A Second Class Journey

I have travelled a lot in the second class compartment of the Indian Railway system; this is the first time I observed it so closely. It was then that I realized, in a third world country being a middle class person  how happening  it is to travel in this only fast, cheap and convenient mode of transport.

My journey was from Bangalore to Nagpur by name “Sampark Kranti” basically meaning “Connect revolution”. I’m sure the thought of Indian Railways behind bringing in this venture is of creating a revolution in connecting different parts of the country. However, most initiatives in our country do not necessarily accomplish the very reason for which they were established. Governments ventures for development and accomplish scams. Opt for ‘Nuke deals’ and accomplish no confidence motion and above all aspiring democrats’ committing rape and murder end up with a ticket to parliament. Anyways I’m travelling in a second class compartment and train is creeping on the track after a massive honk from the pressure horn. One of the engine drivers is showing a green flag and his counterpart, a guard in the last bogie is reciprocating to it with a green flag. It often makes me wonder why they sync with each other before train moves; does it confirm the full length of train intact? Our train was picking up speed and from the window I could see a big stretch of India lying idle and being unutilized. It’s lack of efforts and initiatives that we have not explored and exploited the opportunities lying in this land. I’m sure if dates and melon can grow in deserts this land too is capable of enough to grow something if not anything at least Samosa, bread cutlet breakfast. Now what’s this bin suddenly coming my way!!!There goes my thought process punctured, as a vendor injects a virtual menu card of his ‘ready to serve’ products. His effort to hunt hungry people seems to go in vain at least in my compartment. But, however I appreciate his persistence in screaming out “Garam Samosay” “Tasty cutlet”. Claim of Samosay being Garam stating a more subjective manipulation than an objective manifestation, good enough to trigger a sudden urge in the person who was sitting next to me. He beckoned “O Samosa!!!” I was surprised, what a name? As if he had full acquaintance with one of the Samosa in the vendors plate and called that in particular to tackle his appetite. I was definitely proved wrong as it was the call for vendor. This did not perturb the vendor who was busy moving ahead. Ultimately leading to someone in between this hungry soul and the vendor had to cascade his voice in order to grab the vendor’s attention and he returned towards us. It made me wonder what this famished soul (my neighbor) was thinking when vendor was passing by us. I’m sure he could afford it and now it’s also got confirmed that he desired it but I believe he was contemplating with the willingness, fortunately however he was not too late in his decision making our Samosawala is now standing in front of us instantly just like Aladdin’s genie when the lamp was rub. I could now see him carrying a number of Samosas sandwiched between the tray and an oil soaked paper. The paper was serving more as a mini skirt for the entire vicinity of the tray revealing more than it was supposed to hide, psychologically it was supposed to work as a hygiene agent and was sufficient to convince the middle class passenger of a second class compartment. I could see my fellow traveler is munching an Indian Samosa with Chinese sauce conveying if not at diplomatic level at least at a salivatory base – “Hindi Chini Bhai Bhai”.

After a brief flurry of activities I’m back to my day dreaming across the landscapes which I see through my window appreciating the beauty of nature. Appreciating the creator and his creations, the beauty he made the colors he filled and above all he made these entire things available to us absolutely free. On the horizon I could see the sky covered with clouds and the sun playing hide and seek. Constantly moving I can feel the consistent cold breeze and the warmth of sun intermittently complimenting each other. This is what god has gifted us and what we have given in return is “Garam Chai”. Oh it sucks!!! You don’t even have rights to get carried away with your thoughts. Every now and then somebody will breach the jurisprudence of your thoughts and choke the entire flow conveniently. Since morning, every second vendor is selling the drink of boredom “tea or coffee” which is possibly the most preferred drink for an idle Indian. No doubt, there are so many tea stalls close to government offices. Nevertheless, these tea coffee vendors were still selling this liquor like hot cakes.

Here, I’m sitting on the side berth feeling they are possibly the best berths unless you’re bestowed with height above 165cms. Etched, on the window I could see someone has scribbled “Chanda, I love you…Rahul”. Which made me think the infinite number of assumptions the owner of these words would have made before leaving this graffiti here?

Assumption 1: Chanda will also travel on the same route.                                                                                                  

 Assumption 2: Considering Rahul’s emotions Indian Railways will arrange the same compartment during her travel

Assumption 3: She’ll sit in the same seat (considerations as mentioned above)                                                   

Assumption 4:The railway compartment window will do the job of a cupid successfully replacing a pigeon in 21^st century

What should I consider this? Height of optimism!!! In the event of the above character not having made above assumption and these words flowing out of emotional passion; I failed to understand the logic behind bringing awareness about his valentine to people travelling in a train fully aloof of either of the characters and their emotional aggression(“it’s like the ‘emotional ‘atyachaar’”). We Indians are hypocrites towards love affairs as we love it in theory and have a constant anathema towards it in real life. We are ok as long as it happens in our neighborhood but we become averse to it when it happens to one of our own- in terms of religion, cast, creed and what not, comes in picture, compliance to every norm towards the facets mentioned above becomes mandatory and in case you dare to revolt “Soup-Soup, fresh tomato soup”. A vendor is selling “fresh tomato soup”. Not sure what does ‘fresh’ mean here, if the soup is made fresh or it’s made of fresh tomatoes. Either way, at 1.30pm a starter cum appetizer, coming for all those middle class people, who are habituate of three course menus. A gentle man has finished his lunch just now and has ordered a tomato soup for himself, an appetizer as dessert. It happens only in…

