Dilli Ka Thug on the Train

The Thug, after a wholesomely satisfying stay in a certain South Indian metropolis was heading back home to Dilli. He boarded the 3 AC compartment of a popular train to his hometown with a good degree of nonchalance towards all the obvious obstacles on the way towards it. Obvious, because it was an Indian railway station.

By the time he settled down in the train, it slowly dawned upon him that he would have to bear the nuisance of having 6 W/L people travelling on the seat just below his. Here, it simply meant 36 hours of immobility on the upper seat. But, that was thankfully not to be. The "Oh momma.. its awkward to travel like tht, wht will they say????" attitude of the two horrible looking girls finally got to their father and he had to reluctantly accede to the demands for taking a flight. The idea came at just the right time from an always-excited 15 year old son who was ably supported in his whims by his sisters. "Bechara Papa"....

Ten minutes and a huffing-puffing departure later, a Kannadiga family presented itself. Now, this one looked like a sweet and small brand encouraged by our Family Welfare Department. A Chartered Accountant, a simple housewife and a sweet kid. And then the entry of the characters whom The Thug started disliking as soon as they made eye contact with him. Exact reason still unknown. But after several prods, the most plausible theory is that of a rich spoilt brat and his "nayi-naveli" snobby wife. No offence to anybody, but God, why do most of the obvious snobs turn out to be from families hailing from that North Indian state which doesn't have its own capital.

Anyways, a small incident minutes later alienated the new people from The Thug even further. The honeymoon couple who's heading for Shimla was accompanied to the station by the boy's parents which looked even more arrogant than their innocent beta-bahu. Seeing them being tortured by trying to fit the huge amount of luggage (and i mean it, 4 really huge suitcases) into the already half-full compartment, an unexplained surge of happiness ran through The Thug. Shortlived as it turned out to be, joy was replaced by a throbbing anger. The arrogant old man shouted at the sweet Kannadiga lady sitting across him. Reason: "Why have you not been helping my dear bahu (check, newly-wed bahu) to move the luggage?" Now, what sort of a man does that? And his own son staring like a mute spectator at his wife doing the job? The row ended with a reluctant apology from the old man.

Meanwhile, The Thug, now settled down to observe the other people in the train and also on the platform. Soon, the train left the hustle-bustle of the platform and was chugging ahead in the large open spaces that abound our countryside. The night falls.

Morning next, The Thug got down at the station of another cyber city in the south to do some petpuja. On his return, he found two 5 year old German kids from the next compartment occupying his place and innocently staring out of the window. Oblivious to his presence, the kids continued with their humorous antics and kept everyone interested in them. Thankfully, the snob couple was not an exception. After the kids, The Thug kept himself busy by reading about the shocking defeat of a football powerhouse at the hands of its nemesis in World Cup Quarterfinals. Various exciting combinations of the possible lineup at Berlin was enough fodder for thought.

Hours passed, and nothing eventful happened. The Thug dozed off soon. It was a light poke near the chin by something very hard which interrupted the dreamy sleep. Horror of horrors, a long barrel of a long rifle was pointing directly at a portion just above the throat. Though the railway guard moved seconds later, the shock moment has since become one of the scariest moments of The Thug's life.

Aiming to take his thoughts from the dark shrouded areas of life and death, The Thug started to dream about the food to be consumed during the still 1 hour away dinner. Various possibilities had made known their presence by knocking at the doors of The Thug's mind. Biryani, Paneer Butter Masala, Dal Paratha, all from the train pantry car. They did sound delicious, but it is better to keep away from Indian Railways food whenever possible. Sadly, there was nobody in nearest city Nagpur also who may have got good food for The Thug. Another great thug friend, stationed in Vishakhapatnam, had earlier done the same on the request of The Thug while he was on the journey from a Bengali Jungle Town to IT City. The Thug thus, had to adjust with the Paneer offering from the train.

Anybody who has travelled on a long-distance train in India would know that food is served in throwaway packets and each customer is given a plastic tray to eat the food in. At the end of 30 minutes, when everybody had finished the meal, the trays were stacked on top of each other below the seat very near the alley waiting to be taken away by the attendant. But something else was written in the fate of the trays.

An old man crossing from there had accidentally stepped over the plates. Messy conditions and yellow patches of left over food everywhere were not the only left-overs of the situation. The old man had slipped and landed his head on a metal bar instantly becoming unconscious. A call for doctors who might have been onboard went out. Nobody came forth, not even a common person to help him with first aid except two German souls. The couple, after 15 minutes of disillusionment with Indian system started some sort of therapy which showed positive results after an hour or so. Seeing the care Germans accorded to him, The Thug had felt some of the embarrassment going away as other people on the train looked shameful.

But more disappointment was on the way. German lady, not knowing about the snobs sitting in our compartment, began innocently and directly put forward the question of the rationale behind keeping the trays in the middle of the alley. The Thug could not keep the grin away thinking, "Finally somebody has the guts to teach them all a lesson". But what ensued not only brought anger back to The Thug, but also shook all the foundations of his belief that Indians are very accomodating and hospitable. Not the arrogant Punjabi couple, but that "sweet" Kannadiga lady's venomous reply came as a bolt from the blue. "Why the f*** do you care about us Indians? If you are such a hygiene and cleanliness freak, why don't you go by air? Why spend 36 hours in this messy torture?" The German lady proudly went back to her berth, clearly not interested in pursuing the cause with a moronic lady.

Rest of the trip passed off without an incident. Its not as if The Thug was eager to witness more incidents after the shattering night which had been spent imagining the kind of praise India would be getting from numerous such visitors.

All said and done, the aura of the hometown Delhi was enough to wipe off all the worries.

"Aakhir kis worry ki aukaat hai malka dal-chawal ke saamne tikne ki???"

P.S. I apologize to all of my friends who may have been offended by some of the statements in the blog. I beg of them not to take the comments personally.

main hoon..bas main hoon.......