I’d been to the Bengaluru
International Airport two weeks back to pick up my sister who was flying down
to India to visit us. While waiting for her to finish the formalities and come
outside, I got to observe the different people at the airport. And it was
indeed very engaging.
The Airport… a place where you
can see many people, is quite insightful about how different people travel. From
the multifaceted crowd I got to observe, the ones who appealed to me the most
were the aircraft crew.
The pilots, stewards and the
stewardesses seemed to walk about the airport completely ignoring the security
guards as if they owned the place. Unlike the localites who seemed to have come
to the airport straight from their beds and eager to get back to them as soon
as possible, the aircraft crew would be decked up in crisply ironed uniforms as
if they were ready to go to a party even at 3 in the morning. The nippy weather
at 3am didn’t seem to bother them as they lugged along their miniature trolley
bags wearing their miniature skirts ;-). It is almost impossible to differentiate between the ones who arrive
after a long flight from the ones who depart to host another flight of passengers.
They all have the same stoic expression on their faces!
Another sort of people who caught
my attention were the ones who always seem to move about with an irresolute
look on their faces. Whether it was leaving their homes for a long time, or anxious
to sit through a crammed flight, or just the encumbrance of the unyielding airport
trolleys, these people definitely didn’t seem at ease.
Like all the others who were
fervently staring through the glass doors at the ARRIVALS section, I too spent
half an hour leaning on the metal railing trying to spot my sister emerge from
the crowd. Meanwhile, it looked as if one of the big hotels in Bengaluru was
accommodating a large group of foreigners arriving by the British Airways
flight from London (the same flight as my sister’s). The airport representative
for that hotel was certainly having a tough time as the guests were arriving
one by one but their chauffeurs had still not reached the airport with their
respective placards. Tensed as he was, to bear the brunt of the impatient foreigners,
he irately spoke into his cell phone to one of the chauffeurs…
“Yellidhira??”
…
“Innu Hebbal Flyover-mela??”
…
“illi guests aagle bandhidhare… bega chechkondu banni!”
As the chauffeur’s commotion began to subside, I finally saw my sister coming into sight pushing her trolley
towards the exit, putting an end to my restlessness and much to my parents’ delight.
I was glad to get away from the freezing outside weather and enter the warmth of my car.
