"If God had intended that man should fly, he would have given him wings". nobody knows who exactly said these words although they are accredited widely to George Melville. And he wasn't your tobacco chewing, scripture quoting, Amish zealot. He was an engineer in the US Navy and that's about as capitalistic and modern as you can get. I seriously agree with the above statement although I have lost count as to the number of flights that I have done in my short lifespan(read as : ME STILL YOUTH)
My first flight was the flight I took to London as part of my study tour to LSE for a series of lectures. It still remains fresh in my mind, like how a cow would remember being branded with a hot iron. The thing about a first flight is not only the actual flight duration but the days spent in advance to the actual travel day. It first starts with shopping and boy, this is the best period of the entire trip. Your are given an almost bottomless purchase power and you can go ahead and get all those ridiculously idiotic things that you would never have got the guts nor the money to buy. Monogrammed underwear? Go for it. Fleece lined leather jacket? hell yeah. My shopping during this time actually crossed the recommended money that they told me to bring along for the journey itself. After this bout of shopping and endless weeping from my dad, entered the phase of packing. These days are full of packing, removing certain items, repacking and re-removing once again before you lose all semblance of what you started out with. Then the next door maama comes along with his insufferable advice owing to the fact that he traveled out of the country about a decade back to an altogether different place. Your mom would shout from the kitchen to listen to him with a "periyava solralono...kettukoda...".
So somehow after all this juggling is done, and frequent visits to Saravana bhavan ( we had to weigh the luggage and the closest and easiest way was to get it to a Saravana bhavan hotel which had a weighing machine) and a lot of 1 rupee coins spent, my packing came to an end. I was ready to fly.
Parents are the most quintessentially funny people in the world. Just when you are proud that they are the coolest people around and you parade them around to your friends, they come up with an undercut out of nowhere that makes them look like they just crossed their moats in their medieval castles. My mom made quite a spectacle on the day I left for the airport. She made me pray, prostrate and finally applied all sorts of marks on my forehead with all kunkums from all distant temples. And she is a M.Phil for god's sakes. With all my religious requirements done with, having been rechecked whether i am carrying my passport and ticket for about 73 times, I finally got into the waiting cab and left for the airport.
A great decision I had taken was not to be accompanied by my family to the Airport as I was sure that it would make my friends feel a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable. What a sight it was at the airport when almost 80 % of all my classmates had their parents in tow and all the scenes that had unfurled for me in the private confines of my house was being enacted and re-enacted by all those worried parents at the airport terminal. Finally we all made our way into the terminal and crossed the security counters beyond which the parents weren't allowed( thank god for small mercies ). Security check in was smooth and my guess was that the authorities were fed up with the seemingly endless crowd of youngsters going on some sort of package tour and wanted them out of their sight at the earliest.
The first of many mishaps happened just then, when my camera bag went missing and I had absolutely no idea where it had gone. Till date I dont exactly recall what happened that day and how it had managed to end up in some other flight counter. A lot of hurried running around and frantic telephonic conversations later, it was somehow arranged for it to catch the next flight out to mumbai from where I had my connecting flight. We finally boarded the flight for Mumbai from where we had our flight onward to Heathrow.
The first thing that we did when we entered and settled into our seats was to buzz the air-hostess and ask for the "promised" two rounds of alcohol. We were firmly reminded that it was a domestic flight and that no alcohol would be served. The next couple of questions that came out was about smoking zone, in-flight entertainment which were more or less dismissed. The air-hostesses had their hands full trying to meet the demands of 70 youngsters all going trigger-happy on the assist button on the console above their heads. Till today, I am very sure that there is a conspiracy on what happened next. We hit an air-pocket and got shit-scared for a while. I am sure that I saw a air-hostess get on the intercom with the captain and ask him for "assistance". So an air-pocket, genuine or "constructed" later, it found 70 kids with their knuckles all white gripping the seat handles tight. Now the situation was more manageable for the crew and they did a splendid job in reassuring everybody that it was safe now. Some of the more naughty passengers were given a refresher course on how to act during an emergency landing making them grip their handles even tighter.
We cruised for some more time before the captain's voice squeaked over the PA system announcing our descent into the landing at Mumbai. All of us rushed to the windows to catch a look at what we thought would be beautiful and spectacular. It was. The first thing we saw was an unending stretch of continuous....slums. Till today I am not sure if it was Dharawi slums or the slums near Santa Cruz that I saw but it was an amazing sight. Not that slums are good. But the sight of the same from the air, seeing all those tin shacks lined up it looked as though someone had been given a different set of Lego building blocks and they had gone rampant only. As our plane dipped, the amazement of the slums changed to fear as it looked as though we were going too low and would definitely remodel a few roofs of the slums. It was time once again to show our fondness for the seat handles. All of us remained clutching our seats and trying to recall all the instructions the air-hostesses gave at the beginning of the flight.
An intense ball of tension built up in the bottom of my stomach and was slowly making me uneasy. Restricted by the seat-belt and without no access to the restrooms, it was all that I could do to keep myself dry. Even takeoff wasn't this scary as it was just an incredible rush of speed that gets you and a couple of times of ear popping that you need to live with. Landing was and still is the most traumatic part of a flight travel for me although now I have got used to it. The first time at Mumbai was something I could never forget and I am sure nobody on this planet would say that their first landing was easy. Till date, I havent been able to find out who, although I have a good clue, but suddenly somebody started saying some slokas in a silent whisper. All of us were there in spirit along with the courageous person who resorted to the oldest form of protection. The lights dimmed and just like in a movie there is a crescendo music build up to the climax, all of us had our danger music running inside our minds. BUMP. Then a screech.Then a bump once again and before we knew it we were speeding down the runway. A silent cheer went up among all of us and we were back to being the fearless youth rebels that we imagined ourselves to be. Back to the assist button on the console and the air-hostesses started running around catering to the insane demands of their guests. A quick line formed and we grabbed our cabin luggage and tore out of the airplane at record speed.
