The Directorate General of Civil Aviation has directed that only vegetarian meals will be served on all Air India flights. Other airlines flying domestic routes in India have also been instructed to ensure the availability of Hindi newspapers on board.
We are on board Air India AI 430 on the long 3-hour haul from Chennai to New Delhi. The flight is on cruise control and the seat belt signs have been switched off. After the usual clamour of passengers rushing out of their seats to get to the loo (why don’t they ever visit the airport toilets?), air hostesses being summoned for drinking water, ear plugs, sick bags and so on, things settle down and the hostesses commence their strut across the aisle distributing newspapers.
Mr. Sitaraman (Banker): ‘What is this, a Hindi newspaper? I can’t read Hindi. Please give me an English newspaper’.
Hostess: ‘Sorry Sir, we ran out of English papers after the 7th row. When one of them finishes reading, I can pass it on to you’.
Mr. Sitaraman: ‘Why only Hindi papers? Why not Tamil? After all, this flight took off in Chennai and there must be many Tamilians on board’.
Hostess: ‘I am sorry Sir, but I can’t answer that question. I will give you a complaint form and you can fill it up and we will pass it on to the authorities’.
Mr. Sitaraman: ‘That’s all you people are good for – handing out complaint forms. Yes, kindly give it to me. I am going to fill up the sheets in closely spaced Tamil, and your babus in Delhi can have the time of their lives having it decoded’.
Ms. Deepti Sharma (Delhi Socialite): ‘Excuse me, may I have the latest copy of Vogue please. I saw someone reading it up front’.
Hostess: ‘Sorry Madam, but that is a personal copy of the passenger. But I can offer you this week’s issue of Ananda Vikatan’.
Ms. Deepti Sharma: ‘How much?’
Hostess: ‘It’s a Tamil family magazine madam. Very popular’.
Ms. Deepti Sharma: ‘Guess I’ll then have to sit next to Mr. Sitaraman for translation. Ha, ha. Kindly vamoose’.
Bunty Singh (precocious 5 year old): ‘Mummy, mummy please ask Hostess aunty to get me Ramayana comic book’.
Mummy: ‘Bunty beta, don’t be tiresome. You know what happened last time when we flew to Kolkata. The hostess gave you a Bengali version of Chandamama, and you vomited all over it. I can’t let you do that to the Ramayana, even if it is in Tamil’.
Bunty: ‘But Mummy, I know many Tamil words. Masala dosa, idli vada sambar, dey macchhi. See?’
Mummy: ‘Offo Bunty, chhup kar please. I am going to give you a tight one, haan! Ok, ok, don’t cry. They will be serving lunch now’.
After an hour or so into the flight, the public address system crackles into life and a disembodied voice of one of the air hostesses requests all passengers to get back to their seats and keep their seat belts fastened as lunch is about to be served. Of course, the announcement is made bilingually in English and Hindi, but given the hostess’ pronunciation, both sound exactly the same.
It is now time for the lunch trolleys to be precariously wheeled down the aisle and the cumbersome process of serving the meals commences.
Mr. Doug Schoonmaker (visiting American businessman): ‘Say lady, d’ya think you can rustle up some corn on the cob, with some chicken fritters and potato chips on the side? And a large can of Coke to wash it down?’
Hostess: ‘Sorry Sir, we have only fixed meals. And only vegetarian. For drinks, lassi (sweet and salted), mango juice or mineral water’.
Mr. Schoonmaker: ‘What was that again? Vegetarian? You gotta be kidding me. It’s not as if I wanted a beefsteak, lady. I know you’re sensitive to that sort of thing in India. I only wanted chicken, for crying out loud. Back in the States, chicken is vegetarian. Anyway, since I am famished what do you have by way of vegetarian?’
Hostess: ‘Sir, you can either have aloo parantha with dal makhani, or curd rice with beans poriyal and lime pickle, which is a refreshing south Indian delicacy’.
Mr. Schoonmaker: ‘I think I am going to faint. Please get me some smelling salts, if you know what that is.’
Mrs. Shanta Rajagopalan (housewife travelling with her husband): ‘I am very happy they are now serving only vegetarian food. Last time, they mixed up my order and when I opened my box, ayyayyo! Siva, Siva, kandraavi (horrible)! My stomach was churning. I couldn’t even eat the vegetarian meal after that. When we landed in Chennai, I went straight home and had my snaanam (bath), and ate my meal only after naivedyam (consecrated food)’.
Mr. Rajagopalan:‘I just can’t stand this paneer they shove in everything. Anyhow, thank God you are happy, Shanta. Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it’.
Senior pilot in the cockpit (to the hostess): ‘Hey Sushma, did you smuggle in my lunch?’
Assistant navigation pilot: ‘And mine as well, Sush’.
Sushma: ‘Why, don’t you like curd rice with lime pickle? Ok baba, you don’t have to retch and dry-heave like that. And watch the cabin pressure. Here’s your chicken biriyani with mutton salan on the side. You owe me one, guys. My job could be on the line’.
Both the pilots: ‘You’re a real sweetheart, Sushy’.
The Maharaja (the airline’s mascot): ‘I don’t think J.R.D.Tata and Bobby Kooka, proud Parsees and Indians both, had this kind of cuisine and service in mind when they created me’.
(The author is a brand consultant with interest in music, cricket and good humour)
