It is past midnight.
The only busy places at this time are highways and the trek route to Vaishno Devi.
However, I find myself on top of the night- traffic-volume pyramid, the international terminal of the Delhi airport.
There are lots of other business travellers like myself. You can spot them easily enough, boarding passes peeking out of their breast pockets, and demeanours ranging from confident to weary, to the ones who are downright sick of globetrotting.
My flight leaves at three thirty, and I have finished with my visa formalities and a not-so savoury sandwich from the food court; I park myself at my favourite spot, on one of the recliners bordering the spotless glass facade that overlooks the aircraft parking bays. This part is relatively less crowded; the glass is not enough to block out the collective roar of the jet engines outside.
