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I must confess that I never did think much of air-hostessing as a profession. This prejudice started at a very young age when it occurred to me that it was all about serving horrible people with a smile on your face. I imagined every one of those grinning girls offering passengers “orange juice, sir and madam?” actually wanting to pour it into their laps.

Later I heard all the lectures about getting to see the world and meeting world famous fat cats in business and first classes. In years of flying as a passenger, walking past first and business to the cattle section, the only fat cats I have ever noticed are Asha Parekh and Shammi. Obviously, I take the routes less flown.

The explosion of airlines has meant that thousands of young girls and boys are cramming the skies. Where do they come from, I have wondered as you may have, so different from the aunties and uncles on our national carriers of yore? I have the
answer and it comes in two words: Dehra Dun.

I can say it with conviction, having just been there. Once Doon was the repository of the best of Indian school education (those schools in the Rajasthan desert, the Shivaliks and Nilgiris can hold off their snorting anger) and other prestigious institutions, now it is the national capital for air hostess training institutes. Everywhere you go in that valley town in the foothills of the Himalayas, you either bump into an air hostess in the making or get blinded by a giant hoarding advertising an air hostess training school or turn the corner and see one or the other of the academies.

These are all marvellously smart young people and add glamour to the streets of what might be a state capital but is still a relatively sleepy town which has just about managed a functioning airport miles away from anywhere. While pilots still say “aamolldoss” when they mean “arm all doors” or speak in incomprehensible tongues, today’s cabin crew are spiffy, smiley and quite tough with idiot passengers who refuse to switch off their mobile phones, fold their tray tables and put their seats in upright position.

Some people might believe what they like about Doon and its past but I am clear about its future: “Cold towel, madam?” So, on the flight back to Mumbai I asked, “Where are you from?” And sure I got the answer I was looking for: “Dehra Dun”. Don’t say I didn’t say it first.