Expressions!!

To maintain the privacy of people mentioned in the post (other than me) I have replaced the real names with pseudonyms.

The passenger list:
The Congirl
The Pahadi Baba
The Silent Observer
Her Highness
The Infant
The Nexus Dude
Guest appearance:
Cynosure

2365 Kms, 36 Hours, 2 Nights, 1 Day. These numbers are certainly not meant for the faint hearted. At the onset it appears to be a slow painful grind on the rickety infrastructure of our ‘beloved’ Indian railways, but fret not it is anything but that.

The day of journey was hectic. The great Indian political circus along with the apprehensions of our fellow travelers led to an outrageous schedule: the plan was to leave at 4:30 for an 8:30 train. Given the nature of Bangalore traffic it is not entirely wrong to have some window for contingencies but a 4hour one was always going to be impractical. We all agreed to it, of course, but we all advanced the departure time by our own convenience. The calls made at 4:25, requiring a swift imminent departure, were promptly ignored by most and through naturally acquired group equilibrium most of us were ready to leave at 5:15. But in a group of people travelling together there is always a “5 minute person”, he/she (mostly guaranteed to be she) will always need just 5 minutes more to be ready, for us it was the Infant.  She requested those proverbial 5 minutes at 4:30 and finally used them wisely to grace us with her presence at 5:30. Just 5 minutes. 

The bus took its due time to arrive which had different effects on different people. The nervous ones were busy imagining “what if” scenarios, the casual ones were relieved at the possibility of ‘getting late’ and a couple of miser ones were only interested in seeing an AC 356C roll by so that their investment in an AC pass can be justified. But each of us made sure that we heckled the infant with regular looks of contempt and made her feel guilty, if that was even possible.  The bus ride has another philosophical lesson waiting for us. The only time you get all greens along the roads of Bangalore, a swift relatively congestion free traffic is the time when you have planned it for the absolute opposite. Ironical yet scathingly true. Despite all the “delays” we arrived only an hour early. I’m sure that silently we were all thankful to the infant for cutting down the waiting time to a manageable hour only.

The concept of the wheeled suitcase is ingenious, the long walk from Majestic to the railway station made me realize it again. What the walk also made me realize is the fact that girls and the weight of their suitcases are often horribly mismatched and that it is a stupid idea to have only stairs in a subway connecting a bus station and a railway station. The least they could have done is make a slope if adding an escalator/elevator was not feasible. Even in these times of feminism, equality and selfishness the gentleman in you is too hard to ignore. The moment he sees a girl with a huge looking suitcase standing next to a daunting staircase he rushes to offer a helping hand, even if reluctantly. The response is mostly a satisfying one as she needs to reassert the notion of gender equality even if that requires a huge heart and a matching set of muscles. But some of them are devious and swiftly move away with a mechanical chant of “Thank You”. Thankfully most in our bunch were proud feminist who only parted with their luggage when it was snatched from them by someone (wink at The Congirl :) ).

Railway stations are always an amazing sight. I love looking at different faces there exhibiting so many diverse expression. The sadness of the people sending off someone, the elated faces of the ones receiving someone, the irritation reflected by the waiting crowd, the exuberance of the little ones, the momentary reassurance of the people enjoying a brief pause in their journey and the hustle bustle everywhere. For us it was pure joy running away from a vicious semester to the confines of the best possible place on earth, Home.  

Waiting for anything is a tough task for most of us due to our diminishing reserves of patience.  The problem is compounded when the wait is for a train. The next 40 minutes or so were used to check the length and breadth of our platform no. 8. I always search for a shop with “Fountain Soda” when on stations as they have been synonymous with my stations visits in the past but nowadays they don’t seem to exist anymore.  

Finally the train arrived.

Sorry to say but this one will also be continued....