Somewhere above Laos. The old Boeing aircraft is groaning its way through the night. Business class is one empty seat between two cramped seats. An insipid dinner is over. A grim middle-aged stewardess with a bad haircut and goth lipstick appears holding a soiled-white bedsheet. A balding, pot-bellied steward joins her. Together, they drape it over the corridor to the cockpit. They tape it up. Soon, grainy, flickering images of Jeetendra and Mumtaz dancing appear. A passenger gets up to go to the bathroom. His shadow spreads over the sheet like a Wes Craven phantasm, grotesquely distorted in the projector’s beam. He ducks to lift the sheet and Jeetendra’s face is squashed like an emoticon in a nightmare. No, it isn’t Aeroflot. Welcome to movie time on Air India.
This may not be the multiplex experience on all Air India flights, especially on international routes. But it symbolises the airline’s shoddy weltanschauung. During the Monopoly Raj, the domestic flying experience was deplorable: bad food, rude employees, hostile flying staff and schedules indifferent to time. A minister, or even an MP could hold up a flight until he was ready to board. It felt government, smelt government, tasted government.
The entry of private airlines with superior service, prettier staff and competitive fares liberated the flyer from Air India’s shabby tyranny. It demystified socialist India’s awe of flying. When Gopinath introduced Air Deccan, the middle class Indian got a seat in the sky; and the national carrier’s cachet dissipated. Except for a few old timers who suffered from aerial Stockholm Syndrome; politicians and bureaucrats flying free with family members; airline staff and family on holidays and army officers on discounted fares, nobody flew Air India. But the staff couldn’t care less. The pilots couldn’t be bothered. The taxpayer, who they treated with contempt and indifference, would anyway pay their salaries.
In March 2009, Air India sold off planes to cushion a Rs 7,000 crore loss, though it didn’t stop buying new ones. Since 2009, the government has given the Maharaja a seat belt of `32 billion. In March 2012, Air India got a `67.5 billion ticket out of trouble. `43,777 crore of debt sits in the cockpit. It has lost more than Rs 20,000 crore in the last four years. A Centre for Asia Pacific Aviation (CAPA) report estimates AI’s projected loss as $1.3 billion. The Maharaja’s boarding pass on the new Dreamliner—the first of 27—is ready, but his arrogant pilots remain on strike. They, insist colleagues who formerly flew domestic routes, shouldn’t be allowed to fly the new planes. There can’t be a better example for caste in modern India. Meanwhile, Boeing sends home Air India pilots of Boeing 747s for being unfit to fly Dreamliners.
CAPA predicts Air India will shut down, since it is “operating an unviable business model that’s kept alive by the generosity of India’s tax payers.” The angry Indian, reeling under mounting taxation, would heartily endorse this. However, closing the airline may not be the solution. It is its legacy that needs to be grounded. Air India needs a new flight plan. Hire new pilots. Pack off most AI workers with VRS. Hire the presentable, pleasant and experienced airline staff with superior service skills that has been laid off by Kingfisher Airlines. Ban free air travel in business class for politicians, bureaucrats, airline staff and their families. Introduce competitive fares.
The Privy Purse was abolished in 1971. It is time the flying Maharaja makes a living by himself.
Ravi@newindianexpress.com