The Journey - I - Flight Plight

Boarding the IC 884 at about 12 o’clock, I began to wonder what the last day of the year might hold in store for me. We all know that each day unfolds exclusive of each other, yet we humans tend to attach special importance to some days, an importance which could be at times even frivolous (April Fool’s Day). Finding that I had nothing better to do, I allowed myself to be consumed by this folly and amused myself by what could lie ahead.

Climbing up towards the plane entry, I prayed to the heavens for bestowing upon me the company of a lissome lass near my seat and a couple of beautiful young air hostesses. As I reached the door, I looked up and my jaw dropped. Standing there was a 50-looking lady with a huge paunch and a badly sculpted face, blurting out “welcome”. (My thoughts for a moment whizzed to IT-BHU). No way can they allow such ladies to be air hostesses, I thought. It’s an insult to the passengers’ sense of aesthetics and an ugly slap on their wallets. Jolted and feeling abused, I limped on towards my seat in the economy class section. Once here, my spirits soared back. Two young good-looking women were looking up, one genuinely pretty and the other, who otherwise might actually have been repulsive, made to look decent through the genius of make-up. I helped myself to a chuckle when it dawned on me that the old lady was meant to be serving the business class while the decent girls would do the duties for the economy class. More money means better service, who said? I saw the pretty hostess helping out some of the people in front of me to find their seats, but I realized I had missed an opportunity when no such help came my way; I guess I looked literate enough. Normally, I land up with a window seat, but this time I had no such luck. I took my seat adjacent to a fellow passenger who was peering intently through the window, as if the plane was already air-borne.

Ensconced comfortably in my seat now, I began to rummage the seat pocket in front for something interesting to read, when a man came up to me and asked me where he could find his seat in such a manner that encouraged me to think of him as anything but a literate person and a pleasant company. Dearly wishing that the empty seat adjacent to me would not be the one, I looked at his boarding pass and my admonition came true. He settled down after much huff and puff. I reprimanded myself for thinking low of a person just by his look and demeanor; the first impression is not always the last impression, I told myself. I tightened my seat belt, and saw the new man succeed after a tough time with the buckle and the strap. The plane started moving backwards, and seeing this, the man spoke with a mix of curiosity and horror, “ee plane to ulta jaa raha hai”. Innocence, I told myself optimistically; it could happen with any first-timer. The plane today seemed to be full of the labour class people that toil day in and day out for the UAE’s infrastructure industry in grueling conditions. The man was soon enjoying a loud conversation with some more of his ilk in a local Indian dialect. I soon understood that they were passing some lewd remarks on the air hostesses. I started feeling irritated by now, by his constant shifting in his seat and his tendency to turn his head right in the direction of my ear drums during the middle of his conversation.

Barely 10 minutes after the flight had taken off, the man started clamouring about why he wasn’t being served any wine at all and was this the kind of service that he had paid for. Soon enough, whisky, beer and the likes were served in the plane, and my friend helped himself to a beer. I put myself in a position ready to sway just in case he spilled open the can. My head had started throbbing painfully by now, through a combination of tiredness and the surrounding din. A second helping of alcohol arrived, and this time the man put up a case for whiskey. The hostess refused, saying that whisky after beer would lead to a reaction. The man argued his case with the lady, claiming to down 2-3 bottles of whisky everyday. “Do teen to hum roz ludka jaata hun, ek peg se kuch nahi hoga hamara”. The hostess denied him in a matter-of-fact voice, asking him to have beer or have nothing. So, my friend decided to make do with beer. I was thankful that that was the case, for the last thing I wanted was someone spewing their contents all over me. My fellow passenger at the window seat had already exchanged a few remarks with me about how such people are a nuisance and should be banished; but probably the only thing bothering him was that his sleep was being hampered. Imagine my discomfort.

Dinner was served soon afterwards. I removed the aluminium foils and saw the ill-mannered man watching me closely to get hints at opening his packet. During the course of the meal, my attention was disturbed by his cup of water that was placed precariously near the edge of his food tray, and which with intermittent plane vibrations, threatened to come down splashing onto my legs. I asked him to put it into a less perilous position. He did so, but not without replying, “arre nahi girega bhaiya”. Newton wouldn’t have been impressed to hear that, nor was I. The cup moved dangerously again, and this time I reacted with more menace, but saw that he had already fallen into a gentle slumber. The alcohol had knocked him unconscious. That’s better than everything else, I thought. My small joy, though, was short-lived, as his head kept falling sideways onto my shoulders and I had to constantly push him away. Once, I jerked him away so hard that he woke up with a jolt and I told him threateningly to take care of himself, but he just relapsed into his state of unconsciousness. By now, those images of a wonderful flight that I was harbouring earlier seemed to exist in a different world. I had made up my mind not to travel economy class next time.

The cabin rang with a voice asking us to fasten our seat-belts for landing. I did so, and so did the passengers around me except ‘him’. He was still sleeping. All attempts to wake him up went In vain. We passengers shouted into his ears; the air hostesses tried by banging the food tray against his knees; I had half a mind to box his ears out. Ultimately, we took hold of the straps and tightened the tight man. No one wanted a drunk man toppling off his seat when the plane was landing. The plane came to a grinding halt and I felt I was being released after serving a jail sentence. He was still asleep and no one was bothered anymore, except the airport authorities who gave him a tough time later on for his indecencies. The last day of 2007 had started off badly, and I hoped it would at least end well. With this, I stepped onto the earth of Lucknow, not realizing that the journey was only half over.