When you touch down at Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport, brace yourself. The runway feels like a roller coaster brake—hard, sudden, and accompanied by applause from the passenger next to you. (Yes, people clap. It’s a thing.) The humidity hits you like a wet blanket the second the door opens. Suddenly, you’re not in a plane anymore. You’re in Mumbai, where the air tastes like vada pav and ambition.
I still think about that $487 deal. Did I book it? No—I blinked, and the price was gone. But AI 116 remains on my mental bucket list. It’s not just a flight; it’s a 14-hour test of endurance, a floating bazaar of stories, and a reminder that home is wherever the chai flows freely.
So next time you see that flight number, don’t hesitate. Book it, pack light, and bring an empty stomach. And if you see me in row 34, crying over a movie, just pass the raita.
