Of boisterous Indians and their compulsive antics.....

<The Ministry of Tourism, India pegs the number of Indians who travelled abroad in 2013 at nearly 1.75 million <http://tourism.gov.in/>. This rapidly growing number, it is believed, will touch 5 million by 2020. Imagine 50 lakh Indians let loose into the civilised world! >

Last month, after an enjoyable but hectic holiday in Japan and Hong Kong, my husband and I were scheduled to fly back home from the Hong Kong international airport. When we checked in, the airline staff informed us that our flight to Mumbai would leave from the gate at the farthest end of the terminal, and warned that it would be a bit of a walk. This surprised us because we were flying the country’s national carrier which typically has priority access to airport infrastructure.

So, after navigating an inter-terminal shuttle, half-a-dozen escalators and dozen travelators, we finally arrived at our promised land. We were thankful to find empty chairs there, and slumped down to nurse our aching limbs. But, our peace was short-lived as our co-passengers, mostly our compatriots, started to trickle in. Soon enough, decibel levels in the place began to rise with, “Hey Monty, Sonu, chal ek selfie lethein hain!”, “Pummy aunty, idhar aao,  do seat khali hai”. “Anshal, woh air hostess alia bhat jaisi dikhthi hai na?” resounding in the air. With minutes, our place had turned from a haven of peace into a bedlam house. My husband and I exchanged despondent looks and resigned ourselves for a “busy” flight ahead.

No sooner was the boarding announcement made, began the scuffle to enter the aircraft. If somebody in the queue bent down to tie his shoe lace, the person behind would jump over and move on. Once on board, all passengers wanted their luggage stowed in only above their seats. Things got more complex with them demanding alternate seating arrangements as well, because they were travelling as family – “Myself’, my Mrs and my son, you see” – and, their allotted seats were not together.  For the crew, the logistical complexity involved in accommodating these demands must have made the algorithmic solution for the travelling salesman problem seem like class two mathematics.  Eventually, demands were either settled or squashed, and it was time for take-off.

But, just as the captain instructed the service crew to retire to their seats for take-off, some elderly gentlemen got up to ‘take a leak’. Seeing red, the airhostesses had to rush from their bays to usher the gentlemen back to their seats.

After a nail-biting take-off, momentary peace descended on the flight, and the crew started the much-awaited liquor service. Partly why Indians love to travel abroad is the endless liquor that flows on foreign flights. And, coming from a tropical country, we are also a ‘thirsty lot’.  So, the crew was kept busy with constant demands for fills and refills. Suddenly, a mini hell broke loose when an old lady ended up downing a couple of pegs of brandy thinking it was cola. She settled down only after she was assured that this matter would not be raked up at the time of her eventual meeting with her Maker.  Yet another elderly lady travelling with her son wanted to ensure that he didn’t consume liquor and instructed the stewardess to serve him only a soft drink, much to the embarrassment and disappointment of the poor young man. 

After the drinks, began the food service.  There was a ‘Hindu’ meal and a ‘Jain’ meal as part of the vegetarian fare. Unfortunately, the crew, who were mostly Cantonese, had a frightful time trying to sift the Hindus from the Jains. Sitting behind us was a young lady, who did her bit to add to the chaos.  She had ordered Jain food, and was disappointed to know that the Hindu variant had a delicious looking soufflé, which was not part of her meal. She called the attendant to know if she could swap her dessert with the one in the ‘Hindu’ meal. The attendant apologetically told her that she could opt for the ‘Hindu’ meal instead of the ‘Jain’ meal, but could not swap just the dessert. The young lady immediately launched into a sermon on the differences in the culinary habits of Jains and Hindus and why a Jain could not consume all that the Hindus ate. The attendant soon fled the scene, promising to get back.

Just as the meal service wound up, it was already time for landing. But, our adventures were far from over. Just as the pilot called for touch-down, a middle-aged lady reported that her husband had been gone for long into the washroom. The crew panicked and started to bang on the toilet door to evict the person. Finally, after several bangs, the door opened and out came a sheepish looking gentleman, who, after one too many drinks, had apparently dozed off inside. Relieved, the crew rushed to its seat for landing, and in minutes, we descended and rolled into Chathrapathi Shivaji  Anthar-rashtriya Hawai Adda.

Everything that happened thereafter was routine – people switched on their mobile phones before they were allowed to, ignored the seat-belt sign, unbuckled themselves and sprang up from their seats to retrieve their luggage before the aircraft came to rest, and stamped on each other’s foot to leave before  the exit doors opened.

 Next to us sat a puny Japanese gentleman, who all through the flight sat prim and proper, ate what he was served, did not once ping the crew or get up from his seat, and worked diligently (on his notebook) till destination. On landing, he waited patiently for everyone to leave, delicately fetched his luggage, smiled and bowed to us and left.

When I alighted, I couldn’t help but notice the unusually happy faces of the crew, which was written large with one expression – RELIEF– in bold; and, this time, their ‘thank you mam/sirs’ sounded so genuine.