On the way--scratchpad

The phone buzzed around 3:45 am. Sadia wanted to know if I was coming down given Jehan Ara was ill and in no fit shape to travel. In 10 minutes, I was at the main entrance of the Oberoi. Spotted: Sadia and Asad exchanging friendly fire, Owais bag-less, Nadeem playing with his handheld and Lutfullah Khan ready to go.

Having done a 24 hour wake-a-thon, coupled with an unnecessary amount of nervous energy spent over Bangalore’s details, I was aloof. The thought of another ‘bus’ trip to the airport was squeamish – having spent a good deal commuting the same route since day one in India. None of the other delegates showed signs of fatigue and we were soon on the bus, on the move.

Mumbai’s domestic airport was no sight for sore eyes, like its international airport. If you can remember what Islamabad airport was 10 years from this date, you can picture the low-tech look of Mumbai’s airports. Queues and documentation take forever, awkward pillars rise from the ground in the middle of the walkway (you could be forgiven for walking right into them) and passengers are swarming around. Foreigners, hipsters, families and couples abound to exotic places like Goa or Bangalore (!). Such is the hustle bustle on a domestic airport at 4 am. Unlike Karachi, Dubai or Heathrow, you are spared a long walk to get anywhere.

Our seats were booked on Jet Airways, one of four private domestic operators for a whopping US$272/- (at least to a journalist’s ears). At the foot of a huge gate, we hopped on a shuttle to get on a Jet plane. Comfortable seats, stewards on their toes (blankets and pillows, presto!), and a heavy head compelled me to forget about keeping a pulse of the delegation. Not to be. Despite dozing for 10 minutes, Owais’ infectious energy (non-stop work talk) and Asad’s quips directed at Sadia seated next to me left room for a numb flight. The smell of breakfast was nauseating but when Sadia announced that there would be none waiting in Bangalore, every one munched away. I had a sad looking bun. My hands were no longer communicating with my brain, food was out.

For a one hour fifteen minute flight, this has been an awfully long description.