It was a very chilly evening in Delhi, on Wednesday the 6th of February, but not chilly enough to subdue the excitement of my seven year old son. The excitement of traveling by air, his first, infused energy in him. He cared very little for the cold as ran around without his woolens, his mom in chase. He ran outdoors, rushed into his friend’s house next door, leaving their door open and inviting the wrath of his friend’s mom not only on him, but on us too for having no control on him.
Full two hours later when the taxi arrived, he was the first to be seated and pestered the driver no end, and kept honking till the entire neighborhood was out cursing our complete dynasty. I rushed out with the baggage, keen not to prolong the agony of the colony.
Litejet airlines were a low cost airline, and it was to be my first experience with them. It was a direct flight from Delhi to Patna. Earlier it was my sister who had deprived me of the window seat, then it was my wife an now it was my son. I never got to sit by a window in an aircraft till date. Soon after take off, I let my son wander and his exploration started. All along he was a pain, too much for the hostess to control. I had to literally fasten my son to his seat when they announced descent. I prayed for the ordeal to end, and it ended with a bumpy touch down.
I was not prepared for what followed next. It was a beginning of a nightmare.
‘Look this is Allahabad not Patna,’ said my son, pointing at the letters written in bold capitals above the arrival terminal as we walked towards it.
I was surprised and so were the co-passengers around me.
‘How come? May be it’s an unscheduled halt for a VIP. We should be taking off soon,’ some one said.
‘Let’s check’, I told the man walking by my side towards the terminal.
We hunted for an hour totally frustrated but could not find a man from Litejet. There were no announcements either.
All of a sudden there was an announcement for the passengers of Litejet to collect their luggage. Shocked, we ran to the booth from where the announcement was made. The official tried to escape but the irate passengers managed to nab him and demanded an explanation. There were about 40 passengers breathing down his neck, ladies included. He told us that due to bad weather the flight could not proceed to Allahabad, so our flight had to be terminated at Patna.
‘Where do we go now?’
‘Refund our fares.’
‘Book us for the night in some hotel’
‘Call the police.’
‘Who is your boss, I will fix him’.
The passengers kept shouting. There was no end to the chaos in sight.
Suddenly some police officials entered the arrival lounge picked up the luggage of some passengers and escorted them to a red light flashing car and zipped away. ‘That was the minister’s family,’ one said.
‘Take me back to Delhi’ one lady said, ‘I have come from the US, and I am lost here.’
‘The flight has already left for Delhi’, the official said.
I heard the official whisper to one, ‘disperse the passengers; don’t let them gather in one place, or else they will go out of control.’
Ultimately we were told that two buses would soon be placed at our disposal. The thought of a good night’s sleep pacified the passengers. I sat down totally exhausted while my son sat on the suitcase. It was his responsibility to guard it.
He was quite disturbed at my plight and that of other passengers, too.
‘Why don’t you call the police if they don’t give our money back?’
‘Why is the boss not there? I think he is hiding.’
‘Put him in jail, he is cheating all of us.’
‘Fine him.’
He went on and on. A little girl sitting next to him agreed, her head bobbing enthusiastically at his suggestions. The frustration of the little ones knew no end.
At was around midnight that two buses were placed at our disposal and an official escorted us to them. Having loaded our baggage, the two buses set off. After about 20 minutes when the bus took to the highway and moved into the wilderness out of the city, we all realized that something was a miss. There was no official on the bus.
‘Driver bhai kahan ja rahe ho?’ the person in the front asked the driver.
‘Saab, hum to Allahabad ja rehe hai.’
We could not believe our ears. All our hopes of spending the night in a hotel were dashed. The passengers created a racket, but the driver stood his ground. He had his orders to take us to Allahabad airport and no where else, he would not budge.
We resigned ourselves to our fate. The temperature outside was short of freezing, but inside it was hot with all the fretting and fuming.
‘Papa, why don’t you ring up the police and complain.’
‘They won’t do a thing.’ I said in despair.
‘Why don’t you tell the chief minister,’ I looked down and shook my head.
‘Why don’t you tell the prime minister,’ he said totally agitated. I shook my head again.
‘Why don’t you ring up Bush and tell him, he will bomb them like he did Iraq.’ I just kept shaking my head all the way, and just kept quiet
At last we could see the lights of Allahabad. As we entered Allahabad and all passengers sat up. The second bus was no where in sight.
‘Driver bhai, jara age rokna, mera ghar thoda age hai.’ The driver had his orders and not willing to compromise, and drove on.
A little further another passenger requested the driver. It was a lady with a smile and a Rs 50 note. It worked. The driver obliged. The passengers who was declined earlier was furious.
‘Ye lo, aur mujhe piche chordo,’ it was Rs 100 note this time. The bus executed a smooth turn and went back and dropped the passenger right at the door step. Now it was my turn. We got off in front of my dad’s home. The driver must have been richer by over 2000 bucks when he reached the Allahabad airport with his empty bus.
My wife had spoken to my dad after I took off from Delhi. I was not carrying my mobile. My dad, who had been to Patna airport to receive me, almost had a heart attack. No one had any clue where the aircraft had vanished. He was told initially that the aircraft was late by an hour when we had already landed at Patna, and at midnight, only when he was told that the aircraft had landed back at Delhi did he return home.
He called my wife the moment he returned home and told her that I had returned back to Delhi. She checked back form the airport only to be told that the aircraft had returned empty. All efforts to locate me failed. In the melee, I failed to make a call and cursed my self.
My son, who was a witness to this entire episode, observed a studied silence. In the morning when he spoke to his mom over the phone, he gave vent to his fury. He said that when he grew up, he would will kill the pilot of the aircraft, the manager of the Litejet airlines, and punish the police and the government for not taking any action. He would fight and get the refund from the government.
Yesterday I returned home to Delhi, but by another airline. All’s well that ends well I thought, but it was not to be.
In the middle of the night she woke me up, ‘I think he will be a militant when he grows up.’
‘Don’t you worry darling, he has long way to go, sleep now,’ I consoled her wondering whether this could be the making of another militant.
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