For a few days every year, Bangalore gets spruced up. And the talk turns away from Azim's slipping fortunes and Soota's sudden exit to things a little more unconcerned with infotech
For a few days every year, Bangalore gets spruced up. And the talk turns away from Azim's slipping fortunes and Soota's sudden exit to things a little more unconcerned with infotech. People trained to follow cloud computing trends move their eyes upto the clouds as aircraft of all sizes start hovering around the city.
Private jets skim in to land at the airport, disgorging the heads of Boeing, Airbus, Lear and other manufacturers of lesser aircraft while choppers, fighters and gleaming new prototypes land at the nearby Air Force base.
Hotels are booked up months in advance (and no, we're not talking about the Raja Lodge, 5 pursons in one hall, type here). Luxury rooms that normally cost an arm and a leg, go for prices that rival a small country's GDP.
And while the rest of the country pulls out special themed menus only around the World Cup, Bangalore's pubs and restaurants are now sporting Beechcraft Bellinis, Gulfstream Golgoppas and Embraer Enchiladas. The ordering of B-52's, rumour has it, goes sky high these few days.
It's Aero Show time, darlings. And while there are no skimpily-clad cheerleaders a la IPL, the show is as glitzy. This year, while Boeing's new Dreamliner has just been parked, the defence ministers of various countries are also descending to peddle their wares to the Indian Air Force.
The biggies of business drop by to pick up a couple of jets to add to their fleets, as easy as if they were buying onions, sorry, easier than that. Unfortunately, one couple who were slated to acquire an aircraft had to forgo their plans, due to unforeseen circumstances: the Joshis are now busy sewing up their sofas with cotton, because those uncooperative CBI folk ripped all the wads of notes from their stuffing.
Yeddy has been hoping to be gifted a few aircraft ufffd like the way he was "gifted" those many kilograms of jewellery. His wishlist includes a light one to survey the acres of land denotified in his name; a slightly sturdier one, for those frequent trips to Delhi convincing the top brass to keep him hanging on to his chair. And oh, add to that just a teeny-weeny chopper that can ferry him to astrologers, temples and seers. That's it. And people complain that the poor man of simple needs is inconsiderate and high-handed.
My friend, Meena is all set to pick up a Dreamliner, but only if they deliver it in her favourite shade of baby pink, so it goes with her Laboutins. Meanwhile, for the rest of us who have to think twice about buying a liter of fuel these days, we'll stick to making our own planes ufffd of the paper variety.
