Thursday 10 November 2016

Presence of mind while booking tickets — two stories

November 10, 2016

Sagar had been reminding me to book the tickets to Bombay since a week. I had to reach the godforsaken city on 19th November. Finally, after deciding my plans for the week, I sat down in front of my computer today to book them. Everything looked normal and mundane. But leave it to me to make stuff interesting.

I opened Chrome in incognito mode, went to Google flights, typed 'COK-BOM flight fare'. The automatic date that popped up was 1 December 2016. But I needed it for 19th November. So I changed the dates:
Arre wah! This is cheap. Let's  book it.
And so, I excitedly clicked on on the Spicejet tab and booked my ticket. As I was staring at the itinerary after booking and making the payment, I realized that something was off.

That's when it hit me — I had booked the ticket for 19 December, instead of 19 November. I immediately dialed the customer care. I barely had to wait to talk to the executive — less people tend to call them apparently.

She: Hello, blah, blah, blah?

Me: Er. Actually, I booked a ticket for 19th December instead of 19th November. What can I do to change or cancel it?

She: May I know your PNR No.? Blah...

Me: Blah

She: If you want to prepone it, you will have to pay Rs. 4800 over the current amount that you have paid.

Me: Oh! Never mind. I would like to cancel the ticket. What are the cancellation charges?

She: Okay. It will cost you Rs. 2250. May I cancel it?

Me: Bhenchod!

She: Sorry, sir?

Me: Yeah, I mean, please cancel it.

Of course, when I sat to book the tickets again, I made sure not to repeat the same mistake. I was pissed for a minute, then I realized the futility of it. Such mistakes are not going to stop occurring. Zindagi migzara.

Funnily enough, it reminded me of yet another mass blunder I made three years back...

July 03, 2013

Imagine starting the day with the excitement of playing your first tournament in more than a year. I was about to play a tournament in Indore that was supposed to begin on July 04. I used to live in Bombay. Indore was less than 15 hours away.

The emotions you go through when you make a comeback after leaving chess for such a long time can be mercurial. In my case, I was fluctuating between bouts of supreme confidence and periods of time spent shuddering in fear.

The group of friends I was traveling with had assigned the task of booking the tickets for all of us to Pankit and me. We had dutifully booked the tickets for July 04.

I left my office early that day, one day before the tourney began. I made sure that I had not forgotten anything and left for the Borivali railway station. Have I really not forgotten anything? I went through the mental checklist once again. Tickets were with Pankit, who was to meet us at the station. Nope, all in. Time to kick some ass on the chessboard.

We were a group of six people -- four engineers-to-be, a pharmacy student (Pankit), and a wannabe accountant (me) -- and we had booked a train ticket about a week-and-half before the tourney. I knew Atit Gupta, Kunal Modi, and Pratik Shenvi from the time I learned to play chess a few years before this incident. This was the first time I was traveling with Pankit Mota, though. And then, there was the amazing Nikhil Kadam, who looked like he could use a beer.

I asked Pankit if he had the tickets safe. He replied in the affirmative. The train arrived on time at 8 p.m. -- Aravali Express. We got inside the bogey where we were supposed to have our berths. All six of us reached the place where our berths were.

But we were perplexed by what we saw -- all the seats were occupied!

Me: 'Bhai saab, these seats are ours.'

He: 'What?! No, we booked these seats. They are ours!'

Pratik: 'No, sirji, this is ours, have a look at our ticket!'

Pankit was fumbling with the ticket and he held it out for the gentleman to see. He peered into it, and then all of us. Then he burst out laughing.

He: Today is July 03!

Atit: Yeah? So, what?

He: You have booked the tickets for July 04!

We panicked. All of us randomly began to curse each other. And in the heat of the moment, alighted from the train. The train walked off and left us on the platform. Four of them were circling me and Pankit like eagles eyeing their prey.

Atit: Bhenchod, you guys can't even book tickets or what?!

Me: (Silent. Shocked.)

Pankit: Shit yaar. We should not have alighted! We could have travelled in General class!

Kunal: BC, I can't go back to my house now. My parents will cancel chess tournaments for a year if I go back now.

Pratik: Arre, chill, man! Let us walk to Indore! I will play that tournament at any cost.

Atit: Okay, let us try to find buses to Indore.

Somebody got the Indore bus from Redbus and we called the agent.

Atit: We are in Borivili. We need to get to Indore tomorrow.

Agent: The bus is leaving in 5 minutes from Kandivali. No chance you guys can get a seat anyway.

So we looked at each other. My father was calling me to enquire if I was safe. Everyone's parents were calling their dear, heroic, sons to see if they got inside the train safely. Nobody except Kunal dared to lift the ringing phones. All of us had resigned to our fates. And people were cursing me and Pankit left and right. Pankit had had enough of this.

Pankit: Okay, enough. I am calling my dad. I will ask him to send an Innova.

We (collectively): Arre, bhenchod, why didn't you do this earlier?! Ask him!!

Pankit's father was a good man. He understood our predicament and sent an Innova to pick us up. A 12-hour road trip later, we were in Indore, an hour or so before the rounds began.

So that was how the event unfolded. Pratik Shenvi, the guy who wanted to walk to Indore, had an outrageously good event as he was leading with a perfect score after some 6 rounds. He was so over the top that somebody wrote 'Mai hu ma******' on the front of his scoresheet and he did not realize it. He walked to the board and kept his scorebook beisde him, when he noticed his opponent Sai Agni Jevitesh giggling. And then he saw the scoresheet and quickly tore it away.

The rest of us played some great games -- like Pankit's memorable attack over the unrated (!) Saket Kumar. I had a decent event as well and finished with wins over three 1900s. All of us returned home with a prize. The hero was undoubtedly Kunal Modi, who lost to unknown 1400s in the first half, and defeated most of the top seeds in the second half to finish 12th.

On the last day, everybody was having a good time drinking (except Pankit, who had gone to visit a relative, and me, because I didn't drink...). They were praising how great Tania Sachdev looks. Pissed by their constant praise of Tania, I interjected...

Me: Ghanta. She looks terrible.

All hell broke loose. They beat me up and somebody (I was later told it was Kadam) even poured whiskey on me from the top.
The class of 2013
I met most of my friends after a long gap this year in January 2016, in Delhi. I was talking with this beautiful girl in the hall when these bastards attacked me and dragged me out.

In the Batman hoodie is Atit Gupta, and in the Superman one is Kunal Modi. Sitting between and behind them is Pankit Mota. The remaining two are missing from this picture.

Note: Delhi is a fine tournament to play, meet all your friends and at the same time play some good chess. The January 2017 edition is going to be spectacular. We produced a preview of the trio of GM tournament in India that you can read here.

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