When Abhimanyu was informed about how Meera had been honest with her family, and how Kamal, his friend from whom he had kept this relationship a secret, had come through for the lovers, his guilt knew no bounds. Meera’s fiercely independent spirit that he so admired had truly come to the fore, and there he was, unable to speak the truth. He did muster up the courage to ask his family to back off, to stop them from coming to Bombay or to New York. He wanted to be as far away from their judgmental presence as possible, but he just couldn’t tell Meera about his conversation with Uday Singh. That would have to wait yet another day.
Chapter 12
‘FLY WITH ME TO LONDON VIA CAIRO AND GENEVA,’ screamed the full page spread in the Times of India. ‘I LEAVE BOMBAY EVERY TUESDAY IN A BEAUTIFUL CONSTELLATION.’
Next to the text, Maharaja, the famous Air India mascot, welcomed passengers with a bow. The advertisement, however, had been placed not to sell tickets – all forty passengers of the shiny Lockheed L-749 Constellation had been carefully selected months in advance. The advertisement announced to the world that India had arrived on the international stage. The chairman of Air India, Mr JRD Tata, stood proudly on the tarmac, knowing that he had achieved the impossible – launching an international flight, to Great Britain of all countries, within a year of India’s Independence, beating the sceptics and a host of other countries that were all still struggling to form their state-run airlines.
The distinguished passengers joined Tata as he ascended the stairs leading to the aircraft. A throng of photographers trained their flashlights on the excited faces. Hamid Sayani of All India Radio stood at the nose of the plane, interviewing Captain KR Guzdar about the historic moment. Maharaja Shri Duleep Sinhji and His Highness, the Jam Saheb of Nawanagar, Rajpramukh of Saurashtra, Mr Dhunjibhoy Noshir and Mrs Fazel A Fazelbhoy, and Narottam Lalbhai – former kings, industrialists and aviators – sat inside the aircraft, giddy with excitement as the engines revved up. The air hostesses wore form-fitting Western uniforms – not the trademark saris that were later introduced in the 1960s – and took care of the passengers.
The next day, each and every paper in the country published a glowing account of every detail of that flight.
What one won’t find in those accounts are the names of two passengers – Abhimanyu Singh of Ranakpour and Meera Apte. It had proven nearly impossible to get on the plane without being recognized, but Ranjit Singh and Kamal made sure that the two lovers made it to the aircraft without being caught in the fanfare. As the air hostesses popped open bottles of champagne before takeoff, Abhimanyu was ushered to the last row with his head propped upwards to contain the slow drip of bloody pus from his barely functional eye, and Meera was right beside him in quiet awe of being on a plane. Yet, she remained focused on her goal – to get Abhimanyu to Mount Sinai Hospital, New York, and to make sure he lived.