The Srinagar Trip That Almost Wasn’t

Some trips have a story. Ours has a saga — with a cast of characters, several plot twists, and a mysterious VIP who may or may not exist

It started innocently enough: a flight to Srinagar via Delhi, where friends waited with snacks for us. What could go wrong? Air India, as it turns out, had a whole list.

Act One: The Two-Hour Warm-Up

Our flight was delayed by over two hours due to “mechanical issues,” which is airline-speak for “we would like you to sit here and think about your life choices.” When we finally asked what the plan was, Air India offered us a replacement flight a mere twelve hours later — casually torching our plan to meet our friends in Srinagar, as if that were a minor scheduling footnote rather than the entire point of the trip. Apologies were not included. Helpfulness was not included. It was, in short, a build-your-own-disaster kit, and we were the ones building it.

Act Two: The Great Rebooking Scramble

Faced with twelve hours of nothing, we did what any reasonable people would do: panicked productively. We booked a late-night flight to Mumbai instead, plus a room at the Hilton, and canceled our Radisson near Delhi airport — no refund, of course, because why would the universe give us that one small mercy? This was especially painful because Mala had thoughtfully packed nuts and namkeen for that stay, snacks now condemned to travel the country without ever being eaten at their intended destination.

Meanwhile, in the chaos, my husband raced to book us a flight onward to Noida — and, in classic trip-of-glorious-errors fashion, booked the wrong date: another expense, another no-refund, another small monument to the general vibe of the day.

Act Three: The Skywalk of False Hope

We landed in Mumbai and, delirious with optimism, watched the skywalk stretch out ahead of us and thought: maybe, just maybe, this leads to Srinagar. It did not. It led to baggage claim, which is a place skywalks famously always lead, and which we knew perfectly well going in. Hope is a stubborn thing.

Act Four: VIP Movement, Explained to No One

Then came the bags — or rather, all but one bag, which was stuck on a trolley that had itself been stuck because of “VIP movement on the tarmac.” A phrase that raises more questions than it answers. Chiefly: why would a VIP be walking around on the tarmac? Is that a perk? Do they get a little golf cart? Nobody knows. The tarmac kept its secrets.

Getting from the airport to the Hilton — a drive that should have taken ten minutes — took over half an hour, for the same unimpeachable reason: VIP movement was, once again, happening. Somewhere, someone very important was moving very slowly, and the entire city was expected to wait politely.

Epilogue: Memorable, Indeed

Our tour coordinator, Afiya, blissfully unaware of the day we’d just had, sent a warm message hoping our trip would be memorable.

Dear Afiya: mission accomplished. It already is.

.…. from Gita’s Chronicles of Chronically Underwhelming Experiences