Waiting for Claire
I must say, it still looked one higgeldy piggeldy mess with mounds of mud covered with weeds, bits of flyover connecting to nothing and a huge umbrella of steel. But the part that was functioning was quite different in the morning.
The airport was still waking up and being cleaned. Trolleys were being moved and the food stalls were still getting ready to open.
The morning calm was quite different from the frenetic midnight madness that I was used to seeing while picking up passengers.
|Seeing eye to eye|
But what I didn’t reckon with was the fumes of alcohol that came from the breath of meeters and greeters. Holding placards announcing names of the passengers they had come to receive, the drivers were all singularly bored. Most of them were lounging around, staring vacantly and perking up only when a passenger showed up. Then there was a frantic activity as they all came forward waving their placards. I overheard one chap looking bewilderingly at his placard and ask another “Yeh aadmi hai ya aurat?” ( is this a man or a woman?), either unable to read the name and definitely unable to recognise Claire as a female name.
Welcome to Bombay!