I have been in love with trains since my childhood, I love
the constant rocking, the vanishing site and the upper berth, cool blue seats! I love
climbing up to my berth and coop up with a book and listen to the constant chattering,
vendors walking and screeching wheels. I find trains to be the perfect example
of living without excess as well the true emblem of class division. Though a
three-day long train ride might leave one fatigued and a three-hour long
chair-car ride with back ache, trains are in the end a necessity for all in
this country. Nehru travelled a lot in trains where he would read, write and
sell nationalism to fellow passengers and well Mahatma Gandhi was denied the
luxury of first class once and look what the scorned man did?
When I am to return from a mini-vacation of books, drinks,
pizza and cookies, my heart might be too an unwilling partner. To escape heat
of my current location, I ended up in another hot place. The vacation in
nutshell was journey from Fire to Frying pan, but of course the pan offered
pizza.
All vacation must end, all migratory birds must return to
their habitat and all students must return to their institutions. On return
journey, I had to take three our long train ride. Despite being a supporter of
classless society, my ticket belonged to the coolest compartment. Martyrdom
like Summer never appealed me, its monsoon and chilled compartment that woo me.
Seventy-Three read my virtual ticket, the last seat in the
compartment. Beside the foggy window I rested my buttocks. My red backpack was
soon resting below my feet and my new found love for Milan Kundera was bursting
in my hand. I had boarded the train half an hour before its departure time. By
the time train began to whistle, I was already deep in existential crisis.
Fifteen minutes or so later did I notice, my compartment was filled with girls
on college excursion and the seat beside me was unclaimed. Hence my two tiny
legs melted on other seat and the worm inside me cozied up. My backpack became
my resting pillow and thanks to the rocking I was on cloud seven. The herd of same-sex
walked past my seats, once combing their raven mane, once taking selfies,
another moment secretly talking to lovers or haggling with jhaal muri seller. In other words, they all conspired to disturb me,
unconsciously of course. I kept reading and they carried on with their antics.
I have no right to judge them, had I been with my friends on an excursion, I
would have been jumping around like a monkey instead of sit-dancing on Ladki Kar Gayi Chul like these good
girls.
In three hours ride each girl was drunk on pure excitement,
none of them were glued to their seats for much long, while I had made a single
bed of my seats. I was tossing, curling, stretching on the seats to get a
better read of my book. In middle of the ride the fairer sex was in midst of
cracking jokes, laughing at expense of each passenger in train, I was not
spared either. They must have found me like the green frog that hides in dark
corner of my room, I say so because they kept peeping at me every now and then to
end up in fit of hysteria.
The joke hit me when I went to washroom and saw myself in
the mirror, my hair was messed up, my kurta was crumbled up and my trouser was
begging me to give him a rest after constant abuse for a week. In simple words
I was the example of what not to be on a trip or after the end of that trip- a messed up ball with glasses.
Finally, when we stepped down on the station I couldn’t help
but wonder how come each girl was so proper, their trousers were happy,
t-shirts un-crumbled, long hair resting elegantly on their shoulders and
lipstick bright, whereas my lipstick faded into betrayal. For an appearance
concerned human like me, I wanted to ask the beautiful giggling herd, “How do
you manage to be so pretty?”
Sadly, the sun began assaulting our face, like a ninja each
girl pulled out scarfs from her hand bag, in moments their faces were covered
and sunglasses hid their eyes and my question met untimely death on my
lips!
P.S- summer is drying last of my creative juices
thanking you to bear with me
paulOaries
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