:: Cyrus Broacha

A new hazard in cattle class

By Cyrus Broacha

Sep 20 : This novel is not for the faint-hearted. Actually it is not really a novel, it’s really only about three paragraphs and, as everyone who has ever read a novel would know, a novel has at least four paragraphs. So let’s call this by it’s real name, a dossier. This dossier is not for the faint-hearted. It’s the tale of a man who undertook a domestic flight. In this age of strikes, chaotic air traffic and Al Qaeda (which, by the way, is as yet not a registered airline) flying is largely considered the most courageous act by all civilised societies. Domestic flying even more so, what with the stale food and fragile cutlery. Of course, uncivilised societies don’t have their own airlines. They choose to get their flying kicks by hijacking one of ours and then refusing to eat the food on board. Actual consumption would be beyond even their higher calling.

Last week, I, in a singular blind act of courage, boarded a domestic flight. As usual, I medicated myself sufficiently before doing this. But since the airport doesn’t yet have Wada (World Anti-Doping Agency) on board, this is not really a major problem. My observations about this flight is the scary part that follows: Problem one, was at the entry. With the rule of identifying who you are causing all the confusion. We Indians like to bring our relatives along so that they can help with the identification. When this is not enough, the passenger searches hopelessly for his wallet, a process that averages out at three to three-and-a-half hours. Once in control of the damn thing, he proceeds with his plan of selecting the correct photograph. It’s normally the one of him looking down at his feet, eyes shut, aged 16.

After a lot of negotiations with the security guard (who by now knows the passenger so well that he wants to exchange numbers and immediately starts SMSing the passenger, a move that he will continue for the rest of his life), the passenger is allowed to enter the airport, only by now he’s grown a beard. If, obviously, he already had a beard, it stands to reason that he now sports a longer one. The passenger then is presented in front of the check-in counter, a task that he finds more daunting than facing a firing squad or Kayne West in a music awards show, whichever came first. Hopefully, the firing squad. You will observe now Newton’s Third Law of Aerodynamics (India franchise), which simply states that "At all times the passenger just ahead of you in the queue is the one who’ll take the longest time to obtain his ticket". Why is this so? Well, that remains a grey area. And when we tried contacting Grey, he had an extremely long coughing fit and hung up.

Once you have finished with the ticketing, you are moved to the grazing area, also known as the security check. Whilst actually conducting the body search, security men are confronted by three types of applicants:

Applicant 1 keeps his hands really high, like he’s a victim in a hold-up. He also takes a long time to lower his hands, normally 27 minutes after the body check is completed. Apparently he enjoys this kind of thing.

Applicant 2 is the nervous type who has to be told all instructions twice. He is constantly feeling guilty he may be carrying a Bazooka on him, and so he ends up sharing every bill and tissue paper in his pockets with the security.

Applicant 3 actually ignores the whole procedure. He continues to chat with his colleague while the search is being conducted. He is oblivious to the entire body search and, generally, can’t even recall if he flew at all that day. Occasionally, he’s known to tip the security staff as well.

The bus ride is not good for anyone who is married. The bus provided normally accommodates 23, but your bus will always have 47 passengers. When the bus starts, as well as when it stops, all passengers will be flung to one side of the bus where their limbs will be on top of one another, forming a human chain similar to the one practised at the mass marriage ceremony in northern Fiji. Strangers are forced to become lovers and lovers occasionally land up with strangers.

Finally, when you are on board the aircraft, there is no longer any place to hide. This is because the entire flight, from top to bottom, is now crawling with politicians. You see, ever since the high command told ministers to downgrade to economy, all passengers live in mortal fear. Previously you didn’t have to encounter him as he was safely locked up in the cabin up-front. All that has changed, as he is now let loose on an unsuspecting public, like a wolf to sheep. You, yes you, may be sitting next to Sharad Pawar or Kamal Nath. If there’s only one puri bhaaji left, who do you think they are going to give it to? You? What about parachutes? What about the toilet?

Yup, it’s looking extremely dangerous for you and me to travel by air anymore. Please join me in begging Pranab Mukherjee to reverse his austerity plan and allow our hallowed leaders the comfort they deserve in business class.

Sign here, in this space, _________ to show your solidarity.