Last summer during vacation, when I visited Sid in London , I got plenty of time to watch television, a luxury which is denied when the school routine starts full swing. 'Airport' was the most watched serial. I remember sitting glued to the TV as the drama at the airport unfolded on the screen.The helplessness of the passengers who were denied entry was firmly etched in my mind. The reasons were various- forgotten passports, getting to the terminal after the gates were closed, being rude to fellow passengers or to the stewardesses, racism, luggage improperly packed etc.Needless to say, 'Airport ' was my favourite serial, next to my other favourite, CSI.But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I too would be embroiled in an imbroglio similar to the one on TV.
The journey from Chandigarh to Delhi is supposed to take 5 hours. Since our flight from Delhi to Kochi via Mumbai was scheduled for 6.40 am, we decided to to travel by road at night from Chandigarh.A visit spiced with good will, good humour and charming hospitality was coming to an end. A lingering farewell with promises to come again, and we packed into the Innova waiting to transport us to Delhi airport.
A cold winter's night at the lag end of December. Comfortably ensconced in woollens and blankets, the winter chill could not dampen our spirits. The streets of Chandigarh passed by in a haze and we relived the funny moments we had in this famous city, significant to us as the birth place of my younger son Arjun and my daughter in law Kivya. Once the city limits flitted past , we were rudely forced to veer away from memory lane into cold reality as we hit the fog head on.
Visibility nil.Our Innova GLE was not fitted with fog lights. Good humour slowly gave way to pangs of anxiety and worry as the driver struggled and strained at the wheel.My brother in law Col Ramesh had once narrated his experience in the fog when they were out on firing in Rajasthan. A jawan had to walk in front of the jeep with a torch inorder to show them the way in the fog. But sans the jawan and the torch light, we tagged on to the tail light of the car in front of us and plodded our way through the dense fog. When the vehicle neared the city limits, the fog thinned and we could make out the vague shapes of buildings on the sides and the row of vehicles going in front. But once we passed the city limits, we had to slow down due to the dense fog.Continuous honking from behind reminded us that we were slowing others down. So we allowed them to pass. A white Maruti followed by a row of bigger vehicles passed by in a procession. We admired the pluck of the driver who could so undauntedly plunge into the blinding fog.But soon we saw a reverse manouvre taking place. The valiant vehicles which had surged forward were now trying to veer to the back, allowing us to go ahead.We politely refused the offer to overtake. 'Pahle aap, pahle aap'.It was a race to bring up the rear, not to lead from the front.
While setting off, I had visualized a cosy 5 hr sleep in the car. But now , I was sitting on edge, fervently praying to my favourite deities to come to our aid:-'Lead kindly light, amidst the encircling gloom..lead thou me on..'As the hours ticked by, tension mounted. Finally we saw Delhi lights. The fog had lifted. Our Innova zoomed ahead.We broke all speed limits and some traffic rules.Five souls in one car, with one aim, one business- ye dilli hai yaar---.
As the lights and sign boards indicating Delhi airport became visible, we scrutinized the tickets for the terminal.Only Indira Gandhi International Airport was written.No terminal no..Sid called the call centre and confirmed that it was Delhi International Airport. So we assumed it meant the main airport and directed the driver accordingly.An hour before boarding time we alighted with broad grins and whole hearted 'Thank you's.The driver, grinning from ear to ear, bade us Good bye and bon voyage.As he started his homeward journey, we lugged our luggage to the security gate. One look at the ticket and the guard said-'This flight takes off from the Domestic terminal'.
Aghast, we turned back in full throttle.No sign of our taxi. Mobiles were retrieved from jacket pockets and urgent calls went from four mobiles to the same receiver.The alarmed driver could find no U turn to reverse the car. We waited for a full 10 minutes before the cab came back. Another 10 minutes to rush to the domestic terminal.Once again ,lugging the luggage ..'hurry up,please, it's time------'.Four woollen packed figures reached the counter, puffing and panting.The immaculately clothed young man with the most impassive expression on his face, indicated the sign which said,' Gate Closed', and said, 'I am sorry, Madam.We can't allow you to board now'.I remembered all the passengers who had faced similar situations in the serial.Replayed the scene in my mind. How had they tackled the situation? Some were mad, some were wild, some had pleaded, some had begged.What should I do?
Never give up- the strains of a song came to my mind. So we persisted. Demanded to see the manager.A young man came. I was relieved to see that he looked human and reasonable. Sid and I explained our predicament. He said that particular airline always used the Domestic terminal. I said we didn't know. He said we should have called. We said we had.But nobody mentioned the terminal no.He said it was written outside. We said we were in a blazing hurry ,so could not read the boards. He asked why we hadn't ascertained before getting out of the taxi. We said we had no clue at all till the security guard told us.As we traded arguments, the Manager went around to find out if we could be accommodated somehow. It was our luck to find a reasonable young man who could empathize with our plight. A rarity, as we could discern from the reaction of the others around us.But all flights were fully booked. He offered to give us four seats for the next day. We refused at first. My leave was over and I had to rejoin the next day.We demanded to see the highest authority. So we were taken to the Airport Manager. Again luck was on our side. Another man with a sense of humour.. He agreed that the Airlines people should have mentioned the terminal. It was the fault of the agency which issued the ticket. He advised us to take up the offer of the tickets for the next day. So we did.
The Airlines would not provide accommodation.We made our way to the Army Guest House. It was fully booked. We rang up the officer in charge. Thank God for old world courtesy and chivalry.And compassion for the plight of a fellow officer's family. The officer left no stone unturned to ensure that we got at least one room. Later one more. The bonds that unite the Army fraternity are as strong as ever.We slept without tension and worry and made up for our sleeplessness the previous night.
Our travails did not end there. We had arranged for a taxi to pick us up from Cochin. By the time I informed the travel agency, the taxi had already left Trivandrum to pick us up from Cochin. It had to be recalled and rescheduled for the next day. But the next day was Kerala's own Hartal day and taxis and autos were to go off road as protest against fuel hike.Where there is a problem, there will be a solution too. So the taxi turned into a private vehicle and we reached home at mid night. In God's own country too,some rules are to be followed, others to be bent and some few to be broken or amended.
