A refreshing distraction

tired commuters, but at least half the seats seemed taken by those who’d arrived midway through a party and appeared disappointed at their inability to buy themselves a couple of rounds. They appeared like a flash mob, glittering in their party clothes, a tad out of place amidst the rest of us in our crushed office-wear. For a moment, we paused to see if they were going to perform, some even hoped it might be a shooting of a film sequence, others stretched their necks hoping to catch sight of a Bollywood star, but ennui soon settled in.

The group of grumbling youngsters didn’t let the absence of alcoholic spirits dampen their enthusiasm for long. Perhaps they were tanked up enough; at any rate, the business lounge seemed a little less formal, a lot more congenial. A few of its inhabitants did tut-tut, this being their natural and, usually, silent habitat, but you can’t shush a group of youngsters bent on having themselves some fun. In any case, it was a mild distraction from reading Twinkle Khanna’s extremely putdownable book.

There’s another community of people who seem tailor-made for late-night flights. They look like bouncers but aren’t — I know because I sat surrounded by them. They all wore black like a uniform, Ts stretched tight over Vshaped torsos, tattoos peeking out from under their sleeved biceps and the napes of their necks, and they had their hair cut in so many ways as to boggle imagination. You’d expect them to be rough, but they all turned out to be gentle, with soft voices that, on questioning, revealed them to be part of a troupe of ‘extras’, who support the lead dancers at increasingly commonplace stage shows in Delhi and Mumbai.

Nor did the group of raucous youngsters stay quiet on the flight, causing their fellow passengers to act like party nannies. In good humour, they passed around ear-buds to those who complained, and even though the lights were dimmed in the cabin, you could hear them giggling, their resplendent party dresses turning the aisle into a catwalk as they frequented toilets fore and aft. “Didn’t you mind,” asked my wife, when I told her about it later. I don’t sleep easily on flights and with ‘Blimey’ Mrs Funnybones proving less than gripping, I’d enjoyed the diversion they offered. Besides, I had been informed that my son had a group of buddies over, so no matter how late the flight, I knew there was a drink with my name on it when I fetched up home. Too late, I kicked myself for not thinking to invite the group that had provided such refreshing distraction from the banality of flying.