LIFESTYLE

OH TO BE A PARENT! (#ihaveaticketdontshutthedoor#)

After months of preparation, getting together papers, getting the visa done, getting information about travel insurance, travel currency cards and International SIMs, the day finally dawned when my son, Toshan , was supposed to fly to Tel Aviv University in Israel, to do a course in Cyber Security in his Summer Semester break. And we decided to see him off at the Delhi airport.

It was the thirteenth of the month. My superstitious Indian soul reared up its head.

Thank god, it was not a Friday…and hey, come on, You have come a long way from that, argued my twenty year old , liberal fauji atma.

And then, just as we were wheeling all the luggage out, with the cab waiting downstairs, the handle of the overhead hand baggage just came off. Putting on a calm countenance on top of a pounding heart, we figured we will just need to transfer the contents of this bag into another alternative.

Spelling error in VISA

Multicurrency card issued on penultimate day

FedEx shipment of the transcript carried delivery address errors

I dare not look into my son’s eyes, because my eyes were screaming….so many signs!

As the cab sped towards the airport, all those last minute advice were thrown…

Find a VISA ATM, get your money out…

Don’t ask directions of the ATM from a stranger, only airport crew

Mind your passport

Don’t take your eyes off your baggage, you never know when anyone will smuggle in something

Get a cab from the taxi stand outside Ben gurion airport, don’t entertain touts…

I wouldn’t want to be in my sons shoes that day. I would be so confused with so many instructions.

At the gate of the airport, my manly boy hugged his father and got hugged by me. Sonny enjoy yourself, my heart said, as Toshan walked into the airport lounge. I sighed in relief. Atlast all our preparations were paying off. We decided to wait for an hour. Maybe because its not everyday that my son catches an international flight to Tel Aviv. We swelted in the searing heat, then explored the overhead bridge to the parking lot, found a clean and cool café to wait in and then decided to head home. Ten minutes in the car and a phonecall comes from Toshan. His Delhi to Mumbai Flight has been delayed by 15 minutes. Only 15 minutes, big deal, I thought. I catch my husbands eyes. “He will not make it,” he said, quietly.

All my panic buttons being pressed, I started calculating. Goodness, I realized having done the tickets through Makemytrip.com from Delhi to Mumbai and from Mumbai to Tel Aviv, there was only a gap of two and a half hours. His flight would land at Mumbai airport at 8.25 pm and El Israel flight would take off at 11pm. And you are supposed to check in for an International Flight 3 hours before. Half an hours delay would make him reach Mumbai at 9pm. Collecting baggage would take another 30 minutes. Finding the way in a new airport from Arrivals to Departure would probably take another half an hour. He will definitely not make it.

But I thought you had put him on a hopping flight, so his baggage collection time would not be there.

Your friend told me the waiting period between two flights can be painful if its more than two and a half hours.

This is an international flight.

It’s the fault of makemytrip. They should be sued. How can they leave a narrow margin like this.

File a complaint as soon as you can.

That’s all fine.

But now what do we do.

We need to get in touch with some airport authorities to help him.

But will he make it?

And all this while, blissfully unaware (or was he?) of the situation he was in, my son would have been watching a movie on his laptop, en flight, I was sure.

On reaching home, we first called up a helpline number of Mumbai Airport. A manicured, unperturbed voice said we had nothing to worry about. Notwithstanding, we decided to track his flight. There were two sites. One showed what we hoped, that the flight would make up the delay in time and would land at 8.25pm. Another showed what we dreaded, the plane going painfully slowly on a plotted trajectory. All I could do was shut my eyes and hope my prayers were fast tracked to the powers that be. At exactly 8.25pm, the hopeful site revised arrival time to 9.04pm, dashing our short lived hope. We had to react, take the power in our hands and be proactive now.

Surfing at lightning speed, we zeroed down in on the el Israeli helpline at Mumbai airport. After hearing us out, the counter people countered, our son should make it by 10pm. But will he?, we wondered. At 9.15 when my son landed, we asked him to get in touch with the airlines. With his baggage nowhere in sight he was told to reach the counter within 15 minutes.

Mamma, I will not make it.

This mother and father are made of sterner stuff. Operation Toshan was in full steam now. The airlines counter people would have been cursing us that night, as we hollered over the phone, “Send your staff to conveyer belt 6. Our son has arrived by Air India and he needs help to expediate his journey from Arrival to Departure in fifteen minutes.” At just 5 minutes to ten, Toshan checked in. We heaved a sigh of relief. Come what may, now he is now care /of the Airlines. They will surely put him on flight.

But no, for us the ordeal was not over just then.

The immigration line is long.

Jump the queue, tell people you have a flight to catch in half an hour.

I am near the gate, and put on standby with five others.

Standby? Whats that?

Another call to airlines people. Why is he not on board?

Don’t worry sir. Your son is at the gate. He has not been allotted seat yet.

Papa, I am on board, but no seat.

WHAT?

Visions of Toshan standing for seven hours of flight time and then falling asleep on the aisle do the rounds.

Got a seat. Seated.

Its 11.05pm.

Have you eaten anything.

Yes, some snacks on flight from Delhi.

Tell the airhostess to wake you up when she serves food……………

And we spent the whole night tracking his flight from India to Israel, taking a detour around Saudi Arabia, flying over the Red Sea and atlast into Ben Gurion Airport.

Oh to be a parent!