Holmes and Watson recently hitched a ride on “The Maharaja’. The whole experience was horrendous. Standing at the counter to get our boarding passes felt as if we were entering a crèche. From the desk attendant to the luggage porter, everybody had celebrated their “Golden Jubilee” (The statement proved true later when we saw the Captain and the crew. The only respite was the fact that the aircraft was the only exception to this general observation). A Stern looking lady (She looked more like a school headmistress than an airline ground staff) behind the counter rebuked Watson for carrying more luggage than his prescribed limit. It was only after Watson represented that he was a medico and the extra weight was due to his medical kit that she allowed him the excess baggage. Along with the boarding passes came the curt instructions, “The flight is late by 90 minutes. Please bear with us”. Did we have an option? No! ( At that point of time Holmes did not know that the overzealous, salt and pepper haired lady had given both of us window seats resulting in different rows for both of us. I failed to understand that from which angle did we both look like vagabonds who were capable of violating public tranquility).
Commercial aviation was brought to India was the visionary entrepreneur- Jehangir Ratanji Dadabhoy Tata, affably known as JRD. Known as TATA Airlines, the service was restricted to the elite of this sub-continent. When India attained independence, the new policy of “mixed economy” coupled with the concept of “Nehruvian-Socialism” led to the nationalization of the service. Ably led my luminaries including a chap called Bobby Kooka (Who also happened to be JRD’s brother-in-law), the smiling “Maharaja” became a symbol of India’s rich cultural heritage fused with modern technology. It gave its flyers an opportunity to be proud of flying. Monopoly could be clearly seen in highly priced tickets, total ignorance of service standards and no efforts put in to improve technology or service standards. Travelling by air was planned by the rich while the comparatively less rich used it in extreme exigencies like weddings and deaths of close relatives, exams, and employment interviews. Politicos and Senior Government functionaries formulated important policy decision at airports. Flying was almost ‘regalia’. The “Maharaja” was flying high.
In 1991, a certain turbaned gentleman economist opened the doors of India Inc to the world. Aviation Industry was opened to the private sector and foreign investment. Overnight, new players entered the skies. Upgraded aircraft, services of world standards and the commitment to improve on these parameters everyday made the new players snatch away the market share from “The Maharaja”. But the permit to scale the Indian skies and enter foreign airspace still remained with the national carrier. Then arrived a certain avitator who started a commercial airline which took Indians to the sky at a pittance. Fares were as low as Rupee Ninety Nine. Called “No Frill Airlines”, initially, they were like “General compartments” in air. Holmes remembers his first journey in such an airline where he ran faster than Jesse Owens to grab a seat. A tired Holmes rejoiced when he managed to get a seat in the airliner. But the happiness of travelling for a pittance soon turned into a journey of tense moments. The airliner vibrated like a pendulum as soon as it entered the stratosphere. But more should not be expected for a pittance. Soon, every Tom, dick and Harry in India was travelling on an airline.
Anyways, soon “The Maharaja” arrived. Both of us sighed in relief. As we queued up to board the flight, a pan-chewing not so gentleman arrived to help out the passengers. He was nearly six feet tall and could cause displacement equivalent to two people. He constantly murmured into his walkie-talkie but like a seasoned politician refused to answer the irate passengers. After a delay of nearly two hours we boarded the plane. At the gate we were welcomed by stewardess who was so shabby and disheveled in her looks that irritated us more. She was indifferent to the passengers and tore a part of the boarding cards as if it was a punishment thrust on her. When we found our seats, it came to light that both of us had to sit in different rows. Holmes threw a fir but to no avail. Huffing and puffing Watson sat away from Holmes while I made myself comfortable between two middle-aged gentleman who talked about “losing money in the stock market, gall bladder removal surgery and prices of chilies in the wholesale market”.
