chapter 4

Night Flight to DubaiWhy do flights from Thiruvananthapuram to other countries start at unearthly hours? A decent 2 p.m. flight would have been perfect, but no, the sadists who plan flight timings are determined to ensure sleepless nights for passengers. They must have very good reasons for this, but I’d like to imagine they are in league with pharmaceutical companies that manufacture sleeping pills.Rajesh, VK’s cousin, dropped us at the Thiruvananthapuram International Airport at 1 a.m. and we went in, feeling very international. Our flight to Dubai was at 4.35 a.m., but we had to report three hours in advance, and, clearing security and customs without any problem, we made our way to the boarding gate with a lot of time on our hands.I’ve had heart-stopping experiences at airports—bags that beeped at security checks, trolleys that crashed into people and, on a couple of occasions, even ran over the toes of gentle Jekyll passengers who hopped in pain and turned instantly into ferocious Mr Hydes. I have waited at the wrong gate and sprinted to the right one just in time to hear my name being called one last time, while VK once forgot to collect his briefcase after the security check, discovering his oversight only when the cabin doors closed…As I proceeded, relieved it had been smooth sailing this time, I noticed that VK, who generally marches ahead, was walking in a very peculiar manner. In fact, he wasn’t walking as much as jerking, twisting and hopping along. Had he thrown his inhibitions to the winds because we were going to the U.S.? He appeared to be trying out some innovative break dance steps and moonwalk moves that might have raised Michael Jackson’s shapely eyebrows. He stopped when he reached an empty seat and I rushed to him. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.‘I’m all right,’ he snapped, putting the briefcase down and letting go of the handle that had pulled his small suitcase along. ‘It’s these new jeans that aren’t. They are slipping down.’ He yanked them up almost to his chest.‘But how is that possible? The salesperson explained that the elastic…’‘Don’t mention that guy,’ he growled, hands still on the waistband of his jeans. He took a deep breath and continued, ‘The wretched elastic is the villain. Tell me, how can you walk like a normal human being when you are holding a briefcase in your left hand, balancing a sling bag on that shoulder, dragging a suitcase with the other hand which also has a coat draped over the arm, and find that the weight of your phone is pulling down your jeans, thanks to the stupid elastic that stretches with every step I take?’ Fire was threatening to come out of his nostrils.Suppressing a giggle, I suggested he use a belt. ‘Belt? I hate belts. Nothing but trouble. I deliberately left mine behind. I’d have to take it off at security checks, I…’‘Without it, your jeans will be at your feet and the security staff will haul you off for indecent exposure. You have to get one.’At that moment, Amar called to ask if we were done with security and customs. ‘All done, but these jeans have undone me,’ I heard VK tell him. When the conversation was over, VK turned to me and said, ‘I’m going to look for a belt here. Amar says it won’t be easy to get them there, especially if you need to punch a hole or two in them.’ VK’s hourglass figure always calls for the punching of extra holes. He finally managed to buy a belt at the airport. He paid through his nose but it fitted around his waist. He still has it.The sleek Emirates Boeing 777 stood against the midnight blue sky on the runway like a magnificent bird all poised for flight. Or it must have, but we didn’t see it, for we used the aerobridge to stumble our bleary-eyed way into the plane. Two flight attendants, looking immaculate in their uniform familiarised by TV ads, welcomed us, their bright red lips breaking into wide smiles as if we were the right pair of long-lost twins they had been searching for. In their mushroom-coloured skirts and jackets topped with pert red caps sitting jauntily on their well-groomed heads, the tucked in white scarf flowing down to drape their shoulders, they looked so fresh I thought I must be dreaming. How can anyone look so bright, well-turned out and cheerful at 4 in the morning? A bit much.Jolted into wakefulness by the million watt smiles, VK gave our seat numbers and one of them said, ‘At the back.’ We knew that; we had paid good money for those seats. We found them and I settled down. VK took some time, though, for he didn’t know what to do with the huge coat Amar insisted he carry with him during the flight. First, he put it on his lap, but it sat like a paperweight on him, pinning him down. Next, he rolled it and sat on it only to get the feel of sitting on a camel. He tried draping it over the armrest, but it kept slipping down. I would have loved to take bets on where it would fall—into the seat or outside. Finally, he went for the simplest solution—he wore it. I was already in my sweater, foolishly confident it would provide enough protection from the cold inside the plane.The announcements were made and very soon the plane began to taxi. It took off for Dubai at exactly 4.35 a.m. We roared, soared and soon blended into the sky. I looked around, pleased to see an almost full flight. It is the same joy I experience when we are in a movie theatre that is houseful. It’s a special feeling, to know that so many others are enjoying something with you, or sharing your headache if the movie is horrendous.Very soon, a flight attendant, now minus the jacket, cap and scarf, but with the red smile still in place, came around, handing out small pouches that contained earplugs, eye masks and wet napkins. Thin blankets had already been provided. I had done my homework to prepare for the flight. To bypass jetlag, a friend who was a seasoned traveller said I should sleep throughout the flight, a piece of advice totally after my heart. I love such simple solutions. At the same time, she also asked me to walk occasionally, and I don’t think she had sleep walking in mind.Such contradictory advice was baffling until she explained that walking was to prevent thrombosis from setting in. ‘Keep moving your feet when you aren’t walking,’ she added. I got her drift, confusing as it may have been, but I’m glad she is not a commander in the army. What she meant was, try to sleep most of the time. For the rest, when you aren’t walking but seated, move your feet in arcs, clockwise and anti-clockwise. Those people who have the irritating habit of shaking their legs all the time are well-equipped for safe air travel.‘Keep eating,’ was another excellent recommendation. We were perfectly positioned for that. Our two seats being rather close to the back, we had easy and quick access to the galley. Galley, by the way, is the kitchen section on an aircraft. I took some time to figure it out when I first heard the word, for the diet of medieval adventure fiction in my childhood brought to my mind the low, narrow ships rowed by slaves. Our seats were close to the toilet too (you have to take the rough with the smooth) but not so close as to be smelly or have people perch on our shoulders like Sinbad the sailor to take brief bouts of rest as they queued up to go there.At some point, it became very cold. VK, in his warm coat, was fine, while I wrapped the blanket around me. I still managed an enviable string of sneezes, much to the alarm of co-passengers seated close by, even in those healthy, pre-Covid times. If it were now, the plane would have emptied itself through the emergency doors.One of the ways in which VK occupies himself while on an aircraft is to get a window seat and literally watch the world go by. But that didn’t quite happen on the flight to Dubai. The early part was when it was still dark; so he, like everyone else on board, slept off, or at least tried to. When he woke up, he was not allowed to raise the shade. It was bright outside but most of the passengers were still asleep. Even the movie addicts seemed to have switched off their screens and were slumbering in positions their waking selves would have been embarrassed by.I used the loo, but just as VK got ready to do so, the ‘fasten your seatbelts’ sign came on. An hour and a half remained of the journey to Dubai, but it did not change. And thus, we reached Dubai airport. We had to set our watches back by an hour and a half, and that was the beginning of this constant fiddling with our watches during the whole duration of our trip to the U.S., what with all those confusing time zones.Dubai international airport was a shopping mall disguised as an airport. ‘It’s “Do buy” not “Dubai”’, my nephew had once quipped, and the pun wasn’t far off the mark. Hundreds of passengers yawned their way through the concourses, dragging suitcases and bags, and trying not to crash into branded exhibits with price tags that would have made our eyes roll if we hadn’t been trying hard to keep them open. Dubai was the hub a lot of spokes connected to, and it looked like a lot of spokes were arriving in this hub in the morning.