‘Dehradun, here I come’ – I said to myself as our flight and hotel arrangements were in place. Of course I was going to fly to Chandigarh first and then leave for Dehradun after local sightseeing.
Here I must confess that flying is not my most favorite means of transport. But given the fact that I stay in Mumbai, a car journey was totally out of the question. And I have long since given up any hope of traveling by long distance trains – given that there is always a waiting list, no matter where you want to go.
So I wasn’t very happy as we left for the domestic airport in Mumbai. We reached the airport well ahead of the time. There was a sizable crowd occupying the waiting area. The sea of humanity had all types – families with kids, friends traveling together, a lone traveler staring at the mobile screen, people traveling on work assignment pounding at their laptops. That day the flight arriving from Chandigarh (and which was going to take us back there) was delayed by a good half hour. I had a book with me as usual but chose to while away my time instead. It was entertaining to watch as a bunch of ladies in a family set about choosing footwear in an outlet of Pavers England. I felt for the hapless shop attendant as they tried one pair after another and sent him scurrying for more. The luxury pen outlet nearby wasn’t having much of a footfall – except for one guy who made the attendant show him various pieces and departed without buying any.
As the boarding announcement was made for our flight, I saw the ladies in the Pavers outlet paying for their purchase. The shop attendant’s time wasn’t wasted afterall.
Boarding a flight is an experience best had in India. The whole crowd operates as if fearing that the plane will take off without getting them on board. The line that they form in front of the boarding window can be called ‘A Queue’ only if you stretch the definition of the word from earth to moon and back – twice over. Then they will rush to the shuttle that will carry them to the waiting aircraft. The waiting crowd at the aircraft door can be compared only to the rush at the Hillary Step on Chomolungma. Then there is the slow march to your seat – periodically slowed down by people trying to cram their over-sized bags into the small overhead storage areas – totally unmindful of those waiting behind them. It is only when you clear that hurdle that you can sit back and gawk unabashedly at the people arriving after you.
If you are lucky the pilot will take time out of his busy schedule to let you know where the plane stands in the take-off order. Our pilot that day clearly was too busy to do that. So I sat there looking at the rest of the airport going about its business. After what seemed like an eternity the plane began taxiing and then it went on taxiing – so much so that at one point I was convinced that the pilot intends to march us all the way to Chandigarh. Finally, it gathered speed and then took off.
The rest of the journey was as uneventful as plane journeys can get. People got up and left for the loo making me wonder why they didn’t do so while they were waiting. I would agree to visit it only if paid a million Euros to do so. Agreed, it doesn’t stick the way the loos normally do in India but the space can at best be called tiny. And the sooner I step into one I get scared that the pilot will switch on the seat-belt sign and I will be airborne because the aircraft hit air turbulence. But clearly there are people who feel as safe in the plane loo as they do in the loo at home. J A baby somewhere at the back of the plane started crying as if his/her life depended on it. The stewards brought food trollies. We were served a chicken gravy that was totally without any character - a mixture of chunky onion rings, half-cooked capsicum pieces, tons of tomatoes and enough blink-and-you-miss-it chicken pieces thrown in as an afterthought to justify that it was a chicken dish. The accompaniment was 2 bread rolls and a dish containing fruit pieces that looked as if they had got dried out when the meteors that killed the dinosaurs hit the earth. The only edible item in the whole ‘in-flight lunch’ was the imli that served as a digestive aid. :-(
Another eternity later the pilot must have felt the need to inform the passengers that the descent for Chandigarh has begun. I heaved a sigh of relief. No sooner did the wheels touch the tarmac everyone got restless. People didn’t even wait for the plane to come to a complete stop before unbuckling themselves. The storage areas were popped open. We got our luggage out and remained seated. No point in joining the melee as people waited in the aisle to disembark.
We were among the last people to exit. I looked up and saw the name of the airport written in Gurumukhi script. Chandigarh at last!
I had heard that Chandigarh is the first (is it also the last?) planned city of India. I saw the proof with my own eyes as our hotel car moved along wide roads that were totally free of potholes. The traffic was orderly and the use of horns was an exception rather than the rule. We were at the hotel within no time at all.
