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Traveling back to Bombay

My trips back to Bombay have always been something of a jinx, resulting in some interesting incident or the other every time I have come back from a more than 3 day hiatus from the city - due to whatever reason. Sometimes it is work related, to sometimes mundane issues like plumbing, electricity, maid - anything in fact, anything at all which can consume ones time and energy.

Dont believe me? Let me retrace over some of the last few times. Once I was returning from Calcutta and there was a transport strike. Which meant I had no means of transporting myself home, except by bus - which was a little far from the station and I had heavy bags. Eventually I managed to rope in a frnd who picked and dropped me home.
Another time my boss quit while I was on leave. Which meant on my return, I had no real boss or understanding of my job responsibilities. Quite a worry I assure you.
As long as the Bombay airport was under renovation, the flights were always delayed by an hour or so - circling over the city. Which meant I was always late - late to reach home or late to reach work.
Once, I returned to see there was no water. No drinking water and no bathing water as the building had water supply under repair, and everyone had been notified a day earlier. However, I was unaware as I was not there. So, for a day, I had to live off a small amount of limited water I made the guards give me.

This time, however, I saw a lot of interesting activity around my travel both sides of the journey. I have been in Ahmedabad for a few days, for work. On the day I left, the flush (at home) broke just at the last moment - so theres work for a plumber in the house. My luggage had to be sent by Rush Baggage on another flight and then someone fell ill in the flight and it left 30 mins late. Elaboration? OK. Though I left home on a non-traffic time, fairly early on a saturday afternoon, I faced a LOT of traffic. Though I had already checked in, my luggage was not. And so, though I was allowed to board the flight, my heavy baggage with my office stuff and loads of reports, was not allowed to board it. Hence, the ppl at Jet Airways sent it by the next flight - 2 hours+ later. I would have to collect it sometime the next day/ late night.
If that was not enough, the lady beside me in the flight stank. The flight was full, not a seat to spare and here I was pre checked-in on a nice seat right in front, with a lady who fidgeted a lot. Every time she fidgeted, I had to stop breathing. I guess it was her hair. An African lady with hair permanently braided onto her scalp. Or whatever its called - you know what I mean.
Then, just as the wheels started rolling, the stewards showing off the safety features stopped mid-sentence, and had all kinds of interesting expressions on their faces. Further investigation of the direction of their gaze showed me nothing. Because there was a group of some more flight attendants. Apparently someone had fallen ill 23 rows behind me. S/he was then escorted out of the plane by a doctor from the airport, under emergency procedure. It was interesting (we taxied back to parking, there was a  lot of communication with ground staff using airline style sign language, a medical van and a practitioner were called along with oxygen n stuff, and then a huddle was seen to depart by the rear door and finally all doors were closed again. Oh! and we got to hear a lot from our Dutch pilot attempting English), but well, it meant the flight left late. However, credit to the airlines, we reached only 10 mins late than the original arrival time. We took some shortcut over the sea and the view was awesome. That also meant a lot of turbulence as monsoon was approaching Bombay, and we moved through cumulo-nimbus clouds. This was one occassion when if the flight wouldve been late, I wouldnt have cared - it wouldve made my baggage collection easier!

My return journey was another ballgame. This time I ensured that not only was I checked in, I was early enough to have my baggage checked in as well. And then I made my way and waited to board the flight. Finally our call came, and we sat down. It was late and I thought I would have dinner - some sandwich which turned out worse than I expected. My advice? Never try the Chicken Tikka s/w of Jet.Usually their food is decent but this was - well the bread was yellow (dont ask me why) and the chicken was tasteless. Then, just as we were arriving our kind captain told us there was not landing room. No landing room for a scheduled flight?!! After the airport has finished its renovation work over a year ago?! Ah hell. After a lot of dipping and circling around raining clouds, we eventually landed a whole 40 mins later than the scheduled time.
And then we waited at the luggage belt. Everyone got their stuff, except me. It turned out, they sent my bag over to transition for International Flights. God knows what country that poor used bag full of office documents would have arrived in, had I not demanded it brought back to me immediately.

Finally, I was back home. Today morning my newspaper man and my maid assumed I will be out of town for some reason and didnt turn up. And then, the rains resumed. I have to now go and get rain footwear, and check on the raincoat I carried, but didnt use today. Oh! and get a plumber.

Like I say, my trips back to the city of Mumbai have yet to be peaceful transitions.

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Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
rexzilla
25th Jun, 2009 10:58 (UTC)
Iz rather obvious..
you didn't perform the necessary sacrifices and rituals under the full moon :D
The only thing that could top your African co-passenger would be if you were sitting in an air conditioned railway compartment. With a traditional Indian joint family, complete with bawling kids.
kaddu10
29th Jun, 2009 06:38 (UTC)
LOL !
Ok, sorry for laughing on your travesty but that is what incidences are for , no?
>Twhak< oh! Sorry! I dont want me to relive my incidences in Harare! :D
Hey, did no know that lady was african! ( sound was very low ) but now I can nuderstant the smell and felling already pukish! remember I told you about my bus ride back from Mikumi national park to Dar es salaam ? There was this lady in the front seat , you could literally see something plastered over her head and stinking like hell. We were statues trying to keep our noses in direct wind line of windows..
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

About Me


Regurgitations of my mind. Specific, Vague, Memorable, Forgettable, Thoughtless, In-depth.

More variegated than your dreams or colours off a crystal. More than I can pen down. What I can, you can read.


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