Day 1

It really doesn’t help anyone when both the international and domestic airports are called Chhtrapati Shivaji International Airport. So while some politicians have been listing “renamed airport” under list of achievements in their resume, I was struggling with figuring out which airport my flight was from. See, the challenge was that I was connecting in Chennai but I didn’t know if I was transferring to another aircraft or would remain in the same that would then go ahead to Colombo. After frantic calls 3 hours before my flight to travel agents and customer care and the like, I was relieved of my misery that it was the domestic airport after all.
Side note: What is wrong with the politicians? Was there only one noteworthy Maratha in all of our illustrious history? Our heritage doesn’t seem that illustrious or old if all we could produce over the MILLIONS of years was ONE great king, no? Perhaps the politicians should devoted more time scratching their heads than their balls when renaming everything in sight and we would have had a diversity of names to sport – Ahilbai Holkar, Vinoba Bhave , Lokmanaya Tilak do spring to mind fairly easily.
And we’re back.
I do love going to airports though. Everyone is in a jolly mood cos they are heading somewhere new and different – there’s a kind of happiness in the air. Although in Chennai, it was overshadowed by the thick scents of coconut oil and mogra flowers. It’s like the Ultimate Fighting Champion – each smell trying to overpower the other and neither really quite managing it.
Man, Chennai airport was crazy. I saw so many mogra garlands hanging off the women that I was convinced that Chennai women might single-handedly be supporting the entire mogra industry of India. They were like the stripes used to identify army ranks – if you are wearing mogra, you’re a woman and if you reek of coconut and jasmine oil, you must most definitely be a man.
Chennai people are just very aggressive in general. Lines at the airport are for reference purposes only. Inconsequential really. People just shoved their way around all over the place – jumping the line at customs, ignoring directions and straight up pushing you aside and moving to the front, even if they moved only one up. I would have liked to pick a bitch fight with more than one person there but I had my revenge, even if it was indirect. See, in all their shoving they forgot to fill out the paperwork properly and of course, government officials are more than happy to make you look stupid. Beats sticking my tongue out at them any day.
It also seemed like a lot of Bollywood had decided to travel today too. So, I met demure A.R. Rahma minus the 2 Oscars (I mean, the least he could do is carry the glory of India around for others to see, share a little man, geez!). Rahul Bose was there too, sporting a stubble the thickness of the African Prairie and then there was Diana Hayden who is still tall, fir and gorgeous and still thinks she is soooo much better than us. Well, she didn’t say it but I felt it. Prrbt, can she speak Hindi? I guess we’re even then.
The flights did not disappoint me by being thoroughly late. If flights in India start taking off on time, I think it would throw the whole industry off balance. Increased efficiency, accountability and punctuality? The idea!!
What did disappoint me was the immigration. It’s 2.30 am in the morning; the immigration form is ONE piece of paper. What did the customs dude think he was? The freaking FBI? The line did not move for 30 minutes. I kid you not. And, it’s not like there were beds for us to take a power nap while we waited for Sherlock ya know. Yea, the lack of beds is just an appalling oversight by the SL government.

In SL…excited what tomorrow will bring.