Railgaadi (Train)

Since my childhood, I have been completely amazed by the trains. Amazed by the way they connect people and places and amazed by the size and possibilities of them and amazed by the way they work and by the fact that how much a common person depends on them. I remember, when I was a child, my father wouldn't let me stand at the gate of the coach and get off at stations (considering the fact that I was one hell of a bastard during my childhood). At that time, I so desperately wanted to grow up. And then, I grew up and I did what I wanted to do. I would stand on the gate for long hours, watching everything pass by. I don't know why, but for some reason, standing on a racing train's door gives me a feeling of immense power and freedom,
a feeling I rarely get. Standing on a train's gate while it is moving at 100km/hr and seeing it turn is amazing. All that fast blowing wind that falls on your face and takes away your aroma into the thin air to let it finally vanish is excruciating. If you have not stood on a pacing train's door ever before, you are most certainly having issues. And if that was not all for issues, I have a hefty count of friends that have never been on a train ever before. I sometimes don't buy the fact that there actually are people who have never traveled in a train in their whole god damn life. And then you call yourself sane huh? How can one stay away from such a humongous phenomenon?

The only thing that I hate about trains is that one can hardly sleep in it. At least I cannot. But, though I may contradict with myself, it is also the best thing (sometimes). I wake up through the night, looking outside the window. Mind you that I didn't say seeing because seeing is watching something and registering it in your mind. Looking is... well, just looking. Yeah, so I look outside the window whole night- into the eternity, small and big towns, woods, farms and fields. And think, not about the farms, but about everything else not even remotely related to them. Now don't tell me you haven't been philosophical about life at some point while traveling (or is it only me?). I think about my past events, the dark ones and the bright ones. About people who are in my life and about people who were in my life. About things I would do in future. Here, I share a little secret with you guys. After every train journey of mine (which are always quite big), I have a brand new business plan that would shake the world (though none of them see the light of the day) After all this thinking, I shift to watching movies and all and yeah, sometimes writing too. This one is written while I am on train.

It so happened that I didn't got a reservation in an AC coach in the train back to home this time and by the call of acute helplessness of events, here I am sitting in a sleeper coach after an eternity. Since past 3-4 years, the only time that I have been in a sleeper coach is to escort some illiterate guy in it. If you have never been in a sleeper coach before go be there. But on second thoughts, don't go. Wait. Whatever! Do what you deem right; I hold no responsibility for your actions. And for the sake of readers who wither away from even the name of the train, I may try and explain what goes in there. It is not easy mind you. Many veterans have tried to explain that scenario and I hold a social obligation of matching up to them. Let’s see if I can.

Every sleeper class coach of the Indian Railways train is almost the same. Loud noises of babies and children crying and weeping echoes almost during 50% of your journey. The Oh! So sweet smell of freedom (human wastes) makes you feel rejuvenated (sick in pants) all the time. People smoke and drink (both of which are not allowed) on their respective seats like it’s one of their yoga routines. The compartments are full of people traveling without ticket as if the train is some fucking property of theirs. Curses and slangs are chanted so frequently that you soon forget they actually were curses and slangs. Using a washroom (if you find a vacant one that is) is a task roughly on the level of Fear Factor's array of tasks. But then, finding a cleaner one is even more difficult. Patches of beetelnut juice on the floor are so many that you can count them and pass a good amount of time (me and my cousin came out with this game of counting patches when we were a bit young). So yeah! This is pretty much what it is . I know it sounds really scary but it is not (it's scarier).

The moment of truth that I faced while traveling this time was that a middle aged couple with two young daughters (probably 8 and 5) were traveling in the same compartment. I was sitting on a window seat and reading, when one of the two girls (the elder one) called me and said "Uncle, let me sit near the window" (What?! Uncle? She was so not getting the window seat now!). I was too involved in reading to pay attention to her childhood fantasies. She was quite a brat and irritated me a lot. I wasn't really impressed by her cuteness and she chanting words like alien attack and transform shape (Ben Ten, you have ruined the younger ones of my country! You owe me one) were not helping either. There was no way I was leaving window seat. Sad by my denial, She did what every helpless child does, call her parents for help. Now, his father was gray enough to realize that I am not one of the regular visitors of the sleeper coach and only a ticket problem must have led me here in the sleeper coach. He on the other hand was not ...rich. There is no nicer way to put it. There is never a nicer way to put the harsh realities of someone's life in front of him. He cannot ask a man superior than himself in education and money to just get up and make place for her daughter. Who is he after all? He asked his daughter to shut up and sit down where she finds place. I then did something that I am really proud of. I got up and shifted and made place for the little girl solely to let that girl believe that her father is a hero. Her father's gaze met mine and I reassured him of one thing - "There is still a little bit of good left in this world!" Until next time,

Adios!