Having lived and worked overseas for over 30 years, I must have clocked at least 500,000 air miles by now. Most trips have been uneventful and routine but still, there are a few which stand out in memory.
My first flight was one of them. The year was 1976, I was 25 and had some months earlier joined Modella Steels in Bombay as a Project Engineer. The project was still getting off the ground and basically at that time there were just three on the staff – Dr. U.N. Bhrany the Managing Director, Manu Ambwaney who had joined a few weeks before me as a Commercial Manager and me – a greenhorn who had graduated from the IIT just two years ago. Manu was older than me with more work experience. His job was to source and liaise with the vendors who were supplying machinery and equipment. My job was to evaluate the stuff technically. So I was more desk bound studying specifications and preparing comparative statements, while Manu would be all over the place ostensibly following up. Manu and me became good colleagues (we are still in touch), and he would often ask me to accompany him as we visited the vendors. Many such trips meant a fancy lunch at a fancy restaurant, courtesy the vendor and it was a good time. While most vendors were based in and around Bombay, there was one vendor Bird & Co. based in Calcutta. Bird & Co. is the same company where Amitabh Bachchan once used to work, (probably a decade or more earlier) before he joined the movies. Every few weeks Manu would be off to Calcutta for a ‘follow up’. And although company policy did not allow junior staff like us to routinely travel by air, an exception was made for this travel keeping in mind the logistics, time and expenses vis-à-vis train travel. We both reported directly to the MD and he knew that time was a lot more important than travel costs. We enjoyed a lot of freedom in the way we worked.
As the project started taking shape, equipment started getting ready for delivery, and a time came when I too was required to travel to Delhi (and later other places) for pre-shipment inspection of some machinery before its dispatch to the project site at Ratlam. I was not yet married and was living with my Chacha (Father’s younger brother) and Chachi (Aunt) at Wadala. I traveled to Delhi by the Frontier Mail, a 24 hour rail journey, and spent the next few days there finishing what I needed to. In Delhi too, I stayed with another Aunt (Fathers elder sister) and their family at Karol Bagh.
Work getting over, it was time for me to plan going back. And I thought, hey why don’t I take this chance to go by air. It’s far more expensive than a train but I guess I could justify it, not that anybody is going to ask, and nobody should, considering the amount of money I have saved the company by staying with my aunt instead of in a hotel. I’d be home in a few hours, and even back to work the next day, instead of on a train.
There was only one carrier in India – Indian Airlines – flying domestic routes in that era and I had walked past their office at Connaught Place many times, peeking in, longing to be able to go in one day. That day was here at last. I went in and was quickly served. I chose a flight for the next evening, paid for my ticket with trembling hands and walked out confidently with the distinctive orange coloured paper ticket tucked into my shirt pocket – everybody in Delhi needed to see I had arrived and I was now an air traveler.
Once home, I excitedly told my aunt, guess what, I’m going back by air. I got a lecture from her on learning not to waste money at this young age, after all my uncle (her husband) was in the Indian Railways and he could have easily got me a confirmed ticket from the Railway Quota in a train of my choice even at short notice. Uncle was more understanding, he laughed it off, and said enjoy. But little did I know what he had in store for me.
Next day, there was really no official work, I went out briefly anyway, and came back to finish my packing. This was the era before trolley bags and most business travelers used those large hard plastic VIP Bags, (which had a tare weight of a couple of Kilos), for their personal effects. And briefcases as carry on business bags. Likewise for me. Now, I was still a bachelor, this was the era before laptops and mobiles had even been invented, so how much baggage would I have really had to pack? Still, after closing the bag, I began to worry – what if I’m overweight? My uncle picked up the bag and said, you’re very OK, but could I believe him? NO. So I dragged my bag to the end of the street where a RaddiWala (Scrap Dealer) had a shop and paid him to weigh it for me on his weighing balance. It was 11Kg. I was sure this guy cheats people by under weighing. Anyway, it was far less than the 20Kg which was allowed at that time, so no need to panic. I headed back home, where the mother of all surprises awaited me.
