25th June 2000 |
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When Mahadevi ruled the skiesBy Roger ThiedemanPicture the scene. Ratmalana airport on a warm day in March 1956. Noon nears as a sizzling sun blazes down. On the tarmac, basking in the midday heat, sits a large, unfamiliar aircraft. At least its colours are familiar: the red and yellow of Air Ceylon. But the airplane, gigantic for its time, is a magnet for the attention of inquisitive onlookers. All curves, sinuous and sensuous, this winged machine is almost dolphin-like in appearance. Dominating the unusual shape are three tail fins, each proudly emblazoned with the Air Ceylon capital 'C' logo. Harking back to seafaring tradition, the name Mahadevi (Sinhala for 'great goddess' or 'great queen') adorns both sides of the nose, beneath the cockpit windows. Two large elliptical wings, and four powerful engines each driving a three-bladed propeller, complete the ensemble. This sleek airliner is a Lockheed 749 Constellation. Built in America, it has been leased by Air Ceylon from its owner, KLM Royal Dutch Airlines, for use on overseas services under the banner of Ceylon's national airline. Along with the Constellation, KLM are providing their own pilots and technical crew. But a few Ceylonese stewards and stewardesses will share cabin duties with their Dutch counterparts.
Today will see the Constellation's inaugural flight, but it is not Air Ceylon's first international foray. After foundation in 1947 as a domestic and regional carrier, scheduled overseas services commenced in 1949. Using two Douglas DC-4 Skymasters in collaboration with Australian National Airways (ANA), the Ceylon flag was flown as far afield as Bombay, Karachi, Tel Aviv, Rome and London. Later Singapore, Jakarta, Darwin and Sydney joined the international network. But it ended in 1953, when Air Ceylon and ANA parted company, with the Skymasters going to the Australian airline. After a three-year hiatus, KLM stepped in with an agreement to provide technical and managerial support enabling Air Ceylon to resume international services. Now the day has arrived for the first Air Ceylon/KLM overseas flight. There is a buzz of excitement in the departure lounge at Ratmalana. Well-dressed men and women - paying passengers (a return Economy Class ticket to London costs Rs. 3,410, or just under Rs. 5,000 in First Class), VIPs, airline officials, and a few fortunate media personnel - are agog at the prospect of a historic aerial adventure. Finally, the departure time of 11.30 a.m. is here. Passengers enter the Constellation and take their seats in its luxurious cabin. Boarding steps are withdrawn, doors are shut, and engines started one by one, accompanied by billows of blue, oily smoke. Slowly, gracefully, Mahadevi taxies to the end of the runway. Then, in a crescendo of roaring engines and whirling propellers, she accelerates and soars skyward. Ahead stretches a journey over 24 hours in duration, above and through exotic locations, to its destination in Amsterdam. While passengers grow accustomed to their comfortable cocoon, a sumptuous lunch is served. A BBC representative aboard said it was the best food he had ever had on a plane. Air travel in the Fifties was a more leisurely and expensive affair, enjoyed only by the affluent and the important. Back then airline meals were fine repasts, eaten off the best crockery with real cutlery. Not the mass-produced, insipid mush masquerading as food in many of today's economy class cabins. At no stage during the Constellation's journey are passengers neglected. Pilots and cabin crew work hard to make the trip enjoyable and informative. Landmarks are pointed out and competitions organised to keep boredom at bay. At 3.45 p.m. Mahadevi touches down at Santa Cruz airport, Bombay. After exactly an hour in Bombay, Mahadevi takes off again, on its next leg to Karachi. Darkness has fallen by the time the Constellation reaches Pakistan, on time at 6.50 p.m., some seven hours after departing Ratmalana. There is ample time before the scheduled take-off from Karachi, so passengers are transported to the nearby KLM resthouse. Here - again reflective of how times have changed for international air travellers - they freshen up, with even a bath if desired, and a proper sit-down dinner. One of the newspaper reporters aboard Mahadevi's inaugural flight was a special correspondent from the Ceylon Daily News. Here is an extract from that unnamed writer's report: "Miss Valerie Wickremesinghe, air hostess, alighted at Karachi, earning her rest. She was radiant for the seven hours she was with us but the Dutch air hostess who was equally winsome disembarked at Cairo, where the first crew stopped, Captain Geerling having done a fine job. Thereafter, charming Prinsen Geerligs, the sole hostess, said in reply to a question why there was only one girl now: 'We Dutch girls are stronger'." Back in the air at 8.35 p.m., Mahadevi leaves Karachi behind and points her nose towards Bahrain. As the four engines drone a lullaby, cabin lights are turned off and passengers sleep. Unlike their counterparts in today's cramped 'cattle-class' seats, they recline and repose in spacious comfort. Bahrain is reached at the unearthly hour of 12.45 a.m., local time. One wonders how many passengers stayed on board the Constellation and slumbered on during the one-hour transit stop. Then, at 1.45 a.m., Mahadevi picks up her skirts and sweeps away into the dark, desert skies. Next stop: the magical, mysterious Egyptian capital of Cairo. Touchdown is on schedule at 5.15 a.m. Again, passengers disembark for a wash-up and breakfast at a Cairo resthouse. When Mahadevi leaves Cairo at 6.45 a.m., the sun's rays have already crept above the horizon, illuminating the earth beneath. According to the Daily News correspondent, "Two huge pyramids could be seen in the distance, and the great Nile and its fertile green valley, so well irrigated and cultivated." The new day brings the first inkling of possible disruption to Mahadevi's hitherto successful inaugural flight. Weather over Europe looks unfriendly, and there are fears of having to bypass Rome and land instead at Nice, France, owing to forecast snowstorms. However, Captain Hurdmann perseveres, and descending through a layer of cloud, finds Rome, guiding the Constellation to a landing just before noon. A minor technical hitch detains Mahadevi in Rome for 20 minutes longer than planned. But at 1.00 p.m. the Constellation is airborne again, this time headed for London. The Daily News tells of "...the sheet of snow from the heel of Italy to the glistening Alps, out of which rose majestic Mont Blanc. I saw it approach me from the cockpit and the Mahadevi almost rubbed shoulders with her in trying to show us closely such a spectacle." Landing in cold but sunlit London around 4.00 p.m., ten passengers leave the airplane, before its final leg to KLM's home base in Amsterdam. Once more, the Daily News takes up the narrative: "And now the Mahadevi is approaching Amsterdam ... We have covered 5,505 nautical miles, with six halts of 71/4 hours and 241/2 hours' flying in (sic) Mahadevi's memorable and enjoyable maiden voyage for Air Ceylon from Colombo to Amsterdam, where we stepped out on snow." So began a two-year period of service by the Constellation of Air Ceylon. In November 1958, it was replaced by a larger, faster, more modern Lockheed 1049 Super Constellation, also leased from KLM, and given the name Somadevi. But in 1962, after the 'Super Connie' had been, in turn, supplanted by a Lockheed Electra jet-prop, the Air Ceylon-KLM 'marriage' was dissolved. Like most divorces, it was controversial and bitter. But that's another story ... |
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