For some reason, I have always found Terminal 2 at the Delhi airport to be a poorer cousin of its mighty neighbour, T3. Their third cousin, T1, used to be the most annoyingly underfitted terminal for years, but has undergone an unrecognisable metamorphosis to outdo even the resplendent T3.
Poor ‘Titu’, my nickname for T2, from where I am writing these lines, has remained rather modest in comparison and is hardly world-class.
Flights fly from here to lesser destinations in India, or so it seems. And one is usually off to such sundry destinations to deliver some sort of motivational talk. Today, I happen to be en route to Durgapur, the third largest city of Bengal, and India’s second modern planned city, after Chandigarh. Which reminds me that flights to the City Beautiful are inexplicably offered from ‘Titu’ as well. My city is just about the best city in India and deserves much better!
That said, T2 or Titu also represents a philosophy of life that cannot be ignored. The T2 approach to life entails settling for the settled over the glitzy, the mundane over the extraordinary and the so-so over the exhilarating. Why should tier 2 cities, the second-rung scorers, or the also-ran participants consider themselves to be comprehensive disasters? How can everyone in life be a topper, and what fun would that be anyway?
The ‘Titus’ of this world make life what it is. Normal, comfortable, run-of-the-mill and even boring they might often seem to be, but they might reflect happiness in oodles which their top-tier counterparts may have missed.
It is another matter that Titu is also the real-life nickname of a friend and he is the sort of friend who lasts for a lifetime. Dependable without being omnipresent, solid without being flashy and competent without being brilliant. I would opt for a friend like him any day over a flamboyant over-achiever who usually walks on air.
Thus, while the T2s of the world must continue to aspire to emulate the qualities of the T1 model, they need not fret themselves to death in the process. They are much better off enjoying the life they’re leading, rather than forever trying to keep up with the galloping Joneses.
The quest for gradual improvement, as one has often stressed, is more doable than the yearning for overnight transformation. Notch by notch, peg by peg (not what you’re thinking) and step by step, the mediocre can up its game to become a superior version of itself. Hence, by opting to become T2-Plus, rather than T1-minus, one might actually attain the desired objective. Hopefully, I am able to put my point across in T2 style, rather than opting to be overly Tharoorian, i.e., T1-Plus!
On an even lighter note, my wife Neena and I often disagree on fan speeds at home. She is from the high hills, you see, and I am partly from the plains. She therefore feels the heat much more than yours truly. She likes to maximise fan speeds to Toofan 5 or T5 levels, even in October, whereas I am content, once more, with T2 conditions!
One can always choose to crib about the T2 terminal at Delhi airport, of course. There’s so much to miss. One’s favourite dosa chain is absent and spaces are rather more cramped than at T1 or T3. As one writes these words, there is a mini ruckus at one of the boarding gates. The sheer drama of human life, much of use to an observant writer, is plainly much more in evidence at T2.
The sanitised, spick-and-span, totally efficient airport terminals hardly provide for any entertainment of the sort that I am looking for. Much more lively are the T2 queues, with small-town accents, smells and colours. The sheerness of the vivid Indian experience is in full evidence. In fact, the best airports in the world would do well to learn from our beloved T2. A certain amount of disorder, if not chaos, adds a touch of drama to the firmament of flying. Much more dull is the experience of flying off to tier-one cities from supremely efficient airport terminals!