Reporting straight from the Bangalore Airport

I am in the Bangalore airport, waiting for my King Fisher flight to Chennai which is scheduled for 8.55 p.m..

It has been three days since I saw my wife and am looking forward to it. Those that are married would understand how important it is to see one`s wife at regular intervals. Handsome, young men like me who have a high flying lifestyle (yes…the 737-800 travels at more than 32,000 meters high) need that regular dose of don`t-waste-your-time-on-air-hostesses-you-are-married medicine.

If you think I have changed in recent times, you must meet Roshan Mani who also entered the high-flying lifestyle ten days back. His wife now wears a white shirt, a flaming red jacket and a flaming red short skirt. No, she isn`t working for King Fisher.

The Bangalore airport looks like a railway station. The only things missing are the dirty railway tracks, the spitting panwalah, the porters, the oh bhaiya baju trolleys, the Station Master`s room, the stench of urine, Higginbotham`s and the food packetwala who parcels stale dinner and fools us every time we trust him. Railway station, minus the railway. Guess this is the right time to introduce a one-liner I read in a station master`s room once. Here is how it goes: Since railway stops at the railway station, my work stops at my work station.

I turned around and saw a couple with four kids sitting next to me. They were aged 1 year, 2 years, 3 years and 5 years. For a while I wondered why, and then a thought struck me…maybe the father was a mathematician and prime numbers interested him. After all…1, 2, 3 & 5 are the four lowest possible prime numbers.

I strained to overhear their conversation. The wife was angry while the husband as always was apologetic.

“I wish we had brought along the microwave for our Christmas vacation,” I heard the husband say.

Why would anybody want a microwave for a vacation, I wondered. I guess his wife and I think the same way because the very next minute I heard her ask her husband: “Why would you need the microwave?”

“JLT.” It was the husband speaking. I noticed a bit of fear, a pinch of apprehension and a tinge of apology in his tone.

“What JLT?” If the wife hadn`t said anything for a few more micro seconds, I would have definitely jumped in and asked what JLT was.

“Just like that, yaar.” I could see that the husband was sweating.

“No, seriously…we are yet to check in five pieces of luggage, we have two cabin baggage and now you say we should have brought along the microwave too.”

“Yeah…I had left the flight tickets on the microwave.”

I couldn`t laugh because I couldn`t let the couple know that I was overhearing their conversation.  

Right in front of me a fifty year old man is sitting with a notebook open. If you thought it was his Adult school homework notebook, quit reading this blog and grab a Chandamama or a Champak. BTW, Adult school is not someplace where you get to read porn and take exams in sexology. Anyway, looking at his notebook my respect for him went up a bit…but the very next second I notice 18 King Fisher security check tags attached to the black, leather bag in which he kept his notebook. Perhaps, he wanted me to know that he has traveled by air 18 times. As a matter of fact, my laptop bag has nine security check tags dangling.

While I was surveying the area for my next victim, a King Fisher air hostess walked past me. She asked the gentleman sitting next to me if he was flying King Fisher…somehow she didn`t ask me. Wonder why. What was it that she saw in the gentleman…that I didn`t have?

Not one to take such insults sitting down, I got up, bowed at the air hostess and announced: “I am traveling by King Fisher.” She just stared at me and walked away.

Even as she walked past I thought I heard her saying: “Companies should stop paying for these clowns.”

I immediately looked around…didn`t see any clowns and shouted back: “Excuse me, where are the clowns? I have never seen a traveling circus!”

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