Air India Chaos and Comedy – A Hilarious Tale about Flying Home

Patience, some wise man (who evidently never came across Indians) has said, is a virtue. My son had recently travelled from London to Delhi (and onwards to Hyderabad) and his narration about the journey rang a bell. (Mainly because I had written about this peculiarity of us Indians earlier and the inquisitive can read about it here). It was all about typical Air India chaos and comedy. But, let me just reproduce his experiences in toto.

He said, “I decided to, perhaps for the nostalgia’s sake, or familiarity, or just like that, travel by Air India. The Heathrow airport is one of the busiest in the world, with about 80 million passengers passing through annually. Quite obviously, one would expect to find the airport overflowing with travellers and I, order loving creature that I am, was dreading the chaos. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see that all check-in counters were virtually empty. The Singapore Airline counter had a dozen or so people, Air China perhaps two dozen, Lufthansa maybe 20 odd and Finnair had one family of three.

Thus buoyed, I was expecting a quick shoo-in and was already cursing myself for taking the ‘reach three hours prior’ advisory too seriously. And then I saw the Air India counters! For a moment I thought that all the 500,000 (approx) Indians who live in London had decided to fly out on that very day. I’m exaggerating of course, but my guesstimate told me that there were at least 700 people (all Indians) at the counters.

And when there are 700 Indians anywhere, one would expect some mild jostling, right? Of course. Except that while Indians may merely scoff at intangible virtues like patience, we positively detest anything ‘mild’. Full-fledged disorder being what we thrive in, we go charging in wild eyed and at full tilt; nostrils flaring, ears pulled back. So much for Heathrow’s claim of being a ‘silent’ airport.   

Be that as it may, resigning myself to fate I joined, what I thought was the shortest queue. Naturally, us Indians being firm believers in the therapeutic effects of the ‘touch’, the guy behind me kept his paunch firmly lodged into my lower back, urging me to close the six-inch gap with the guy ahead of me with friendly squishy nudges. I tried to give him ‘one of those’ looks, but that deterred him as much as Mr Sanjay Jha does Mr Arnab Goswami. Conversation all around me was centred around the inefficiency of Air India, worried calls to near and dear ones (The – ‘I told you to reach early!’ And, ‘How much earlier? I was here three hours ago’ – kinds). Some wholly useless suggestions to the beleaguered Air India staff were also being thrown around.

Anticipating a long wait, some of the more enterprising, naturally (and being genetically so inclined), sought ‘shortcuts’.  A middle-aged aunty, anxiety writ large on her face pleaded with fellow travellers to allow her to pass ahead by stating that she was about to miss her flight. Such was her sincerity and such her look of desperation that many passengers allowed her to skip ahead. She had managed to thus leap frog about 25-30 places when one of the more experienced travellers, who had a well-developed aversion towards trusting fellow Indians, asked her what time her flight was. When she replied that it was at 2030 hrs, all hell broke loose amongst those she had bypassed, as they all had flights departing from 1930 hrs onwards. Sensing whispered swear words flowing in from all cardinal directions of the compass, the poor lady not only had to forgo the 25-30 places she had gained, but such was the righteous consternation amongst her aggrieved co passengers that she found herself at the end of the line, perhaps 50 places behind, from where she had originally started. 

The hassled airline staff, sensing the unease in the air, did try and assuage us by repeatedly announcing that no passenger would be left behind. Ever tried eating soup with a fork? Well, these announcements were about as effective in calming the passengers.

And then the staff, perhaps because the time for departure of the Mumbai flight was nigh, made this grievous error – that of announcing, ‘Mumbai bound passengers may please step forward.’ This caused a mini stampede with many doing so. That Indians have a propensity to travel with half their household added not a little to the chaos. Some Bengaluru/Delhi bound passengers, keenly aware that confusion always generates fleeting opportunities for those who can boldly seize the moment, broke the queue too, as did the paunch caressing my posterior.  Little did the paunch know however, that the airline staff (though not Indians), were well acquainted with typical Indian ‘smart acts’. The staff demanded to see his boarding pass/ticket and seeing that he was Delhi bound, asked him in polite exasperation to rejoin the queue.  By this time however, the paunch next in line behind me, had already started canoodling my posterior (and so on in succession) and the smarty pants saw himself, just like the middle-aged aunty, at the end of the queue. Boy, did he look cross! And boy, did the onlookers look pleased!

And then, there were the wheelchairs. Ever noticed how any India bound flight will have an inordinate number of wheelchairs heading for the boarding gate? These passengers, mainly parents of children working abroad, are a different class of people. Most are able bodied and can easily walk the distances involved. However, their children find it expedient to book wheelchairs for their parents; for the ease it provides in bypassing queues and navigating airport procedures.

Well, once I had finished my check-in and security, I found about 55 odd wheelchairs lined up at the boarding gate, with some harried looking staff still scouring the airport for more of them. Seemingly, this one flight had used up all wheel chairs at Heathrow! Now, call it a strange coincidence, but the occupants of all wheelchairs, if they are Indians, look identical – glum looking parents, moms with that, what can only be called, ludicrous, monkey cap pulled snugly over the head till the waist; holding onto their worldly possessions in a ‘potli’/bag for dear life. They all uniformly, look about as happy as vegetarians invited to a frog tasting fest. Never will one see a single smile or a cheerful face. If ever one needs a symphony of dread, sorrow and loneliness, surpassing that of even the ever-suffering Nirupa Roy in pathos, one needs look no further than this Indian wheelchair queue.   

Finally however, we were all boarded, the 55 Nirupa Roys included. The typical bedlam that one associates with us Indians on a flight was nothing out of the ordinary. Similarly, coming across a few plastered, sozzled and dreamily ‘tun’ passengers was par for the course. Nor was the eagerness to disembark once the plane landed at Delhi, with the window seat guys standing comically with their neck craned under the cabin baggage lockers, noteworthy. If at all, it made me feel more at home.

Then followed the ‘transfer’ routine at Delhi where there were not more than 50 passengers. The connecting flight to Chennai had only about 30 minutes to take off and hence the airline staff were at the transfer counter to escort/hurry the Chennai bound passengers through. However, one uncle and aunty, perhaps more prone to anxiety than others, rushed forward towards the staff and tried to jump the queue. On the polite request by the staff to join the queue, uncle remonstrated, his face reflecting the confusion of a chihuahua trying to converse in Tamil. The staff countered, “Yes Sir, you do have a connecting flight. But four hours later.” Uncle, clearly miffed at the lack of solicitousness displayed by the staff rejoined the line, his demeanour that of a marathoner who, after three hours of huffing and puffing found himself, inexplicably back at the starting line. Chagrined.

On my part, despite the general chaos, or maybe because of it, I was quite happy with the overall experience. The air hostesses were efficient and the baggage handling expeditious. And while we Indians can never be as zen as that tortoise competing in a dash with the hare, travelling by Air India, being a mix of chaos and comedy, gives us a feeling of being at home. And that is where the heart is, right?”