Friday, April 04, 2008

My Holi Trip

My train is at 2:30 in the morning and I am in no mood to catch it. My both sisters insist that I should take the train, as leaving it will mean waste of money; after all it was booked on tatkal sewa for which there is no refund. My Jijus say it’s up to me to decide. They want me to spend some more hours with them; after all it was some sort of family reunion, with my younger Didi and Jiju coming from Bilaspur and me from Delhi to my older didi’s place at Raipur. Finally I give my verdict- I am not going to catch that goddamn train and so now we have a full night and then a full day to spend with each other. There is a seemingly difficult task of getting a confirmed seat in the next train which is at 4:00 in the evening, but I know I can manage it. I make 2-3 phone calls and it is done.

‘No need to worry. This is not at all a problem. Just buy a waiting ticket tomorrow morning and give the PNR number. That is all you need to do’.

This is how things work in our country. If you know some babu in Rail Bhawan, be assured of confirmed tickets for the lifetime.

Long live the Indian bureaucracy and long live the Indian telecom revolution. My Jijus are impressed. ‘So you know few IASs in Delhi?’ I just give a vague smile in reply and the conversation is lost here. we have a good time for the rest of night and day and the time of departure of the next train has come which I can’t dare to miss; even if I dare to miss it, my dad will shoot a bullet from Dumka killing me at once.

So I pack my small bag with my two cloths and say good bye to everybody who are not going to station. Outside it’s drizzling a bit and I offer to drive the bike which is instantly rejected keeping in mind my speed and rashness. So I ride as pillion enjoying the somber mood of Chhattisgarh weather which matches mine currently.

The train is behind schedule as has been the case with me for ever and we have to wait for some time at the platform. The platform is clean and un-crowded unlike the platforms at all the Delhi stations. There is something which reminds me of Dhanbad Jn but I am not able to find out what it is.

The train comes after some time and I go to check the reservation chart, almost by compulsion. It’s not there and I am disappointed. It has become almost like a routine during my train journeys to check for all the Fs in my bogey in the reservation chart. Not finding an F of suitable age is disappointing but not finding the reservation chart is highly disheartening. It has stolen few minutes of cheap thrill out of my life.

The signal turns yellow and the train starts, just like me, behind schedule. I realize that I had been always behind schedule. It’s not like I have not run at all. But it has been more of running in loops, pausing for breath, wondering over some dark shadows in a moonlit night.

I stand on the foot board at the door. Incidentally it is a moonlit night today, the train is sliding very slowly on its track and the country is looking very serene, very calm very relaxed and very bright. I see a silhouette leaning against the door opposite and I feel a sudden jolt. Dark shadows from past pounce on me, threatening to tear me apart.

You can avoid your future but it is the past from which you can’t escape unhurt.

And here am I struggling on my journey to the future, fighting the assaults of memories I can’t avoid.

It is the most enjoyable moments of life which haunts you the most in retrospect.

They had been a sweet dream come true at some point of time but now they are the worst nightmares you have. There was a time when you wished that train journey to never end and now you get frightened by the same trains as if they are being haunted by some evil spirits. This is how it is- carrying the burden of old memories on the shoulders, getting crushed under its heavy weights.

The stoic in me wakes from the brief slumber. Err it was not a slumber, can call it a nap, so now the stoic wakes up from a brief nap. What a euphemism we use when we mean a stoic. Stoic is nothing but a heartless cold blooded bastard, and incidentally I am one. In fact I am the most heartless cold blooded bastard in the world (Koushik claims to be the second in line :))

I walk back to my berth to be surprised to see a girl in front of my berth. She is about my age, a little fat, just a little, but her face is cute. I start a conversation with her, just some casual chat for some time. There are two kids also in the nearby berths and we ask them to join in. we play some children’s games like ‘Raja Mantri Chor Sipahi’, ‘Chidia udd’, ‘dash kosh single bulbul’. It was so much fun that we laughed all the way. After few hours train stopped at Nagpur and the girl takes her leave and get down. I go up and sleep for the night. And here comes the real masala of the journey.

In the morning I find that one of the families which were traveling in my compartment while going to Raipur is returning in this train itself. A small family of four- Hum do, humare do. The man is bored up and we have some good conversation. He asks for my no. so that we meet over a mug of beer some time. I am not interested in friendship with strangers, but nevertheless I oblige, afterall what's the harm in giving your number. We have some more chat and I will quote the most interesting part of it in hindi, so that its meaning remain intact:

‘Aap Noida mein rahte hai, wahan to bahut ladkiya hai’

‘Haan’

‘fir to ghumne phirne ka poora jugaad hoga’ he seems to be certain about it.

‘bhaiya sab kuch ka jugaad hai’ I reply, boasting the things.

‘sab kuch ka!!' he picked only this part, with a dirty grin.'wah yaar, aapne to poora intjaam kar rakha hai. Aap to rehte bhi akele ho, isiliye koi problem nahi hoti hogi’ he tells in a way as if I have a hen which gives me a golden egg daily.

‘haan koi problem nahi hai mere yahan’ I start smiling on my lies, but seems he doesn’t understand it. He thinks that I am being shy.

‘aap to sharmane lage.’

I just smile at this again and he continues ‘makan malik kuch nahi bolta?’

‘makan malik nahi rahta is ghar mein’ I can defend my lies quite well. I never knew this about me.

‘arrey wah, fir to chandi hai aapki. Peechle janam mein jaroor kuch achha kiya hoga aapne ki dilli mein aisa ghar mila’ he says, as if he envies me.

‘yaar jugaad to mere pass bhi hai, lekin jagah nahi hai’ he continues, but this time in a sorry state of mind and then ‘aisa karta hoon, main apni girlfriend ko le ke aapke yahan hi aa jata hoon, aapko koi problem to nahi hogi?’

ohh god. What is this? I was completely shocked.

He seemd to read something on my face, but again wrongly.

‘Don’t worry. Main mil baant ke hi khata hoon. Aapko bhi milega, main girl friend se baat kar loonga’ he said shamelessly.

‘lekin aapke to biwi bachhe hai…’ I just trailed off. And what a shocking reply I got.

‘yahi to problem hai. Nahi to main aapke yahan aane ka thode na bolta’ he said, genuinely upset.

I don’t say anything, but feel a very strange kind of rage. I don’t know what to say out of it, except that Sigmund Freud seems very true in his study that men are inherently polygamous by nature. Some time has passed like this, doing nothing, thinking randomly and it is a tremendous relief to see the train jolting to halt at Nizamuddin station. It feels like I have been freed from a fourth degree torture in police barrack. I pick my bag and literally run. While going out, I can hear his voice promising to call me on Sunday.

PS1: he called me on Sunday and this time I told him very ‘politely’ that my flat was not a brothel and there are plenty of cheap rooms available in Paharganj and so he should excuse me.

PS2: don’t read much into the polygamous thing. I am unmarried and so can’t tell you for sure how correct Freud was on this theory.

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