HAPPY JOURNEY PART 2: SECTION 1
Fortunately, I wasn't alone in this great historic sojourn. Destiny assigned me a Sancho Panza (or may be made me one, but as he is the shorter one so I would prefer the thing outside these brackets). Prasoon also got the same train and coach (He also hadn't booked tickets until it was quite late). After a good start from institute we reached station by 5:30 p.m. and found our train already waiting on platform no.11. Now Indian Railways had decided to conduct the survivor test on a 'night mare' level.
The coach was left on the platform, in blistering sun since 4, with all its doors and windows closed. Now, it could serve as an ideal real life green house survivor laboratory. The hoi polloi of the nation, being less intelligent then us had given the test a miss, preferring a milder ' I can win' level later in the evening. But, since we are the intellectual elite of the country, we accepted the challenge head-on. I opened the doors of the coach with full gusto, and a refreshing gust of dried, baked, roasted, sauteed, barbecued, fried, pressure cooked air hit all my senses. Unfazed, I barged inside and hauled all my luggage inside. Sancho was then sent to celebrate the first victory and bring some drinks. We came back by 6:30 and none had occupied the coach even now.
Finally people started filling the coach at around 6:50. The Railways had prepared a full bumper bonanza entertainment extravaganza package for both of us. It succeeded in organizing a full blown team deathmatch inside the coach, in a manner which would have done organizers of Roman gladiatorial games proud, by intelligently renumbering the old seat system. They painted, nay, scribbled with a pencil new seat numbers alongside the old ones, which were neither erased nor cut out. The new numbers were so well scribbled that you could have easily seen them in the light of a 50-rupee or a 100-rupee note. Now, both the old and new numbers vied for passenger's eyeballs. But the eyeballs were busy elsewhere, actually with each other, fully dilated, with blood veins formed into roses with odious offerings , full with excitement and anger.
What ensued could not be described in words, but still a sane attempt can be made. What should I call it? Pandemonium, stampede, chaos, bedlam, anarchy, hullabaloo, hubbub, din of a battle etc are still for the more civilized world. It was nothing short of a Hobbesian war of every man (and woman) against every man (and woman). And yes, it looked as if our journey would be solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and ......long. Finally, better sense prevailed and a social contract was reached. The Leviathan (read TTE) was entrusted with the decisions of who gets what. My seat was secured by the biblical monster. In the end, both of us had escaped the brilliant opportunity afforded to us by railways to play a real life Quake match.
Prasoon had seat number 11, sandwiched between Rekha ( F18) and Mamta (F48) . No wonder he was excited. But the poor fellow gave up any Bang Bros. ideas when he actually saw them. And, finally selpt, I mean, occupied a seat next to me, which was till then uncontested.
THe journey became peaceful. We met another unclucky chap, an MBA from pumba Amol Chaubey, who also had not booked tickets in time. Three of us played teen patti. Had our dinner, and as railways was no longer in mood to organize gladiatorial battles, or may be the sacred sacrificial season was over, we went about doing other mundane things. And finally slept at around 11:30.
P.S. : The last game played was counting the number of lights visible in the horizon. Which slowly decreased from 60 to 30 to 20 to zzzzzzzzzzzzzz..........
What ensued could not be described in words, but still a sane attempt can be made. What should I call it? Pandemonium, stampede, chaos, bedlam, anarchy, hullabaloo, hubbub, din of a battle etc are still for the more civilized world. It was nothing short of a Hobbesian war of every man (and woman) against every man (and woman). And yes, it looked as if our journey would be solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and ......long. Finally, better sense prevailed and a social contract was reached. The Leviathan (read TTE) was entrusted with the decisions of who gets what. My seat was secured by the biblical monster. In the end, both of us had escaped the brilliant opportunity afforded to us by railways to play a real life Quake match.
Prasoon had seat number 11, sandwiched between Rekha ( F18) and Mamta (F48) . No wonder he was excited. But the poor fellow gave up any Bang Bros. ideas when he actually saw them. And, finally selpt, I mean, occupied a seat next to me, which was till then uncontested.
THe journey became peaceful. We met another unclucky chap, an MBA from pumba Amol Chaubey, who also had not booked tickets in time. Three of us played teen patti. Had our dinner, and as railways was no longer in mood to organize gladiatorial battles, or may be the sacred sacrificial season was over, we went about doing other mundane things. And finally slept at around 11:30.
P.S. : The last game played was counting the number of lights visible in the horizon. Which slowly decreased from 60 to 30 to 20 to zzzzzzzzzzzzzz..........
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