Ever since I boarded the train I’d have moved my bottom a couple of times just to adjust my posture, except for that I was sitting like a statue. Now I can feel my kidneys have worked properly in the course, my bladders are full and require a quick clear. I stood up and walked towards the restroom. I’m standing in the corridor between two restrooms and one of them claims ‘Western Style’. I opened the door and went in. I found a commode seat which was western style and used in Indian way. Two prominent shoe prints on the seat was making it more evident. Since, I had a small call I honored the seat by lifting it and achieved my sole objective of coming to this place. I can compare the walls of restroom from the walls of Khajuraho. Somebody who was aspirant of higher sex education but deprived of appropriate stationery used the walls of restroom as his paper and prepared a solid presentation of ‘love making’. Apart from this there were few mobile numbers which claimed ‘full satisfaction’. Also, there was a doctor (he claimed at least) with expertise in treating some venereal diseases with guarantee. Not sure about his competency and claims, but I liked the place of promotion. I have fastened my waist belt and noticed somebody is fiddling with the door stopper and few more minutes the person may barge in.

It’s the mid of afternoon and most of the people are bit drowsy after a heavy lunch and the middle berths are coming up people are going for sleep. A gentle man in opposite berth has taken out his sleepers and kept it under his head and went to sleep. I never knew a chappal can be used as a pillow too. May be this is the only time when chappal at head is well accepted. Soon the gentleman went into deep sleep a strong chain taking care of his belongings and his head is ensuring the chappal’s security. I too went to sleep by leaving my chappal in its fates disposal. Evening when I woke up I picked up a “Garam Masala Tea”. May be it was Garam (Hot) when it was prepared, not when it was served to me. As far as Masala is concerned it was lacking its basic ingredient i.e. Tea. This is what happens when market is ruled by monopolist. You don’t even get the value for the money; on the other hand the capitalists pile the money in their lockers. At one hand the world is moving from “Customer Satisfaction” to “Customer Delight” on the other hand people are deprived of proper food also on wheels and what are we doing sitting by and clapping, clap clap…Oh Somebody is clapping next to me. It’s a eunuch asking for donation considering him/her being sexually challenged. I offered a two rupee coin but he/she was programmed to identify minimum Rs.10 note. I was reluctant for this demand. What an irony, being the recipient of somebody’s mercy you has the arrogance of demand. But he/she was stubborn moreover hell bent on her demand and tried to take my self-respect into ransom. But I too gave a strong defense, maybe it was beyond her expectation and she realized that giving a fight to person of my character is not worth especially when it’s your peak business hour. But yes, while leaving she left few abuses for me to ponder for rest of my journey.

It’s dark outside, from window I can see only few lights glowing here and there. Inside the compartment, compact fluorescent lights are on and few people are busy playing cards, few technically advance people are busy with their laptops, while few are reading books/magazines. Rests are doing miscellaneous tasks. There is a person who is reading the ‘personal’ column of a women special magazine, and in between he is looking here and there to confirm he is not watched. A girl at one corner is reading a thick novel of Sidney Sheldon. Surprised to see how she is holding this book in one hand while she was using her other hand to transfer wafers from the packet to her mouth. I was wondering how she can maintain such a figure while consuming potato chips. Considering her figure if she folds and unfolds her hands holding the book, it’ll be as good as dumbbell exercise for her. Meanwhile her mobile phone rang and she accepted the call by pressing the green button and then she took some time to locate her ear under the thick strip of hair; she managed to find that and went on busy talking. Sidney Sheldon was half open and resting on the wafers packet I was giving a constant steer to her meanwhile I heard “you are attention please”. It was the central addressing system of Vallarshah station.

As I’m coming close to my destination I’m giving up my patience. I’ll reach in another couple of hours and these two hours sounds to be greater than the hours which I already spent since morning. People diagonal to me already had dinner and discussing politics. Their discussion has started way back with petrol prices but since then it has travelled longer distance than the distance we’d have travelled on track. An old person was advocating Congress and started counting its achievements ever since Ani Besant would have named it so, while other person sounded Hindu fundamentalist and has almost made a temple in Ayodhya. As the discussion went ahead many people came and it was capturing temperature the only thing that was separating our compartment from being a parliament house was, these guys were decent. Everybody had a point to prove but god knows why they were doing so. In an hour’s time the discussion breached the jurisprudence of discipline and turned to be an argument. The people were shifting the discussion topics more than often. If you could capture the arial view of discussion you would have seen a labyrinth altogether, one opening, one exit, so many doors, and people lost in between. Few more people gathered there. The current topic was on India’s fate post 26/11, somebody said – “We were and are fooled again and again and we accept it whole heartedly, these politicians fool us once in 5 years. Before that britishers fooled us, before that Mughals and Mongols”. Another Hindu radical thought intercepted the voice and said “what these Mongols  and Mughals rulers have given us apart from forts and tombs”. “Biryani-Biryani”,”Veg- Chicken Biryani” a vendor came with leftover inventories from pantry, train is entering Nagpur Junction and I started unlocking my luggage.