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Fly in India
India
A Pilot's Perspective of India
MUMBAI HOTEL WORK THE FLYING AN OVERNIGHT
         

Well where to begin. This place is OTT! The colours, smells tastes and visions are extreme.

The real estate is more expensive than Manhattan, some of the most valuable on the planet, so every inch is used to the max none more so than tarmac.

It can take two hours to get home from work in rush hours which seems to be almost all day. Picture a major road all dug up with absolutely no lanes but occupied by ten lines of traffic: motor bikes, bikes, auto rickshaws, hand carts, trucks, buses, cows, horse drawn carts and the odd very nimble pedestrian all moving at about ten kilometers per hour and alongside endless markets or little businesses selling things, cooking things, making things and amongst the mayhem street urchin beggar children and thin as rakes Mums with babes on their hips who tap incessantly on the car window and make repeated hand to mouth signs which are designed to have the maximum pull on your heart strings. I had decided that I was going to give to the urchin beggars 2 Rupees each and 100 per day well that didn't work they were like wild creatures fighting over carrion. Left with a sense of despair and that effort to placate my niggly conscience was a dismal failure. My new strategy is to hand biscuits out the window - sort of a Robin Hood thing. We'll see.

There are thousands and thousands of cabs, black and yellow, 1950's things and one hundred thousand autorickshaws, like tuk tuks, only all painted black and yellow that swarm like wasps.

Have been to the beach a couple of times and this is what I saw:

Maelstrom of Humanity
Color saturated
Promenade
Rabid monkeys
Break dance Hip hop
Fun and Laughter
Precision knife sharpening
Tenacious hawkers
Flutes Saxophones
Nuts
Sequined bags with bells on
Pan Flutes and Candy Floss
Slithering snakes and henna coloured hands

and wondered amongst the kites and magicians and a Bollywood movie in the making complete with wannabe movie stars.

Juhu Beach is where India greets the Arabian Sea and the boundary is delineated by Johnnie Walker bottles reincarnated as kaleidoscopes of colour.

Mumbai is in a state of “WORK IN PROGRESS”. It seems that every square inch is being dug up, sifted, relocated and the shifting, sifting tools are picks, shovels, brooms and barrows.

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I live in a hotel between 1 and 2 hours (depends on traffic and mode of transport) from the downtown part and not too far as the crow (there are lots of crows) flies from the airport.

The hotel is amazing.

2 pools, tennis court, the best gym I have ever seen complete with jacuzzi, steam room, massage after a long day in the office, table tennis, pool tables and a view over the Lake (one of the ten most polluted in India). Tennis court comes complete with coach and the most amazing breakfasts which seem to last a couple of hours each day with fresh vegetable juices. Today was a beetroot, carrot and ginger cocktail the colour of raspberry and bulls blood. It will stain for life.

Nothing is a problem. Laundry is filling a form and pressing the appropriate button on the phone. Shoes are cleaned, bags carried, doors opened, driven to work and back. It is brutal.

There are a lot of pilots here. Mostly Europeans from Austria, Italy, Denmark, Poland, Greece and some Asian pilots.

Some scribbling follows to give you an idea:

Room 305 (home for a while) is compact
2 TVs and 4 Telephones
The view is of treetops
Lots of trees
In this part of town

Birds
Huge Eagles
Circling for prey
Green parrots
and lots and lots of crows

The Breakfast patio is fountained
Sounds of water rushing
If one closes ones eyes

An eclectic
Selected
Population
Privileged
And waited
Upon

Watched by Mr and Mrs Eagle
Their lair in the tree above the breakfast patio

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First day was like the first day of school.

Hope my uniform is OK and my haircut's the same as the other kids
What if I haven't got all the right stationery?

“Please stand here” the company tailor takes my dimensions as other pilots take my dimensions. English and Austrians and Germans.

