Horrors of Air Deccan
As I stepped into a transit bus that was filled with end-of-day armpits, I noticed one of Air Deccan's employees hopping in - in an almost matter-of-fact manner, he announced a delayed departure owing to a "technical snag". The words were rehearsed - in the same monotonous tone spiked with abrupt pauses and practiced enthusiasm that flight crew members use to demonstrate how oxygen masks would plop and seats would become boats when a plane ride is doomed. "Tum log Air Dakkan ho not Air Deccan!!", shouted a disgruntled passenger who traveled with a wife who constantly adjusted her saree or wiped mucus off her screaming kid. You guys are not Air Deccan but Air Dakkan (loosely empty head).
A few months ago, the newspapers heralded India's low cost airline as the second largest flier in India. And a few months before, the airline IPO-ed in the Indian stock market amidst much fanfare (the usual) and angst (of journalists who had been passengers). Having avoided flying the airline for a whole year, I was more curious than penny-wise when I booked a Chennai-Mumbai ticket last week. On more than one...nah...four occasions, I've noticed a mob outside the Air Deccan gate at the terminal - passengers thronging over each other, screaming and threatening the company's employee(s) with the choicest abuses. Usually, a singled and sweating employee defended the supposed snag to the angry crowd that also fought amongst itself. I've seen similar sights in India - mostly in train/bus stations or just when an accident occurred. Viewing the depressing scene of Air Deccan's counter with fiery passengers and fear-filled staff, I always waggled my head (silently - the Indian way) in disbelief and empathy for the entrepreneur, Capt. Gopinath who built the company from zero and ran an entity that today seemed to value neither its passengers nor its employees - at least on the face of it.
I chatted up a staff member on what a technical snag really meant because it seemed to occur more often than not only for Air Deccan by some devilish interference. Wiping his sweat with his discolored hand kerchief, he told me that most of their planes had problems, their operations were ill-managed and he was forced to report whatever was told to him. Reflecting on my life's misdeeds, I looked on at the snag-riddled plane that seemed like Yama's tube to infinity. As the delay trotted from 45 minutes to 75 minutes to 125 minutes to 180 minutes...a guard at the security check whispered in what might well have been a gleeful but subdued cheer, "Yeh flight tho cancel ho ne wala hai!" This flight is going to be canceled. Trusting his wisdom-filled analysis more than Air Deccan's own, I canceled my tickets quickly and booked myself as the last passenger on the grand-daddy of Indian aviation, Indian Airlines. Within five minutes, it was Deja Vu - the passengers mobbed the Air Deccan staff member who was assigned the brave task of canceling passenger tickets - a thin, petite girl whose eyes were a combination of frustration, disgust and fear. Rolling her shoulders underneath her well-used white shirt with the embroidered company logo, she appealed in her quivering voice, "Sir, please sir...please bear with us...our website is also slow."
A few months ago, the newspapers heralded India's low cost airline as the second largest flier in India. And a few months before, the airline IPO-ed in the Indian stock market amidst much fanfare (the usual) and angst (of journalists who had been passengers). Having avoided flying the airline for a whole year, I was more curious than penny-wise when I booked a Chennai-Mumbai ticket last week. On more than one...nah...four occasions, I've noticed a mob outside the Air Deccan gate at the terminal - passengers thronging over each other, screaming and threatening the company's employee(s) with the choicest abuses. Usually, a singled and sweating employee defended the supposed snag to the angry crowd that also fought amongst itself. I've seen similar sights in India - mostly in train/bus stations or just when an accident occurred. Viewing the depressing scene of Air Deccan's counter with fiery passengers and fear-filled staff, I always waggled my head (silently - the Indian way) in disbelief and empathy for the entrepreneur, Capt. Gopinath who built the company from zero and ran an entity that today seemed to value neither its passengers nor its employees - at least on the face of it.
I chatted up a staff member on what a technical snag really meant because it seemed to occur more often than not only for Air Deccan by some devilish interference. Wiping his sweat with his discolored hand kerchief, he told me that most of their planes had problems, their operations were ill-managed and he was forced to report whatever was told to him. Reflecting on my life's misdeeds, I looked on at the snag-riddled plane that seemed like Yama's tube to infinity. As the delay trotted from 45 minutes to 75 minutes to 125 minutes to 180 minutes...a guard at the security check whispered in what might well have been a gleeful but subdued cheer, "Yeh flight tho cancel ho ne wala hai!" This flight is going to be canceled. Trusting his wisdom-filled analysis more than Air Deccan's own, I canceled my tickets quickly and booked myself as the last passenger on the grand-daddy of Indian aviation, Indian Airlines. Within five minutes, it was Deja Vu - the passengers mobbed the Air Deccan staff member who was assigned the brave task of canceling passenger tickets - a thin, petite girl whose eyes were a combination of frustration, disgust and fear. Rolling her shoulders underneath her well-used white shirt with the embroidered company logo, she appealed in her quivering voice, "Sir, please sir...please bear with us...our website is also slow."
posted by pravs at 3:52 AM
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