“I hope we are not travelling by bus all the way,” I said laughing.
The person next to me shook his head. With reporting time two hours ahead of flight, morning breakfast had been a cup of coffee. The airline staff provided a quick check-in. I was very hungry. Not far from the assigned gate was a small fast food counter. I settled for something that would both keep me awake and temporarily engage my stomach — another cup of coffee. This one cost Rs 79. Had I had a cup cake along with it, my bill would have been Rs 129. It was mentally unacceptable and therefore rejected.
The TV in the corner was tuned to one of the 24x7 news channels. The story right then was India's unsafe airlines, among them the airline I was due to take. I sipped my expensive coffee and wondered what others around were thinking.
Fish bowl
Boarding procedure begun, we got into a bus to reach the aircraft. We passed several parked aircraft nearby. The Mumbai airport was in construction mode. There were as many construction workers in bright helmets on and around the runway as there were aviation staff. A few of them gazed at the bus slowly picking its way along. Airport buses have big windows. We must have looked like a giant shop window or packed fish bowl travelling by.
Amidst the dust and gloom of construction was a parked aircraft from a recently troubled airline. A thick coat of brown dust graced its spine. The nose had been removed and the stub wrapped in foil. The wheels were under wraps. The plane had no engines. Our tour continued.
The bus was on the road at the airport's edge. It seemed to go all around the airport. After a while we crossed the black, sewer-river that cuts through the airport. I looked towards a few foreign tourists to gauge their reaction. Then I concluded that was meaningless — except one, no country exceeds India's population and none had as many people crowded into India's area. The world better get used to our mess.
By now several people were a mix of concern and amusement at what increasingly resembled a rambling tour of the airport than a short trip to board a flight. To the right, we passed a row of sleek corporate jets. Close by to the left was the airport boundary wall and almost touching it, those controversial slums jamming the Mumbai airport. There was a road near it and once in a while the top of a passing BEST bus or truck peeked over the boundary wall. It was the blurred edge of two distinct worlds jolted to sharpness by the contrast of dismal slum, black water, tired vehicles and this smart fighter jet-like fleet of corporate aircraft. Some distance off, a lone Boeing 737 stood waiting for us.
25 minutes
The aircraft taxied to join a queue of five or more waiting to take off. One take-off was followed by a landing, then a take-off. The pilot informed that thanks to the plane's parking spot in remote location, departure had been delayed by 15 minutes. To that he added 10 minutes courtesy the take-off queue; a total delay of 25 minutes. We finally took off. The air hostess announced food — a piece of cake and 200ml of water. The magazine rack was empty. We read the aircraft safety instructions instead.
One week later, an early morning and yet again with no breakfast had, I reached the Thiruvananthapuram airport. Coffee sold for Rs 10-30 a cup. The starting cost for tea was Rs 8. An old friend I ran into — he worked for an airline — apprised me of difficult times with delayed salaries. He sighed and laughed through the story. Once airborne, I got water and slice of cake. Mumbai's airport was still construction site. It took an hour to collect my baggage and leave. Some day all that construction may make sense. The Rs 79-coffee won't; ever.
(The author is a freelance journalist based in Mumbai.)