Air travel, not too long ago, had a special aura around it. International travel was considered even more remarkable. Siblings or cousins visiting from a ‘foreign’ country (de facto, US) garnered outsized attention at social gatherings. A ‘welcome party’ comprising relatives and friends greeted their arrival at the airport. It is difficult to imagine, in hindsight, why some of us could not help gawking at our ‘foreign’ visitors. Was it their conspicuous attire that was a ‘cut’ above what the rest of us were wearing or was it the pleasing fragrance that enveloped their persona (which, by the way, I used to call ‘the foreign smell’)? But, I digress.
The rise of the Indian middle class with its significant buying power has made domestic air travel affordable to many. Undertaking leisure travel by air has ceased to be the exclusive preserve of the well heeled. Now, the bourgeois too have been invited to the party it seems. Distant lands are enjoying a newfound intimacy with vacationers, thanks to the very many flights that can ferry them to those places. Smaller towns too are now connected by air. One of the fallouts of such welcome developments is, travel by flight no longer carries the cachet it used to. Even foreign travel hardly gives you bragging rights these days.
The first flight is unforgettable. My own maiden flight, many years ago, was a business trip to Mumbai (then Bombay). The experience was anything but frightful, considering that I had boarded the plane at Bengaluru with some trepidation. The modest Hindustan Aeronautics Limited (HAL) airport had neither multiple terminals nor gates. It seemed as if the departure and arrival areas had coalesced into one big ‘hall’.
A cursory patting of your body was all that was done to clear you through security. You were expected to physically identify your checked-in baggage, which was neatly arranged on the tarmac, before stepping on to the wheeled-in ladder butting against the aircraft. Aero bridges were non-existent. As one walked to board the plane, one could wave back at relatives and friends and with the visitors’ balcony being within earshot distance, even hear their goodbyes! The only domestic airline flying those days (or allowed to fly, I must say) was Indian Airlines. Flight tickets had manual entries, whose legibility rivaled that of a doctor’s prescription. Added to this, their carbon copies were smudgy.
Once inside the aircraft, one could look forward to some high-quality stewarding in a convivial atmosphere. Sumptuous food ‘on-the-house’ was the order of the day. Passengers were always made to feel privileged, but it is another matter that some of them used these ‘perks’ to the hilt, beckoning stewardesses at will, to fulfill frequent sundry requests.
India’s major airports today can rival the best in the world. Yet, one feels that the informal, friendly and welcoming in-flight experience that prevailed back then has given way to a business-like and straight-jacketed demeanour now.