I am on yet another
pressurized metal tube flying at a very high speed at more than five kilometers
above the earth’s surface. This time the winged tube in which I am sitting is
an Indian one, the earth that is below is the sub-continent of India - and
mercifully I have no one seated next to me. I am on a domestic flight from
Delhi to the city of Chennai where I will spend the next two days attending
frenetic meetings at our expansive and rapidly expanding office.
I was very fortunate to make
my flight on time. I am often just-in-time for my flights as I dislike waiting
in airport lounges and I tend to generally time the drive to airports to
check-in, walk at a brisk face to the departure gate and then board the plane with
just minutes to go before they take off. I have missed quite a few flights with
this methodology but I don’t really mind.
There is always a next one or better still I return to the luxurious comfort of my Company paid five star hotel and wait until the next day.
There is always a next one or better still I return to the luxurious comfort of my Company paid five star hotel and wait until the next day.
Meetings are made to be
delayed or cancelled and I have so many of them nowadays that missing a few
doesn’t seem to really matter.
My very frequent travel and
Australian passport has made me eligible for something known as an APEC card. I
can’t even recall what this acronym stands for but it gives me pre-arranged
visas for more than fifteen different countries. More significantly it allows
me to use the Diplomatic Immigration lines on arrival and departure. I can
therefore avoid the abominations of long and often painstaking queues.
I dislike both waiting and queuing
In equal parts.
I dislike both waiting and queuing
In equal parts.
Unfortunately India is not
one of those countries where my APAC card is recognised however I use my gall
and White Anglo Saxonism to use the Diplomatic or VIP lanes anyway. I quite
often flash my Singapore National Library card at bemused Indian Officialdom
and they just wave me through.
I cut it very fine indeed though
getting to the Delhi International airport this evening. After a full day of
mindless and energy sapping meetings I went back to my hotel and showered and
changed before checking out. In my schedule I had allowed 15 minutes for the
traditional review and argument over the hotel bill.
India has more taxes than
most nations. There are four types of taxes that are imposed on international
guests at hotels including the recently introduced ‘luxury hotel’ tax of 7%. I
don’t really mind these as my Employer picks up the tab and I get to keep the
Frequent Flyer miles that are earned on my Gold Corporate American Express
Card. Quite often though in India there is an inclination to slip in Room
Service charges for meals not taken or secretarial fees for secretaries never
seen.
Once my bill was scrutinized,
argued over, amended and ultimately paid - I jumped into the awaiting hotel limousine
and we plundered our way into Delhi peak hour traffic. With a population of
more than twenty million people, the peak hour in Delhi is more peaked than in most
cities. No problem, I had allowed for this as well. However within sight of
terminal three of the airport our progress was thwarted by a herd of meandering
buffalo that had wandered onto the roadway. Although this is common in Delhi
and in most cities of India I cursed myself for not factoring in a
roaming-buffalo-delay into my very tight timetable. Traffic had come to a
complete halt and the air echoed with the deafening din of horns blasting from
aggrieved motorists. The buffalo were unmoved – both figuratively and
literally.
I demanded that my driver get
out of the car and shoot the beasts but he muttered something about holy
animals and refused - so I was forced to shoot him and make the last leg of the
journey on foot. I arrived at the airport with only minutes to spare and
flashing my Singapore National Library card at every Uniformed Officer that I
encountered and tried to stop me I managed to board the plane just before the
doors were closed and sealed.
So I sit here now on the
plane writing this. As I have already mentioned the seat next to me is
mercifully empty. I say mercifully as I am in no mood for casual conversations.
Business class on the domestic flight that I am on is only two rows deep and
the only other occupants in the section are two squirrel-looking middle-aged European
women who are seated directly in front of me, and an Indian lady to my right.
I suspect that the European
women are Evangelists of some description. They have both the air and the dress
of such beings and I have seen their type many times before in this country - and
quite often on this leg between Delhi and Chennai. There must be some sort of
Christian missionary centre there that has been established in an optimistic
but inevitably doomed crusade of converting more than one billion Hindis to a
different path. The squirrel women could well be Jesuits.
One of the women keeps
turning around endeavouring to make eye contact and start a conversation with
me but I am refusing to look up. I have also put on my BOSE headphones to
prevent even hearing what she might have to say.
What sort of charitable
Christian movement would allow for travel on Business class anyway? These
missionaries should be seated at the rear of the plane where they could at
least try their conversions on the working classes. Their parishioners should
be outraged at such a lavish extravagance. I may surreptitiously take their
photographs whilst we are disembarking the plane and send a letter of complaint
together with their images to the Pope.
I will in fact.
Whilst I normally enjoy
talking with strangers, engaging with such zealots is sometimes a little disconcerting
for me. I think that their devout Christian eyes can often see right through me
and into the blackness of my soul. Without doubt these squirrel woman would be
able to determine that I have only today committed countless acts that in their
view would be considered sinful – including the demand that I made of my driver
that he shoot the holy roaming buffalo and the slightly lesser sin of shooting
him when he refused.
I am going to feign sleep
now.
Tomorrow is another day and I have more meetings to attend and more sins to commit.
Tomorrow is another day and I have more meetings to attend and more sins to commit.
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