Chilling out at airports, the new happening places
by
Ramesh Kumar |
Ramesh Kumar lazes around in Mumbai airport to find its new charms
There was a time I used to suffer in silence waiting endlessly at airports for my flight to be announced. Today, I ungrudgingly spend time, thanks to the slew of diversions that can keep waiting passengers – like me – endlessly occupied. Airports, like my friend Tirtha Ghosh, claims are “happening places”. No longer the dull, dour and sleep-inducing cattle-sheds once they used to be.
Let me begin with the entry into the airports – irrespective of which country one is in. The feeling is one of déjà vu. It’s like entering a hyper-mall. Well ventilated, well-lit and “well”ness written all over. And a host of eye-catchy hoardings. Believe it or not, I like the concept of ‘hidden persuaders”: well, that is what I call the advertising campaigns are all about, a cue word that I had picked up from sci-fi writer J B Ballard several years ago. For instance, early this week I was at Mumbai airport. Though my flight was at six in the evening, I had landed up at the terminal four hours in advance – just to beat the road traffic and ensure that I did not miss my flight to Delhi, my home base. No sooner did I complete the check-in formalities, I headed for the washroom. The new airport is a class act, I must confess. Long lobbies with comfortable chairs, strategically located gigantic TV sets showing news and departure schedules.
Having found a corner seat next to the GSM/mobile phone charger pod, I plumped. The only thing missing was piped music. Otherwise it was heavenly. Not too much crowd. The ambience was soothing, lulling one into a pleasant stupor. Meanwhile, my better half walked in with two hot cuppas and an almond cake. First things, first. I loaded my phone into the recharger pod before began sipping Nescafe and biting into almond cake.
While the better half was busy watching news channels and occasionally glancing at the departure schedule screens, I picked up half a dozen freely distributed mint-fresh dailies lying all around to engage my time fruitfully. Every paper has a front page byline of my erstwhile colleagues who continue to work in the commercial capital of India. Needless to say, I read them and made a mental note to trace them once back in Delhi and tell them that I read their ‘magnum opus’. It is no secret that pen-pushers – including me – need constant feedback from readers irrespective of years we have put in. The joy of hearing someone talking about our ‘pieces’ is immeasurable. Before I could complete two dailies, wife lost interest in news and nudged me to move to another area. Several passengers who were early-arrivals like me were sprawled before TV sets en route to our new destination: another area. There were shops selling all kinds of stuff: expensive, no doubt. If you have time to kill and even if you don’t have sufficient money in your kitty, no harm. You can always window shop.
The departure hall was crowded with several flights to depart soon to various destinations: Delhi, Kolkata, Chennai, Hyderabad, Guwahati, Jaipur, Bengaluru, Cochin etc. Constant announcements of flights about to take off and hassled ground staff of various airlines running helter skelter beseeching unknown sleepy passengers of the impending departure of their flights.
I looked around to see a walk-in bookstall with a big crowd. People of all age groups were busy browsing magazines, paperbacks and simply ogling at the well arranged bookshelves. Kids in oversized trunks – or is it fashion? – and collar-less but colourful graffiti-laden T shirts were busy flipping through Tom & Jerry and TinTin comic books. The counter clerk was half asleep. If somewhere to walk away with a magazine or book, no way he can detect such lapses. But the trust factor ought to have been playing on his mind. The coffee shop next to the book shop was more crowded with disinterested air-hostesses in their official uniforms milling around with half-sipped coffee mugs in hand and talking into handsets to someone known to them. I found a long queue outside the foot massage shop, waiting to be pampered.
By the time, my flight was announced, I picked up a fresh set of six dailies, a plate of samosa and a large chilled water bottle to keep me engaged on the 110-minute flight to Delhi. It seldom seemed that I had spent four hours inside the airport. I did not mind. I won’t. Airports are truly happening places where I wish to chill out.
Oman Tribune |
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