As opposite to this Holmes remembers his visit to Bombay on an airline service owned by a liquor baron. From the moment Holmes stepped into the airport, the airline staff took over. The luggage was checked in by hospitable porters who seemed really eager to serve the customers. The attendant who issued the boarding card smiled at you as if you travelled with them every day. The stewardesses on the flight welcomed you with such affection that you feel like coming back again and again. There was another apprehension in our mind. Recently “The Maharaja” had caught the habit of ditching its passengers and scooting off to ferry the exponents of the “Gentleman’s game” (Not so gentlemanly anymore, I must say). So, if it did the same to us, my appointment with Ms. Adler would be in utter trouble. And given her ability of burst like a volcano, I feared I could not take such a risk. I somehow managed to keep calm.
Soon, Holmes drove the headphone jack into the allocated slot and turned on the in-flight television service. His co-passenger tried the same but when he failed to find the slot, he shoved the jack into his ear. Holmes thought that he might be trying to hear his own personal TV station, but it was case of mistaken identity. The fellow was cleaning his ear with the headphone jack!!!!!!!!! Ewwwwwwwwww! After has found what he was looking for inside his ear, he shifted to the conversation of “losing money in the stock market, gall bladder removal surgery and prices of chilies in the wholesale market”.
Any piece of writing on airline travel would be incomplete without a reference to the air hostesses. “The Maharaja’s attendants” were a real lousy lot. They were at such a juncture of age where needed to be rather than serving others. Once when Watson smiled at one of them, the smile was returned with such a stare that the poor chap did not smile for the rest of the flight. The scorned look looked as if saying, “What are you wretched people doing here. Why don’t you jump down?”
The lady who served us food must have been on the verge of retirement and was more interested in her social security pension than our culinary needs. Holmes also strongly suspects that she was wearing a wig. She was armed with the latest weapon of “cosmetic poison” and constantly intimidated passengers with her “drop dead or I will kill you” looks. After she served us, she just disappeared never to come back again. The bell to summon attendants it seems was “for cosmetic use only. Do not ring because no one will come”. This was in stark opposition to the other flight I just mentioned above. The prim and properly dressed young ladies showed utter eagerness to assist the passengers. Food was customized to suit our taste-buds. Service was prompt and the smile never disappeared from their faces. And here, they never smiled even once. Not that we paid to watch clowns in the stratosphere, but we were expecting that at least would they would make us feel wanted. Why give us “parachutes mentally” with the constant non verbal cue to “jump down”? How un-elementary.
The food here was less than edible. But no one in the vicinity seemed to be wasting a morsel. The “Headphone jack ear cleaner” gobbled his plate and then cleaned up his neighbours’. Holmes was scared that he might eat up the cutlery too. Phew! Holmes was to his happiness proved wrong. Had he done so, the next morning headlines in the tabloids would have read, “Maharaja robbed of cutlery”.
What a stark difference in the service between the two competitors when the fare charged was almost same. No wonder “The Maharaja” had lost majority of its market share. Instead of prim and properly dressed attendants (as expected in the service industry) we were subjected to shabbily dressed out-of-shape people sporting all kinds of religious insignias. “Punctuality” was confused with punctuation marks and disorder seemed to be the order of the day.
When we got down and waited to collect our luggage, there was utter confusion again. An airline staff arrived at the scene again, not to help but to create more confusion. He killed some time by chewing on some inedible substance and threw the wrapper around as if his littering would turn the plastic wrapper into gold. How disgusting? Collecting our luggage, we walked out to hail a cab. As we settled inside, I looked at Watson and said, “Doctor, we are never traveling on it again. We can become common Indigo coloured kingfishers who can spice jet around and go air but we shall never take an opportunity to be hosted by the Maharaja”. Watson nodded in approval but by habit asked, Why My dear Holmes? Why?” I replied, Elementary my dear Watson, elementary!”
It would be utter foolishness to break one’s nose with the “nose diving Maharaja”. Indeed his nose is too long and needs a snip.
P.S. Dedicated to all those customers who are making “The Maharaja” understand that “privy purses” don’t last forever.
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