The next big event was our Addis
Ababa visit for Pranav’s annual examinations. The time, March 2003. There were many Indian families in Bahirdar
but very few Indian teachers had school going children.
It is not that they did not have
school going children. They did, but with foresight they had left their
children in India along with their wives or with their parents and had come
down to Ethiopia.
The next set were newly married
couples with no children and the last set were teachers in the twilight of
their career, retired college and university professors trying to line their
retirement nest with a little more feathers (cash) to make their post
retirement life a little more cushier!
That left Azaz Ahmed sir’s family and
mine. Azaz sir’s daughter Shariqua Ahmed too was also studying in the second grade along
with Pranav. They were distance education students of the Indian school, Addis
Ababa and were allowed to study in remote locations and take their examination
once in a year.
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| Piazza, Addis Ababa |
The Indian School, Addis Ababa was
located in Piazza, one of the busiest business centres of Addis.
Piazza is well
known for its shops and quite distinctive Italian design and flavour. It is
part of old Addis Ababa. It is the watering hole of the well-heeled Addis Ababa
citizens.
We initially planned to go to Addis
by road using a Cobra (Toyota Land Cruiser) but after my bumpy, gut wrenching and
dusty Addis Ababa road trip the idea was quickly dumped.
We were sitting in the PEDA campus
canteen, sipping Shai and contemplating on which day to fly, when Ahmed sir
wryly commented “Sir, flying in an aeroplane was a dream for us, and here we
are planning to take our families by aeroplane to Addis Ababa and that too to
write second grade examinations!!!’. I was deeply struck by what Dr. Azaz Ahmed
said.
Hailing from the innocent sixties, I
saw the majestic Aeroplanes flying from Begumpet airport. I was wonderstruck,
overawed and quite often wondered “Would I be lucky to fly in an aeroplane at least
once in my lifetime?”.
I remember my “NETWORK” days. It was
the October of 1998 and Sales and Customer service departments from Secunderabad
office were asked to come to Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir.
Our excitement knew no bounds. We
were thrilled to the core. We went to Delhi by second A/C and from Delhi we
flew to Srinagar and for most of us it was our first flying experience.
We were fascinated to see our luggage
disappear and were quite intrigued by the boarding pass and the security check,
all of which are not part of road and train travel.
I can distinctly remember sitting in
the wide bodied jet. There were four of us siting in the centre. Ranganath our
ASM (Regional sales Manager), next to him was me, sitting next to me was Vijay
the simple but a nice sales executive from the Customer Care Department.
Vijay marketed daisy wheels and floppy
drive to customers who bought electronic typewriters from NETWORK. Sitting next
to Vijay was NETWORK’s unofficial jester Ajay Nadig. Ajay looked very innocent and
those looks deceived everyone. Beneath his innocent looks and baby veneer, lurked
one of the most mischievous and innovative prankster that I had ever known!
The plane took off and we could all
see that Vijay was tense like a coiled spring. We too were feeling the stress
but were pretending and had the looks of seasoned regular air travellers. We
even fooled the air hostesses who was taken in by our act!
But poor Vijay was not having any of
it. He was almost gagging and was as comfortable as a fish out of water. He had
a haunted look. Suddenly the aeroplane hit an air pocket and there was a
distinct loud noise.
Vijay almost jumped out of his seat.
Only his seatbelt saved him. His face was ashen. He turned to me, I was shocked
at the paleness in his face. “Anil bhai, kya hua? (Anil, what happened)?”.
Before I could answer, Ajay piped in
“Arrey Vijay kuch nahi rey, plane reserve mey gira”. For the uninitiated we
were all from the Chetak era. Whenever the Chetak scooter’s petrol level
reached the critical level (which usually means that little fuel was left) we
could hear a peculiar noise. The noise was an indicator that petrol had to be
filled.
Vijay went ballistic. For the next
few minutes he was cursing the Indian airlines and the frugality of the pilots.
He had a very brilliant query “what is the reserve holding capacity of this aeroplane”.
Ajay was innocence personified “pata
nahi, par ho sakta hai ki das ya pandrah litres hoga (I don’t know but I am
guessing that it would be 10 to 15 litres)”. We had to physically restrain a
now perturbed Ranga from revealing the simple truth.
Ranga, Ajay and I had to control our
laughter as Vijay almost said his final prayers. Until the plane landed in
Srinagar, Vijay was on the proverbial pins and needles.
It was only after many more months
that Vijay came to know that there is nothing called reserve in an aeroplane
and that its fuel holding capacity ran into thousands of litres of highly
refined air-fuel.
We booked the air tickets for the 16th
of March. Each ticket costed us 250 birr
(Rs 1,250/-) from Bahirdar to Adds Ababa. Our children were prepared and we
planned to stay at Bel Air hotel.
Bel Air was popular among the Indians
as it allowed visitors to cook their own food. We packed our clothes, text
books, Murrukulu, jam, utensils and the most important item, the kerosene
stove!
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| Queen Elizebeth Street, where Bel Air hotel was located |
The journey day finally dawned and
Pranav was tensed. It was five months since he had gone to a regular school.
The night before, all the Indians of our Kable Dr. Srinivas, Dr. T.N. Murthy,
Dr. Neelima, Dr. Kuldeep and Tasneem came over and wished Pranav. It was as if
we were going off to India!
We slightly widened the Andhra, Tamil
Nadu border - the rickety, ‘touch me and I shall fall, woe-be-gone’ bamboo fence
that separated our house from Chidambaram’s house. The gap was to ensure Chidambaram
or his wife Usha to come over and water our precious plants.
Early in the morning we engaged a
taxi. The charge for an airport drop was 50 birr (Rs 250/-). We reached the
Ginbot Haya airport and our journey was about to start.
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