A modern problem of experts, with specific, limited knowledge. Each person was so specialised in his department that he did not know anything beyond his limited area.

IF E.M. Foster were to be in my shoes, he would definitely conclude that his prediction about the machine stopping, will come true at the Heathrow Airport someday in the near future. It was on April 1, (this is not an April-Fool joke), that I had some bitter experiences of that famous airport.

I landed at Heathrow just with one hour to spare for the connecting flight. The airport was crowded, in the terminology of our flight captain, and so the plane had to circulate around for the next ten minutes. Fortunately, I had by my side the company of an excellent English Professor from India, to find my way to the next terminal. We were bound for Lisbon via TAP.

"Where is the terminal 2?" we asked in anxiety. "Follow the instructions," was the curt reply. Identical replies would be repeated for the next half-an-hour. For instructions never mislead, they never fail. It is the Bible at Heathrow.

With an excellent Professor of English, (the Professor has made a large contribution to the English language), we could not fail to arrive at the right destination i.e. the boarding point. But to follow the instructions carefully, in a maze of cross instructions, one needs a travelling culture. We could not avail of any human aid. There were several employees all over the place equipped with walkie talkies. Every time we approached one the curt but polite reply was "Follow the Instructions," pointing to the sign-boards.

"What does one do in this bloody airport if one does not understand English," asked my companion with one of the security attendants, who seemed to possess some authority. We were loosing patience with every minute.

"If you follow the instructions carefully, you will soon reach your destination," said the attendant. At Heathrow, they cannot conceive any failure of their instruction system. They are sure that even the babies can follow it.

"Please connect to the TAP desk, and communicate that we are on the way," said my companion pointing to the walkie talkie. "I cannot," said the walkie talkie-equipped attendant.

"But you can communicate with the aid of that instrument," I said.

"No, it is meant only to contact my circle."

"Don't you have some central coordinating agency, a kind of may-I-help-you desk like we have in Bombay," asked my companion.

"My duty permits me only to contact my subordinates or superiors in direct line. I am an expert in my field. I don't know about how the central coordinating agency works." This was a modern problem of experts, with specific, limited knowledge. Each person was so specialised in his department that he did not know anything beyond his limited area.

"In Bombay, even the sweeper at the Airport has a know-how, like a superhuman computer, about each and everything, including evasion of Customs," said my companion angrily.

The attendant just snorted in reply.

"Thank you, Mr Robbot," I said angrily. They are all worshippers of the Robbot God.

We tried the last attendant at the airport, a sweet looking human being. "Can you help us to reach Terminal 2?" Very kindly, she accompanied us for quite a distance and then indicated the instruction board.

"Not again," I tapped my forehead. "If a blind man lands at Heathrow, what does he do?" I asked.

"We have a system for the blind, weak, old, children, sick and the handicapped," said the attendant.

"What does one do if he is not blind, but cannot follow your signs?"

The attendant looked in disbelieve at such a possibility. "How can it ever be possible!" he exclaimed.

"They don't cater to infidels," said my companion. The Heathrow God expects the travellers to understand his religion.

"And if your system fails?" I asked, trying to clinch the point. "If the machine stops?"

It was pointless arguing with the attendant. We had already lost our flight connection.

"Isn't there any Indian around?" asked my companion.

Fortunately, there was one--Ms.Minoo. The angel came to our rescue. With the help of a Portuguese gentleman from TAP they arranged us a flight, late at night, to Lisbon via Porto.