Thats when we realized that this was just a trailer. The main picture was still there. We had done a two hour flight from Chennai to Mumbai. The bigger part of our journey from Mumbai to London was scheduled another 3 hours away. That is quite another story and quite another blog post really.
So somehow after all this juggling is done, and frequent visits to Saravana bhavan ( we had to weigh the luggage and the closest and easiest way was to get it to a Saravana bhavan hotel which had a weighing machine) and a lot of 1 rupee coins spent, my packing came to an end. I was ready to fly.
Parents are the most quintessentially funny people in the world. Just when you are proud that they are the coolest people around and you parade them around to your friends, they come up with an undercut out of nowhere that makes them look like they just crossed their moats in their medieval castles. My mom made quite a spectacle on the day I left for the airport. She made me pray, prostrate and finally applied all sorts of marks on my forehead with all kunkums from all distant temples. And she is a M.Phil for god's sakes. With all my religious requirements done with, having been rechecked whether i am carrying my passport and ticket for about 73 times, I finally got into the waiting cab and left for the airport.
A great decision I had taken was not to be accompanied by my family to the Airport as I was sure that it would make my friends feel a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable. What a sight it was at the airport when almost 80 % of all my classmates had their parents in tow and all the scenes that had unfurled for me in the private confines of my house was being enacted and re-enacted by all those worried parents at the airport terminal. Finally we all made our way into the terminal and crossed the security counters beyond which the parents weren't allowed( thank god for small mercies ). Security check in was smooth and my guess was that the authorities were fed up with the seemingly endless crowd of youngsters going on some sort of package tour and wanted them out of their sight at the earliest.
The first of many mishaps happened just then, when my camera bag went missing and I had absolutely no idea where it had gone. Till date I dont exactly recall what happened that day and how it had managed to end up in some other flight counter. A lot of hurried running around and frantic telephonic conversations later, it was somehow arranged for it to catch the next flight out to mumbai from where I had my connecting flight. We finally boarded the flight for Mumbai from where we had our flight onward to Heathrow.
The first thing that we did when we entered and settled into our seats was to buzz the air-hostess and ask for the "promised" two rounds of alcohol. We were firmly reminded that it was a domestic flight and that no alcohol would be served. The next couple of questions that came out was about smoking zone, in-flight entertainment which were more or less dismissed. The air-hostesses had their hands full trying to meet the demands of 70 youngsters all going trigger-happy on the assist button on the console above their heads. Till today, I am very sure that there is a conspiracy on what happened next. We hit an air-pocket and got shit-scared for a while. I am sure that I saw a air-hostess get on the intercom with the captain and ask him for "assistance". So an air-pocket, genuine or "constructed" later, it found 70 kids with their knuckles all white gripping the seat handles tight. Now the situation was more manageable for the crew and they did a splendid job in reassuring everybody that it was safe now. Some of the more naughty passengers were given a refresher course on how to act during an emergency landing making them grip their handles even tighter.
 |
| Look at the scared eyes...pleading to be let off...praying to stay dry..with no alcohol to boot |
We cruised for some more time before the captain's voice squeaked over the PA system announcing our descent into the landing at Mumbai. All of us rushed to the windows to catch a look at what we thought would be beautiful and spectacular. It was. The first thing we saw was an unending stretch of continuous....slums. Till today I am not sure if it was Dharawi slums or the slums near Santa Cruz that I saw but it was an amazing sight. Not that slums are good. But the sight of the same from the air, seeing all those tin shacks lined up it looked as though someone had been given a different set of Lego building blocks and they had gone rampant only. As our plane dipped, the amazement of the slums changed to fear as it looked as though we were going too low and would definitely remodel a few roofs of the slums. It was time once again to show our fondness for the seat handles. All of us remained clutching our seats and trying to recall all the instructions the air-hostesses gave at the beginning of the flight.
An intense ball of tension built up in the bottom of my stomach and was slowly making me uneasy. Restricted by the seat-belt and without no access to the restrooms, it was all that I could do to keep myself dry. Even takeoff wasn't this scary as it was just an incredible rush of speed that gets you and a couple of times of ear popping that you need to live with. Landing was and still is the most traumatic part of a flight travel for me although now I have got used to it. The first time at Mumbai was something I could never forget and I am sure nobody on this planet would say that their first landing was easy. Till date, I havent been able to find out who, although I have a good clue, but suddenly somebody started saying some slokas in a silent whisper. All of us were there in spirit along with the courageous person who resorted to the oldest form of protection. The lights dimmed and just like in a movie there is a crescendo music build up to the climax, all of us had our danger music running inside our minds. BUMP. Then a screech.Then a bump once again and before we knew it we were speeding down the runway. A silent cheer went up among all of us and we were back to being the fearless youth rebels that we imagined ourselves to be. Back to the assist button on the console and the air-hostesses started running around catering to the insane demands of their guests. A quick line formed and we grabbed our cabin luggage and tore out of the airplane at record speed.
Thats when we realized that this was just a trailer. The main picture was still there. We had done a two hour flight from Chennai to Mumbai. The bigger part of our journey from Mumbai to London was scheduled another 3 hours away. That is quite another story and quite another blog post really.
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