Train Drain

With portly luggage and heavy emotions, I reached the New Delhi railway station. Immediately, just like how flies get attracted to uncovered sweets, coolies in all shapes and sizes thronged me, offering me their service. I politely declined, at times not so politely. Going by my gangly demeanor, they probably sensed that I won’t be able to carry the baggage of my own. And I was determined to prove them wrong. A bull-headed person I am; I swayed, swerved, and bumped into people, in fact anything to keep myself from falling down. I was in no doubt that I looked like a dipsomaniac, who is always on a bun. With much ado I reached the platform, with my luggage and my bones intact.

Finally, at 2. Pm, the much awaited green flag fluttered, from a disembodied hand, so it seemed. The train blew an ear shattering whistle, until I thought that my ear drums could take it no longer. Finally the train chugged along leaving behind people coming to see off relatives, the chaiwala, the posts, the vendors, the other stationary trains and everything that’s Delhi, at least that’s what I liked to see things as. I was coming home.

Now that the 2424, Rajdhani had left the NDLS, things started falling into place. The once overcrowded compartment looked pretty spacious. With luggage tugged underneath the seats, differences settled, people busied themselves with playing cards, reading newspaper, chatting up with co-travelers, gawking at lady passengers, and anything that could be done within the confines of the train. It always surprises me how so many people could have decided to travel at the same time, day and place, everyday. I was traveling alone, as usual, with a novel to keep me company. I started taking in what’s around, studying people hoping to find a pretty girl to start a conversation with. Though in reality, I like to keep to myself. So much so that as soon as I board a train I am at my taciturn best.

Now let me introduce you to the immediate neighbour to my left. A middle aged gentleman, wearing thick rimmed spectacles, supposedly lost in the newspaper. Supposedly because, he was more interested in what the girl, sitting right opposite me, was reading. Above me was his accomplice, because he seemed one step ahead. He didn’t even need the newspaper as a garb to ogle at the pretty thing. I guess her mother didn’t take too kindly to this, and as if by telepathy there came another middle-aged man to her or rather her daughter's rescue. No offence meant to the new arrival, but his size measured poorly to take on two full grown, Delhi-bred males high on libido. Well soon after, a baby started wailing furiously, that reminded me of one of my colleagues, who can produce such noise without so much an effort. You just need to tell her to open her mouth. Now, coming back to where I left, the baby I later realized was upset with the baritone voice of the announcer, who from time and again tells us where our train has reached. There was a newly married couple some berths away from me. They stuck to each other, like a nail to a magnet. The bride exuded joy and I only hoped that she doesn't become another victim of a tyrannical mother-in-law.
A train journey could be a fascinating one, if you keep your eyes and ears open (though I never seem to enjoy it). You can see people dozing off in awkward positions, with their mouth wide open, oblivious to the flies and insects getting a freeway. It also amazes me to see how two to three full grown people cramp themselves in one single seat, entangled with each other and sleeping as if there’s no tomorrow. It’s a comical sight. If you have nothing better to do, you can also kill time by listening to people’s conversation. There will always be one character who will occasionally throw shafts of mordant wit. Like when one peanut vendor was roaming in the platform and his sales pitch was, ‘Time Pass, Time Pass”. One unassuming gentleman called the vendor and asked him in a pretty nonchalant way how much time a packet will pass. The poor vendor replied five minutes. The gentleman bought the packet and made the vendor wait beside him, as he started having the nuts from the packet, keeping and eye on his watch at the same time. The rest is history. I remember another incident where an old man made a pass on a college girl. The girl politely turned back and said, “Keep your mouth shut, if your rotten teeth are dear to you”. That shut his mouth for good and everyone burst out laughing. There are far too many like this to fit into this much of print space.

As for my journey, I always felt the train took a detour while I am homeward bound. Hours seemed like days, and the train inevitably runs late, for some reason or the other. This time it was no different. Thanks to Indian Railways, the train, as I learnt, was running three hours late. And that meant three hours less from the already depleted 10 days leave and escape from deadlines, clients, computers, creative briefs and everything that is synonymous with stress.
At around half past two in the evening, the train reached NJP ( New Jalpaiguri ) and which meant I had covered 2/3rd of the journey, about 1000 km. This was the first time I alighted the train, to soak in some fresh air and give my posterior some breathing space. I saw vendors selling cheap Chinese electronic gadgets, ranging from battery to hi-end cameras. I guess they smuggle it from across the border, which is not so much a bad thing to do considering we poor souls get to buy a Casio watch, supposedly for friends, for as less as hundred bucks. I was tempted to buy some colourful watches, more so because a girl was haggling with one vendor about a particular watch. Well! Good sense prevailed and I dropped the idea, but not before the girl had asked me my name. Which I was pleased to oblige. The girl, who was also traveling alone somehow figured out that I was also an Assamese, going home on a vacation. She must have empathized with me, who was also, as I later learned, working in Delhi, away from home. Though the acquaintance came late in the day, I couldn't have been happier. The boring, lonesome journey suddenly became exciting and worth traveling. She joined me in my compartment and we chatted till I dozed off and she unremittingly continued with her verbal volley. I knew girls are talkative by nature, and I was willing to take the risk. But I never imagined that it could be of such intensity and I realised 'Girls will be Girls'. And every time she spoke, it seemed her eyes spoke a language too. Dancing and glowing with every statement she made. Sooner than I had imagined, the train was crossing the mighty Saraighat Bridge and the mightier Brahmaputra. I always loved the spectacle. Spectacle because, I always feel that nothing can cross the Brahmaputra unless the mighty river grants permission, and a train crossing the river looked like the river giving way to it to slide past its lap. Many of my co-travelers threw coins to pay their reverence. So did my friend. Who religiously genuflected and with all her strength threw two coins (one on my behalf, as I didn't want to get up and risk losing my window seat). That was the only time she kept her mouth shut. Thank God!
But not for long, as she started talking again and the next thing I knew, the train approaching the Guwahati Railway station at around 8.30 in the evening. I was greeted by a labyrinth of dilapidated thatched makeshift huts, foul smells and heaps of garbage, which flanked the railway track. I couldn't have been happier as it meant I was reaching the station. I was desperate to reach home and it seemed as if the train had had enough too as it started to squeak and grunt while struggling to come to a grinding halt. A sense of unhurried lassitude had descended on the train and one gets the impression that it wants the passengers to go get off its back as soon as possible, so that it can relax too.
I wasn't expecting anyone at the station neither was she. I helped her lug her belongings, which weighed more than me. No wonder I had a hard time carrying them when it was getting difficult just to carry myself. Though it was offset by her lovely company. We exchanged our contact numbers, and I was clumsy enough to lose it. But some things are better off for a short time, like the train journey.