right arm of the passenger on my left wage a silent war for the left armrest called the West Bank.

The West Bank occupier then lifts his right hand to cover his nose as he sneezes. He uses his shirt sleeve to wipe off the nose. Doofus, you could have used your left hand. Ha, ha! I seize the opportunity and my left arm finds a firm landing space. Ahh!.

Having realised the loss of precious territory, the bull dozers swarm in. He places his arm (probably with some snot on his shirt sleeve from the recent sneeze) right next to the recently victorious left arm of mine. Thus starts the war of attrition as he slowly starts to push in infinitesimal increments, the same way we encroach the neighbour's unwalled property. For the next hour, it is an odd tug of war with two arms of two strangers almost intertwined like those of two lovers while desperately trying to (re)gain territory.

Meanwhile, luck has it that the passenger on my right falls asleep and starts snoring, One gentle push with my right arm and his left arm lands on his lap. The jerk makes his snoring stop abruptly as he gasps for air like a drowning man. He is then immediately back in his slumber. I regain the Gaza Strip.

Basking in victorious glory, I settle down to take a nap. And it's just my luck that this is right when I am beckoned with the call of nature. On top of that, my nose is now itching like crazy, but with both arms now in firm possession (well, the left is still engaged in firing of rockets and the subsequent retaliation with Apaches and F-16s), I refuse to disengage my arms from their solid footings. I twitch my nose and finally lean forward to rub it (my nose) against the back of the seat in front of me as though I'm a little puppy. Heaven knows what the guy on my left is thinking. But who cares, my arms are finally resting. I pretend to fall asleep…

This is the cruel joke of aviation pioneers to enact the eternal human conflict in the high skies. We free ourselves of gravity, but we leave that little room for conflict. I guess that is why every conflict involves 'arms'. And that is what the British did when leaving the Jewel in the Crown. Ok, Muslims on the right seat and the left seat and the Hindu majority in the middle. 'Simple' solution. Wait, too simple. Let's create another armrest – Kashmir. Let the two adjacent passengers fight it out. And the Malvinas, and now the South China Seas…

The writer is an engineer at Ford & Qualcomm USA and CEO of IBM & Nokia Siemens Networks Bangladesh turned comedian (by choice), the host of ABC Radio's Good Morning Bangladesh and the founder of Naveed's Comedy Club.

E-mail: naveed@naveedmahbub.com