A visit to stores and quickly furnished with the essentials of my profession belts, shoes, epaulets, wings, shirts, tiepins. All the cool stuff then off to for a cup of tea, a chat about the cricket. John Wright was OK but Greg Chappell I don't know he is Australian after all. I politely agree and mention that Sachin Tendulcher is the greatest batsman the planet has seen and everyone is happy.

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There is some fat in most sector times and not too difficult to stay on time with not much wind to pay havoc with the flight time but ATC seem to like some serious vectoring often down low. They speak very fast.

Turnarounds are generally and never less than thirty minutes. During this time a small army descend upon the aircraft. The cleaning gang come in through the cargo hold and transform the cabin to a state of orderliness.

My check to line went like this. Swamped with paper work and procedures. Banglaore to Chennai (Madras) the ILS and “nice landing Captain”. Hotel mode, 35 degrees, a light tailwind, hooked to a pushback tractor then you guessed it NACELLE OVERHEAT, Shutdown.

Tower control the tarmac. “No you can't pushback”! “STANDBYE”! 50 degrees in the cabin. No recircs cos battery cart. No we can't start with the propbrake off cos we can't push back with spinning propeller. Oh well. “Bing Bong would you like a cold towel and a cup of tea Captain” “What a damn fine idea, thank you”.

Another day familed to Mangalore on the Arabian Sea. An experience to see a sharp Indian crew fly. They are very precise.

Today I saw a cloud. Every day in Mumbai has been the same clear of clouds hot and smoggy so very pleased to have a change. Bangalore, where I started the day is 3000 feet AMSL and nice and cool and lots of trees and wide streets. This is both good and bad as the traffic is lighter but faster. We came within mm of righting off a Tuk Tuk on the way to work and tonight in a beautiful black Mercedes as the driver was regaling me with stories of fifteen years of accident free driving he bravely took on an Indian bus which are built like tanks. We didn't win.

From Bangalore, sort of in the middle but slightly towards the bottom of the upside down triangle, we flew to Cochin on the coast, South of Goa, and then across the sub C to Chennai which you may know as Madras (that's on the East Coast butting up to the Bay of Bengal). I am overnighting here then doing the same in reverse tomorrow then wandering home in the avo Club class in a B737.

Really enjoy the flying. The F/Os are very competent. Though they may have less than 500 hours flying time they do mountains of famils to get the procedures, checklists, callouts sorted and their trainers are incredibly demanding of them. Very procedural with absolute mountains of paperwork.

(“The rest of the world airplanes run on Jet fuel in India they run on paper”).

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Am not going to see much of Chennai as it is now dark and I get up at 0415 tomorrow. Outside the window, thankfully two panes worth, is the classic Indian intersection. A cacophony of tooting! Somewhat of concern is a canoe parked on a roof across the road. Last week according to the Mercedes driver was the worst flooding in Chennai in 25 years (a week ago today but everything looks pretty normal here though there were some serious lakes as we flew in). Oh, the canoe on the roof is on the roof of a two story building!

This place has the most comfortable bed, big feather pillows and a lovely cotton duvet that is so soft and light.

A sheet of “Entitlements” on arrival:

Breakfast,
1000 Rupees for food,
Dry-cleaning of one set of clothes,
Luxury airport transfers,
Free local calls,
Free one hour internet,
4 soft drinks and
Imported French bottled water,
Free gym,
Free welcome drink, and
Four of the brightest shiny red apples.

Mumbai
Beneath a soft mantle of red dust
All that does not move will be enveloped
The beggar mothers and the street urchins
The dog that sleeps in the middle of the road

Cardboard cut out homes
Are shingles concealing the broken earth
In this Land of Tigers

The upside down triangle quivers with every sunrise
Relentless energy dissipated by
Layers
Of
humanity

Round and round the merry go round
Of Paper homes paper promises and paper blame
And amongst the mayhem I sleep soundly
On pillows soft as down
White starched sheets
And temperature controlled
Noise attenuated
Extravagance.

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