While I had been out weighing my bag, my uncle had been down to the vegetable vend and had picked up a couple of Kilos of Sarson ka Saag (Mustard Greens), all bundled and tied up. He handed the lot to me, and said, since you are traveling so light, and by air, and also going straight home, it would be a nice gesture to carry some of this for your aunt in Bombay. It is after all a seasonal delicacy, a speciality of Delhi, not available there, so she’ll be really happy. I said fine, let’s just pack it properly in a poly bag so that I can put it into my suitcase. No No, he said. In the bag it will wilt and lose its freshness. You need to carry it n your hand, open to the air just like this,
I completely freaked out. My first flight. I want to be free from any and all encumbrances to be able to enjoy it. And I certainly don’t want to be looking like a cartoon carrying huge bundles of Mustard Greens in my hand while on a flight. So I told him firmly – NO WAY. There was a lot of convincing, emotional blackmail, lectures on the importance of harmonious family living. But I was not having any of it. I just left from there as soon as I could, for the safety of the airport. The mood was completely off and the pleasure of the flight was gone even before it had started,
But I guess the ride to the airport, the checking in, (there was no such thing as security check back then), getting relieved of your bag at the baggage counter and being free to wander around the terminal, watch and hear planes land and take off from close quarters made me forget the unpleasantness. I was going to be myself and simply enjoy the experience.
Just then I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was one of our vendors from WMI Bombay, Hotchand Mirchandani, or Hotu as we all knew him. Manu also used to work for WMI before he joined Modella Steels, and we used to get together from time to time. Hotu too was a commercial person so he traveled a fair amount, often by air I guess. We ended up sitting together on the flight, me excitedly at the window, and he next to me. Every moment was a new experience for me, the bus ride to the aircraft, the boarding, the way the seats and rows are numbered, just about every little thing. Like all first timers, I too fumbled with the seat-belt. I was able to wear it and lock it, but struggled when I tried to open it and Hotu quickly showed me how to. What a feeling of awe as the aircraft revs up, zips along the runway, lifts off and you see the ground below becoming smaller. Then the airline food, it used to be good those days, served in the standard orange coloured Indian Airline plastic trays. I could see several people putting the empty trays and used cups into their briefcases. This was India after all, the stuff would be useful to impress visitors – I’m a flyer you know.
And then the approach into Bombay, the bright lights of the Maximum City down below getting closer as the plane descends the sudden noise of the reverse thrust after the plane touches down, the zip along the runway, the taxiing to the gate, and whatever else. I was mesmerized by everything.
By the time I reached my aunt’s home they had been informed about my obstinacy, and I was expecting another unpleasant scene. But my uncle was hardly bothered and my aunt just told me, I kept telling them not to send it with you. I know it’s not easy to carry it like that. Really appreciated their understanding.
It’s now forty odd years since, and I sometimes regret why I had been so totally inflexible. I was really close to my Aunt and Uncle in Bombay. They had looked after me, ever since I moved to the Powai IIT at the age of 16, and even after I started work in Modella, I lived with them in their small flat. I always said small flat but very large heart. Our son Mohit too was born in a nursing home right next door to their building and their support was amazing. Now they and that whole generation have passed on. I wonder if they carried a memory of this with them.
Many clouds have passed under my wings too since then. I’ve done a lot of flying most of it in Business and First Class, occasionally sharing the cabin with celebrities, and earning Gold and Platinum Membership with some of the world’s finest airlines. There have also been flights with some of the worst, especially in Nigeria. I have experienced being just the one solo passenger on a flight from Lagos to Kano. Or on that flight where we were all already seated and a Russian guy walks past us in shorts and flip flops, into the cockpit, starts the engines and begins rolling. He was the pilot apparently. Or the one where the undercarriage refused to open but eventually and fortunately did. And many many such experiences, mostly good, some not so good.
But that first flight – it will always be an unforgettable.