On the London underground, everyone was going home from work; I was going to Asia.
The stewardesses on Air India were a pleasure to fly with. Dark, mysterious eyes twinkled and the smiles were radiant. The happy feeling was contagious and as a passenger I felt like a welcomed guest; a friend even.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught glimpses of soft, tanned flesh so mischievously revealing from under colourful saris. There were three crew changes on the way to Tokyo, and each time passengers were treated to genuine smiles and pearly white laughter.
Unfortunately, I was limited to mere touchdowns in Deli and Bombay. But on the strength of such brief contact I vowed to return for further enlightenment and to discover the land behind the sari and piped santoor.
I look forward to the Air India take-off; the boiled sweet and orange-juice served in a bowing, mustachio- turbaned paper cup, that subtly welcomes you aboard.