I am not the frequent flyer I used to be. But I have flown almost all the airlines at some point of time. The impression I had of SpiceJet was that it was a fairly ‘up there’ kind of airline.

So when the client booked me onto a SpiceJet flight I had no real objection. In retrospect I wish I had objected.

The ground staff was standard aviation industry – a mix of cosmetic smiles and ‘call centre’ automation. The smile comes on, the have a good flight is delivered into your hands but why it is foil wrapped and not even warm, I have no clue. But then that seems to be par for the course.

But it is the aircraft that led me to question the wisdom of travelling airline.

The seatbelts are stiff and in tatters. The bathroom door does not shut. The overall maintenance picture looks dismal.

The SpiceJet flights do not get berthed next to an aerobridge. They have to park their aircrafts on the airport apron which was built for parking damaged aircraft. Apparently SpiceJet is notorious for not being able to pay their bills. But ‘ Saar, important point to be noted is that SpiceJet belong to Maran’s Sun Group’.The moment ‘amma’ came to power she turned all the screws and choked their cash flows. How they will survive poor fellows, asked the porter.

I was tempted to point to the hoards that the Maran family is alleged to have tucked away but I decided to be prudent and discreet.

None of my business I kicked myself into believing.

But it was the South Indian Vegetarian Breakfast that I bought for Rs. 200 that really drove me to despair. I mean can you blame me for expecting a South Indian Breakfast consisting of Idli Sambar and Upma to be of at least Saravana Bhavan class? The owners being hard core tamilians and all that.

But the idlis were a gooey mess and the upma hadn’t yet decided whether to stay asleep or start crawling. The fresh lime juice they served along with the breakfast reminded me of the days when we used to curse the River Cooum for its olfactory assault on us unprotected humans.

I waited patiently for the crew to come around with their garbage disposal bag and dumped the whole unholy package into it.

In all fairness thought, the pilot seemed competent. And executed a perfect three point landing. The flight went on to Kolkatta and I said a silent prayer for the Bengalis who had polished their idli sambars as if it was their last meal on earth or a runaway dish from Cordon Bleu.