As the sliding glass doors at the exit opened and I walked onto the footpath, a flood of fresh air hit me. The strong and unmistakable smell of wet earth, petrol fumes, smell of humans, fragrance of frangipani flowers hanging off the hair of maidens, smell of coconuts and spices mixed in humid air filled my nose. The next to notice were the sounds, sounds of blowing horns, phut phut of a motor bike, an announcement on the public speaker system in what sounded like English, gentle browsing sounds a broom cleaning the footpath and a mini crowd of taxi wallahs surrounding me eyeing my luggage. The heat and humidity started affecting my skin. The pores started filling with sweat and a few drops appeared on my forehead. I could see a bright sky, a large parking lot filled with taxies, small Indigo cars, some auto rikshaws (go carts), a policeman in khakhi blowing a whistle to control the traffic, private car drivers in clean shirts and half upturned lungis, a paved and tarred road with pot holes filled with water was the scene.
Such were my first impressions on exiting the airport of a small town in South India.