Day 147: Today Bombay (24/06/2011)

After a last minute change of plan we flew from the Kerala state capital in Trivanrdum to Bombay, rather than Delhi. As the flight stopped there anyway, it seemed a wasted opportunity not to; and bizarrely, cheaper too.

Indigo run a new fleet backed by a zesty and brand oriented operation that is the fastest expanding carrier in the world. Cheaper than Easyjet and sharper than BA, expect to see them soon at an airport near you.

More disconcerting was the aircraft operated by Kingfisher airlines, parked next to us on the flight pan. India’s best selling beer has diversified into the airline industry. While the in-flight bar probably doesn’t stock Cobra, the greater fear is that in the future, sharp dressed management consultants will be looking to create synergy between the two businesses. Out will go the polite greeting from the captain on embarkation. In will come a beery breathed hug and a slightly slurred request to borrow some money as you are his best mate after all.

The towering improbability of it all will become apparent when a rancorous tramp serves you a four pack of extra strong lager and a deep fried Mars Bar during your next weekend flight to Barcelona on a scheduled 'Air Special Brew' departure. Throttle to bottle will take on a whole new meaning.

Arriving in Mumbai, formerly Bombay, which most people still call it, but renamed in one of those crass rebranding exercises undertaken by people in search of a proper job, we stumbled upon India’s shameful secret. Varkala hinted at it but Mumbai confirmed it beyond doubt. There is no ‘knowledge’ and taxis wander the city in a perpetual state of disorientated confusion, often asking you, as a first time visitor, how to get to the destination that they swore they knew intimately when you first climbed into the back seat. Tarquin, who bore a striking resemblance to a young Tim Robbins, shrugged at the mention of Ballard Fort, stared uncomprehendingly at the map we gave him and promptly expressed his internal conflict by running a petrol tanker off the overhead bypass.

For some considerable time, we roamed the mean streets of Mumbai, searching for what we subsequently discovered, was the city’s equivalent to Leicester Square. Civilisations rose and fell. New species evolved around us. Old and wizened, Tarquin finally deposited us at Marzin Pan Marg, and motored off into the sunset, beard trailing in the wind.

And so to Mumbai.