As it was close to sundown no sightseeing was possible that day. So we decided to have an early dinner and call it a day.
Here I must confess that flying is not my most favorite means of transport. But given the fact that I stay in Mumbai, a car journey was totally out of the question. And I have long since given up any hope of traveling by long distance trains – given that there is always a waiting list, no matter where you want to go.
So I wasn’t very happy as we left for the domestic airport in Mumbai. We reached the airport well ahead of the time. There was a sizable crowd occupying the waiting area. The sea of humanity had all types – families with kids, friends traveling together, a lone traveler staring at the mobile screen, people traveling on work assignment pounding at their laptops. That day the flight arriving from Chandigarh (and which was going to take us back there) was delayed by a good half hour. I had a book with me as usual but chose to while away my time instead. It was entertaining to watch as a bunch of ladies in a family set about choosing footwear in an outlet of Pavers England. I felt for the hapless shop attendant as they tried one pair after another and sent him scurrying for more. The luxury pen outlet nearby wasn’t having much of a footfall – except for one guy who made the attendant show him various pieces and departed without buying any.
As the boarding announcement was made for our flight, I saw the ladies in the Pavers outlet paying for their purchase. The shop attendant’s time wasn’t wasted afterall.
Boarding a flight is an experience best had in India. The whole crowd operates as if fearing that the plane will take off without getting them on board. The line that they form in front of the boarding window can be called ‘A Queue’ only if you stretch the definition of the word from earth to moon and back – twice over. Then they will rush to the shuttle that will carry them to the waiting aircraft. The waiting crowd at the aircraft door can be compared only to the rush at the Hillary Step on Chomolungma. Then there is the slow march to your seat – periodically slowed down by people trying to cram their over-sized bags into the small overhead storage areas – totally unmindful of those waiting behind them. It is only when you clear that hurdle that you can sit back and gawk unabashedly at the people arriving after you.
If you are lucky the pilot will take time out of his busy schedule to let you know where the plane stands in the take-off order. Our pilot that day clearly was too busy to do that. So I sat there looking at the rest of the airport going about its business. After what seemed like an eternity the plane began taxiing and then it went on taxiing – so much so that at one point I was convinced that the pilot intends to march us all the way to Chandigarh. Finally, it gathered speed and then took off.
The rest of the journey was as uneventful as plane journeys can get. People got up and left for the loo making me wonder why they didn’t do so while they were waiting. I would agree to visit it only if paid a million Euros to do so. Agreed, it doesn’t stick the way the loos normally do in India but the space can at best be called tiny. And the sooner I step into one I get scared that the pilot will switch on the seat-belt sign and I will be airborne because the aircraft hit air turbulence. But clearly there are people who feel as safe in the plane loo as they do in the loo at home. J A baby somewhere at the back of the plane started crying as if his/her life depended on it. The stewards brought food trollies. We were served a chicken gravy that was totally without any character - a mixture of chunky onion rings, half-cooked capsicum pieces, tons of tomatoes and enough blink-and-you-miss-it chicken pieces thrown in as an afterthought to justify that it was a chicken dish. The accompaniment was 2 bread rolls and a dish containing fruit pieces that looked as if they had got dried out when the meteors that killed the dinosaurs hit the earth. The only edible item in the whole ‘in-flight lunch’ was the imli that served as a digestive aid. :-(
Another eternity later the pilot must have felt the need to inform the passengers that the descent for Chandigarh has begun. I heaved a sigh of relief. No sooner did the wheels touch the tarmac everyone got restless. People didn’t even wait for the plane to come to a complete stop before unbuckling themselves. The storage areas were popped open. We got our luggage out and remained seated. No point in joining the melee as people waited in the aisle to disembark.
We were among the last people to exit. I looked up and saw the name of the airport written in Gurumukhi script. Chandigarh at last!
I had heard that Chandigarh is the first (is it also the last?) planned city of India. I saw the proof with my own eyes as our hotel car moved along wide roads that were totally free of potholes. The traffic was orderly and the use of horns was an exception rather than the rule. We were at the hotel within no time at all.
As it was close to sundown no sightseeing was possible that day. So we decided to have an early dinner and call it a day.
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