Feed the baby, they say. And what could be easier, when they are little? Open shirt or bag, seek mouth, insert boob or bottle. Now diaper changing, that is the steep learning curve. And an itinerant parent’s worst nightmare. Because hunger just means a stroppy baby. A messy diaper means many stroppy adults and suffocation by odour in a sealed airplane cabin.
So you would think that architects and planners of public spaces designed to help you part with your travel funds would, along with such accoutrements as plush chairs and mobile charging points and water fountains and laptop stations, think of the comforts of these miniature travellers too. After all, they can make the chattering masses of adults uncomfortable enough to complain out loud.
Mystifying, then, that the powers that be at the new Kolkata airport thought to provide a babycare room with no changing table, and indeed, nary a surface to change a child on apart from the floor. The walk-in closet of a room with a single ornate sofa such as brides and grooms are wont to occupy at their wedding has one other piece of furniture: a basin with running tap water. It isn’t so cramped a space, though, that it wouldn’t have held a wall-mounted changing station. Or indeed, more seating than the sole two-seater.
That the sign on the door, to which you have been led by the usual international symbol of a diapered baby, suddenly labels this closet a bottle-feeding parent’s sanctuary is even more mystifying to a parent, though granted the distinction may be a subtle one for the uninitiated. Viz, no bottle-feeding caregiver typically requires privacy or special facilities to feed a baby… Unless it is to change the baby.
And not to be nitpicky about the architect’s obvious concern for infant and parental hygiene, but what is the point exactly of a wash basin here? Is one to wash bottles there? In which case, where and how to sterilise? Or wash one’s hands perhaps? Why the latter if one is breastfeeding? Oh, after changing a diaper perhaps. In which case, yes, that changing table or at least a cot would have been handy!
All do which does beg the question. What were they thinking? As tortuous as the Tagore handwriting scrawled across the ceiling, the thought process defies ready grasp. And leaves harried parents wrestling with a messy and frightened baby perched dangerously on an unhygienic toilet seat or in danger of contaminating regular seating areas. As for the third mother needing to breastfeed her infant — or the first in this case, as the two occupants of the couch as I went in were wielding bottle and wipes, respectively — we are back to finding a quieter row of chairs to satisfy the distractible tot while hoping fellow travellers will not fuss about the NIP (nursing in public).
Way to keep the customer satisfied, airport authorities and planning honchos! Not.