Unable to find a vacant seat I took heart in standing by a pillar and gazing at the bustling humanity. They were in all variables and varieties, drawn randomly from a million backgrounds; businessmen, couples, families, large families, etc. But the one particularly noticeable were young lone twenty somethings fiddling with their laptops, who were seriously typing something between gazing intently at their monitor. Generally they presented a demeanor of elite solemnity as if they were just about to solve the Fermat theorem on their laptop while waiting for a delayed flight. As if they didn’t appear restless enough already, many of them very frequently fiddled about their mobile phones, calling up or typing messages endlessly. I slowly counted all the visible laptops; nineteen. I realized that I hadn’t seen so many people use their notebooks in any other airport before, not even at Heathrow. And this was only an overcrowded domestic terminal somewhere in southern India. But, this was Bangalore. This was the software factory of the world.
The transformation of Bangalore into the software hub and its collaterals has been so instantaneous that there hasn’t even been a chance to document it. Unlike Japan, Singapore and other Asian tales where growth was pursued, planned and structured over a period of time, Bangalore’s fate changed almost in no time-dramatically, passively, uncontollably. If you remember the chronological graph from the science textbook depicting the entire human history in a span of twenty four hours, with the wheel being invented at 2200, steam engine at 23 45 etc, you could say Bangalore changed from a sleepy Anglo-Indian town to a generation that found its calling before a keyboard in a billionth of a nanosecond at 2358. Nothing short of a miracle. One, whose controls lie in the breezy districts of California. In there lies the problem; the growth was needed, wanted, relished but it wasn’t controlled. It seemed,neither the managements in Bangalore nor the local political system maintained any hold in the direction or the rate of development. Like most other things in India, it was left to take its own course.
Now, as I looked at the sea of passengers waiting for the plane, I imagined how the place would have looked twenty years before. Perhaps a cowshed or a cottage industry or such other equally desololate place where people wouldn’t have ventured even if they were paid for it. Look at it now, there wasn’t even enough space to sit down.
A few flights were taking off clearing the populations in the waiting room. I saw my Delhi flight scheduled to depart in forty minutes. But the flight hadn’t even arrived. As I waited more souls were boarded on to different destinations in large hordes and huddles that only the Indians are capable of. Soon I found a seat directly opposite the departure board hoping to get out of the boring place as soon as possible. Time went on, but nothing happened. Even with fifteen minutes left for the departure there wasn’t any update or announcement about my flight. Sensing something amiss, I tried to locate my airline assistance, and when I eventually did locate in what could only be a deliberately concealed corner, I found no one to man it. Not knowing what to do next, I asked an airport janitor who was whistling to himself in the corner not expecting much from him , but he told me that my plane should have boarded centuries ago, and suggested that I rather go to a particular boarding gate at the corner. Anxious by now I presented at the gate before a middle-aged undeniably mallu looking airline staff who broke the news to me that the boarding was announced 30 minutes before and most of the passengers were on board. Taken by surprise, I tried explaining to him that neither any announcements were made nor the departure board displayed any information about boarding. He didn’t bother to care much but went on in his unmistakable accent –”I donnknno, the bllane’s borded, we are waiiding for thri mor pbeeepbul”. Had he not looked so stressed out I would have kindly taken him to the departure board and pointed the stuck display, but realizing its futility in the grand chaos I decided to board. As I passed through the gate, I wondered about how so many passengers had known when to get in and more curiously the fate of the unboarded passengers who were oblivious of it all and the possible shock they were due for while boarding, if they managed to board that is. Professional accountability has still a long way to go in India to even remotely match its apparent growth. It was amusing as alarming as to how the chap who was responsible for boarding had absolved his responsibility by declaring he didn’t know. I climbed on hoping it was just an one-off event on an unexpectedly busy day.
As I entered the plane, I was welcomed by a hostess who had applied so much lipstick that it was spilling onto her chin. Well no, I cant be sure if she hadn’t actually touched up her chin as well. I asked her about the seat and she replied all free seats twice in a freaky tone, pointing me towards the inside of plane. I looked around and to my surprise found the whole plane packed full of people. I was explained that free seat meant you pop into the plane and occupy the seat you like on that particular day. But seemingly with the whole carnival on board I wondered if they would make me stand by a pillar near the cabin and take off. After much search, I finally found a seat between an obese pan-chewing gujurati and guess what, a guy fiddling with his laptop.
Given what all had happened the next two hours could be best put as uneventful. I later learnt that no announcement was made either through the passenger address system or departure board but people just kept an careful eye on the arriving planes and hopped in to get their favourite seat for themselves and their families. All for a 90-minutes journey during a growing night. That explained the hustle and hordes. Wondering about the ways of the world, I recorded the whole ordeal on the travelbook, and caught a quick nap just before arriving in Delhi.
Delhi was hot even for that hour of the day, but I didn’t mind, I felt quite relieved to escape the chattery carnival, but as soon as I stepped out of Cargo terminus I realized I had walked into another massive one. There were taxi drivers, passengers, families, large families, very large families, vendors, policemen, helpers, confused American tourists, staff and everyone you can possibly imagine in the universe here. The place was a mess, disorganised, badly managed and not even half as tidy as Bangalore. The first thought that crossed my mind was what the hell is going on here?
