About a week ago, with husband I was at a checkin counter in Mumbai airport for returning to Hong kong. We hand both our passports to the young guy behind the counter and happyly realize that the luggage is not overweight after two days of mahashopping. Then i see the fingers of the guy holding onto a colorful purple azul Indian visa page with a blond girl picture. My mind goes “oh he must have more passports on the desk to examine before ours”. Then he closes that passport and i notice it s Italian just like mine. “Oh there must be some other Italians here in airport, sure i am not the only one”. Then mind goes simply blank, we receive our passports and live with our boarding cards to search for a spot for doing a “fill the form”. It s while i am trying to read my passport number that indeed i see the blond girl again! I close my eyes, close the passport. Open my eyes, open the passport hoping to read my name. No, i am seeing correct: dear, look, it s Vicky passport, not mine. How come?? The reception of the center we were staying mistakingly exchanged our passports and nor me nor Vicky (young daughter of a friend) checked inside the pages.
After a couple of minuts of
what we do now?/ Thats too funny!/we didnt check!/The lady at the reception!/Lets call our friends!/you must introspect! (by rethorical husband)…
I have no desire and no time to introspect, this is getting quite exciting, i am in a movie with a sweetly menacing hubbie (where are u going to stay? you have to come back tomorrow now. We have not enough cash to pay an hotel. Dont laugh, this is serious…and so on). Okey i have to contain myself, this is serious, in the worst case i travel alone tomorrow, i can spend 24 hours in the airport, no problem…but how sad to be alone all this time.
Now action! We call all our freinds left behind and in less than ten minuts one of them call us back: I am on the way on a motorbike with your passport, will do my best to be there in less than 2 hours. Yuppi! It s done. I laugh and laugh picturing our friend’s face transforming in Hanuman monkey God, smiling against the wind blowing and manouvring the motorbike in the hub of Mumbai traffic jam! This is SO cool! He s fantastic!
In conclusion, the flight was delayed half hour apparently because of this passport matter. We started literally to make friends with few clarks who appeared on the spot to clearly help us; we were welcomed into managers airport office receiving all the support accompained with jokes and laughs by few AirIndia managers in loco. We were accomodated on comfortable sofa next to a bunch of lonely giggling children ready to fly to Dubai with an hostess who was taking care of filling their forms. Time was spent in the most lovely way except for some intermittent boring “you must introspect” by hub. I see the caring manager talking hindi thru our mobile to our Hanuman in motorbike, giving him directions to which door to drive, then looks at me “give me the passport!”. As i hand it to him he starts softly running, like the actor of the most gentle action movie i was taking part; we start running like in moviola behind him. Time has stopped. The coolest moments of my full India trip! . We stop inside the airport at a small door to see the manager disappearing in it and coming back after a while; he s smiling and handing the passport in a daddey voice utters: now go and take care.
(Hanuman statuework in the picture)