The word ?airlines? smells of primeval dust. In one of their mini-seconds of dazzled illumination, the wise men in government who run Indian Airlines ? the organization, not the aeroplanes ? knew beyond all doubt that this word would not fit the state-of-the-art image they were seeking for their charge. Indian Airlines is now to be called Indian; the reason is anybody?s guess. A fiery patriotism might have encouraged them to burn out all other words from the proximity of ?Indian?. Or it might have been the usual misdirected instinct, homing in on precisely the wrong thing, or a fanatical miserliness, a particularly acidic form of indigestion or just a disappearance of that elusive quality called good sense. While the air carrier?s name is changed, potential passengers are left to grope for some kind of logic behind it. Logic would be a relief: it would imply security.

Changes of name are not illogical, neither are they unheard of. The British Airways was for long known as BOAC, standing for the British Overseas Airways Corporation, until it acquired its present name in 1974. That was the result of a merger, as was the change of name of Swissair in 2002. The airlines carries the brand name Swiss, a likely model for the new ?Indian?. But there are no mergers in the Indian?s skies, merely an anxious ? frenetic? ? desire to change into a slick, trendy identity to compete with the youngsters in the air. But stodginess, if that was the problem, is better than silliness, and nothing can make up for the sheer baldness of Indian. It is likely that Mr Praful Patel would see in the new name a mark of creativity, having been honoured with the Centre for Asia Pacific Aviation award for best aviation minister of the year on the same day that the change of name was announced. History was never the strong point of Indians ? the people not the aeroplanes. The attempt to drop the Maharaja as mascot of Air India in 1989 was a failure. He came back, but perhaps in these times of smart texting, Indian will remain Indian in spite of wild confusions.

Dependability and all-encompassing movement through the skies could be the message of the new logo, inspired by the Konark sun temple in Orissa. But ?Indian? is a most undependable word: there are just too many people in the land not sure whether they are Indian. Besides, it would take a thoughtful passenger to connect the wheel from the sun temple to flight through the skies. An optimistic imagination has outstripped expediency. Do wheels fly? It would be a fine mess if the railways ministry now decides it is allergic to the word railways. And then there is the problem of sounding sensible. A man might be flying Indian, but a tiny slip would make him into a flying Indian. Which would, of course, be quite correct metaphorically, without bothering about semantics. It could be explained away by the clever line from an American soap, where a character explains the connection between a man and his aeroplane. They are both flying, she says.