Gurugram, 11 December 2025:
In a press statement that reads like it was written by ChatGPT after three glasses of desperation, India’s favourite low-cost carrier IndiGo today announced that it has “initiated” refunds for the thousands of passengers it abandoned at airports last week like an ex who blocks you right after borrowing ₹50,000.
“Most refunds have already reflected in your accounts,” the airline proudly declared, conveniently ignoring the 47,000 passengers currently refreshing their banking apps with the same manic energy as crypto bros during a market crash.
For the unlucky souls who booked through MakeMyTrip, Cleartrip, or any platform that isn’t IndiGo’s own sacred website, the airline has a special treat: please write to customer.experience@goindigo.in, an email address that has the same response rate as a WhatsApp message to your situationship at 2 a.m. (“The necessary actions have been initiated,” IndiGo promises, using the phrase with the confidence of a government contractor who vanished after taking the advance.)
But wait, there’s more generosity! Passengers who were “severely impacted” (translation: cried in an airport toilet while eating ₹280 cold vada pav) will receive a glittering travel voucher worth ₹10,000, valid for any future IndiGo flight in the next 12 months. Because nothing says “we’re sorry” like forcing you to give the same airline more money while praying the pilots remember the new duty-time rules this time.
This voucher, IndiGo clarified, is “in addition” to the mandatory DGCA compensation of ₹5,000–₹10,000. In other words, they’re topping up the legally required apology with a coupon that expires exactly when you’ve finally recovered enough trauma to consider flying again.
An IndiGo spokesperson, speaking on condition of anonymity because even he couldn’t say this with a straight face, told The Khabri, “We deeply regret the inconvenience caused by congestion.” Sources confirm “congestion” is the official new term for “we fired too many pilots, forgot to schedule crew, and then blamed the fog like it’s Delhi’s fault our rostering looks like a toddler’s doodle.”
When asked why the airline didn’t just give cash instead of vouchers, the spokesperson looked into the distance and whispered, “Cash is so 2024. Vouchers are basically cash… but with emotional blackmail attached.”
Passengers have already started a WhatsApp group titled “₹10,000 Voucher = One-Way to Therapy” and are reportedly using the vouchers to book flights they will immediately cancel just to feel something again.
At press time, IndiGo ended the statement with the heartwarming sign-off: “Thank you for giving us the opportunity to serve you again.”
Translation: Please come back, we promise the next crisis will be more thoughtfully managed. Pinky swear.
With you, all the way (terms and conditions apply, crew availability not guaranteed, fog is real, your tears fuel our A320neo engines).
But here’s the real plot twist nobody asked for yet everyone needs:
IndiGo should immediately announce a matching ₹10,000 therapy voucher along with the travel coupon. Because let’s be honest, the only thing more traumatic than being stuck at Terminal 3 for three days is the realisation that you’re now financially incentivised to do it all over again.
Suggested therapy-voucher fine print (leaked by an intern who’s already looking for new jobs):
- Valid at any registered psychologist, psychiatrist, or neighbourhood aunty who says “beta, tension mat lo”
- Up to 12 sessions of “Yes, the boarding music is designed to induce panic, you’re not crazy”
- Special group therapy packages for everyone who now flinches when they hear “Kindly proceed to gate number…”
- Bonus: One free session dedicated exclusively to processing the sentence “We have initiated the process”
Until IndiGo adds the therapy voucher, passengers are doing the healing themselves:
- Booking fake itineraries just to trigger the cancellation email and feel in control for once
- Turning the ₹10K voucher into a dartboard
- Starting a GoFundMe titled “Help me fly Singapore Airlines instead”
Moral of the story: If you’re going to give someone airline PTSD, at least pay for the couch they’ll be lying on while recounting it.
With you, all the way (to therapy, preferably paid for by the people who broke you).
