The timing could scarcely have been more disastrous. Just as India’s literary festival season commenced, IndiGo—the nation’s aviation behemoth commanding 63% market share—descended into operational pandemonium. Over 1,000 flights cancelled, passengers abandoned at airports, on-time performance plummeting to an abysmal 8.5%—all stemming from catastrophic failures in crew management and cynical regulatory brinkmanship that has left India’s cultural tourism credentials in tatters.

For authors travelling across continents to participate in literary festivals, the past three days have been nightmarish. Stranded in Delhi, Mumbai, Bengaluru, and Chennai airports, these writers found themselves pawns in IndiGo’s management débâcle, their schedules obliterated by an airline that spectacularly failed to prepare for regulations it knew were coming.

The numbers tell a damning story. Over 750 flights cancelled on 5th December alone, following 550 cancellations the previous day. All 235 IndiGo flights from Delhi airport grounded until midnight. The airline’s network—2,300 daily flights connecting the nation—reduced to chaos. But unlike technical failures that occasionally plague aviation, this catastrophe traces directly to management incompetence and what one might describe as “artificially created” disruptions designed to pressure regulators.

At the crisis’s heart lies IndiGo’s failure to plan for updated Flight Duty Time Limitation regulations implemented in November. These rules, designed to prevent pilot fatigue, had been announced in January 2024. The airline had ample time to prepare, yet chose instead to expand operations—adding 15,014 weekly domestic departures to its winter schedule.

Authors who spent months coordinating international flights and preparing for panels found themselves marooned in terminals with zero information—a 2025 literary festival version of *The Terminal*. Festival organisers scrambled desperately to salvage programmes as keynote speakers, panellists, and moderators simply couldn’t reach venues. A Booker-winning novelist meant to deliver opening keynote of one fest remained stranded indefinitely at Chennai airport. Authors from Africa and Europe who’d travelled thousands of miles found themselves camping in airport terminals—literary refugees in all but name.

The economic impact extends far beyond individual inconvenience. Literary festivals drive significant cultural tourism, yet Delhi-Mumbai fares skyrocketed to ₹80,000 on alternative carriers, pricing ordinary readers out of attendance. Bengaluru witnessed 73 flight cancellations on 4th December alone, decimating its literary festival’s opening day.

What renders IndiGo’s collapse unconscionable is the information vacuum that compounded passenger suffering. Departure boards displayed obsolete data, airline staff lacked basic booking details, and the company maintained deafening silence. Passengers reported 9-12 hour waits with scant communication and no ability to retrieve checked luggage. At Chennai airport, a near-riot broke out at precisely midnight.

For India’s cultural sector rebuilding after pandemic disruptions, this is devastating. The government has invested substantially in promoting India as a cultural tourism destination, positioning literary festivals as key elements. IndiGo’s meltdown savages these efforts precisely when international attention focuses on India’s cultural offerings.

International authors aren’t merely passengers; they’re influential cultural ambassadors whose experiences reverberate through global literary networks. These narratives of dysfunction now circulate through international literary communities, corroding India’s carefully cultivated reputation.

As IndiGo promises “normalisation” by February 2026, fundamental questions persist: How did India’s dominant carrier so catastrophically fail to prepare for regulations announced two years prior? Most damningly, did IndiGo deliberately engineer chaos to pressure regulators into abandoning safety measures?

The literary festival season represents India at its finest—intellectually vibrant, culturally confident, internationally engaged. IndiGo’s self-inflicted catastrophe threatens to overshadow this with images of organisational incompetence and management cynicism. For a nation aspiring towards global cultural leadership, that damage represents a betrayal of India’s cultural ambitions by an airline that chose profit over professionalism and regulatory gaming over basic competence.

Hasintha Thilakarathne