Friday, June 03, 2011

Training Day

Warning: LOOOOOOOOOONG post. But then rants usually tend to be that way.

The one good thing that the British rule left behind (besides the lovely language that you are reading) would be the Railways. Train journeys are the humanest means of transport- they are colourful, exuberant, fragrant with the scent of life(and other not so fragrant things)and full of character. While my more fastidious and finicky friends may prefer the avian mode, I firmly believe that flight is to train as an Ingmar Bergman movie is to a Rajni flick. And no train experience is complete unless it is carried out in the sleeper class where one can experience the teeming sea of humanity at it's garrulous best.Of course this is the pink-tinted version of the smoky locomotive story. Even the author, an enthusiastic endorser of the Indian Railways, must admit to having faced several moments of doubt. But no journey has managed to shake this constant admirer's faith in the railways!

...Wait...

There was that One Train Journey...

If the diligent reader would recall the mention of a third wedding in mallu-land, we may establish the setting of this tragic tale. We had whined, dined,given our newly espoused friend blood-pressure problems due to constant blushing and generally had an awesome time. Now it was time for farewell. The author, her comrade Apple and their comic relief side-kick Para (pseudonymed so for several reasons- none of them complimentary) were to leave immediately after the wedding. Kerala being such a hot-spot and Sabari being perpetually over-booked, we had taken the precaution of booking our tickets earlier than early. Though our tickets- in true Sabari fashion- were in the RAC category,constant internetting showed evidence of our upward movement and consequent seatedness. Poor Para, on the other hand, was in the railway limbo called the Waiting list. But we generous seniors assured her that we would share our confirmed seats with her.

The trouble started with the time. Anyone acquainted with the RAC process will know that it is the early bird that catches the berth. Hence we set out from the wedding venue well in advance of our train's arrival. If my loyal readers would recall a certain previous post, they would recall that a Mallu wedding usually entails being awake when normally you would be in La-la Land. As a result the wait at the station was a battle against vertical snooze. Furthermore there were complications regarding our assured seat bliss: For some reason the seat numbers were not showing up on the chart. Tamping down on our rising trepidation we decided to wait it out and keep our chins up.

But as anyone who has had to do their fair share of it would agree- waiting is the most painful of experiences. Furthermore, keeping your chin up is very difficult when it constantly slips downwards in inadvertent sleep. To add to this already excruciating situation (especially for the back of your neck) any train announcement -consistently of some other train- was preceded by the aggravatingly up-beat MCR mundu ad which would jerk us out of half-snooze into the arid plains of vain hope. To add salt to our wounds, any blessed interval between these spells was demolished by our darling Para who had taken to humming the entire ad right down to the tag-line. It is a wonder how she survived the journey without being thrown onto the train tracks. An hour and a half later the wretched announcement finally mentioned Sabari Express- only to tell us that it is delayed by an hour. This was repeated thrice, by which time we our sanity - already threatened by lack of sleep, leering station loungers, demanding beggars, the damned MCR Mundu ad and our junior's unhelpful repeat-telecast of the same - was on its last leg.

Four hours later Sabari finally trundled into the station- and conveniently stopped several bogeys ahead making us run after it like the proverbial Lola. Matters were not helped by the fact that Sabari was uncharacteristically crowded and resembled a Calcutta Local train rather than an interstate sleeper. Added to this was the fact that the train stops for exactly three minutes at the station. There followed a dramatic enactment of the Charge of the Light Brigade. Several mangled body-parts later we managed to squeeze our way into our compartment and to our prescribed seat... only to find a family happily settled there. Confusion ensued as both parties had confirmed tickets. Meanwhile the tide of would be passengers surged around us hurling impatient abuses at our inconvenient position right in the middle of the alley-way. Thankfully this annoyed our comfortably ensconced co-passengers enough to make them create previously non-existent place for us to rest our behinds. And so the commencement of our highly eventful much delayed and interminable journey saw Apple, Para and I perched at the edge of our seats.

EX-Seats, as it were. The much awaited TTR made his harried appearance and brutally squashed our hopes of occupancy. Apparently our confirmed seats had to be sat in a junction back. Since our behinds did not make their presence felt at that point our seats were reneged. So here we were seatless and suffering. As we sat(?) slack-jawed at this declaration, one of our helpful comfortably lounging co-passengers took it upon himself to give us a long list of rules justifying the lack of seating and our general stupidity. Needless to say we were not too grateful for his input. Ignoring the annoying human rule-book and our aching feet we bolstered our flagging spirits. The TTR, in his hurried rush had let slip a golden droplet of hope into our parched minds: "...cross the state border and seats may empty..." With these words in mind we perched on whatever horizontal unoccupied surface we could find and hung on for dear life. The Author, being rather small and monkey-like, managed to climb her way into somebody's luggage-occupied upper berth. At some point of time she keeled over in sleep and Apple and Para sincerely feared for her life since she refused to regain consciousness regardless of rigorous head-shaking and shoulder shoving. They were saved from the task of calling for a stretcher when a couple of hours later the Author finally opened her eyes with an eloquent "Huh? Wha-?"

By this time the border had been long crossed, the dinners had been served and people were demanding the use of their berths. We were still stuck in seat-limbo. Enough was enough- It was time for action! Leaving Para to keep an eye on our scattered luggage, Apple and the Author set of to search for the TTR. (A search not unlike the Matrix trio's search for the Key-maker. There were an equal number of tight situations -Literally) After having finally located the elusive official we were told that Salem was our Jerusalem: "Wait for Salem, seats will empty". Having extracted a promise of seat update from the TTR we trudged back a little uplifted to our compartment. Meanwhile the happy family who had gotten our seats decided to take pity on us and gave us the side lower berth. So there we were three females cramped into a single berth. It was like a human picasso painting- all angles, no comfort. By the time the Sabari edged into Salem several body parts had lost sensation- small mercy.
At long last the TTR made his blessed appearance. We woke from our half slumber our bleary eyes lit with undead hope. He flipped his sacred seat list and said "No seat."

Our undead hope was staked in the chest.

Para, being a resourceful soul, located a couple who had vacated one of their berths in favour of companionship and made herself at home there. Apple and the Author were left to negotiate minimal space with optimum accommodation.How we managed to avoid spinal injury in the next few hours is beyond the imagination of this writer. Day break saw Para the hapless Waiting-Listee sleeping like a baby and the two 'confirmed' passengers turned into human scalene triangles. The half-asleep but ever-alert Apple noticed that other more fortunate souls were waking up and vacating berths. Throwing caution and pride to the winds we quickly scrambled onto these havens and slipped into blessed oblivion. At least that's what I did. Unfortunately, Apple was not fated for dormien bliss. Her berth was sadly located in the lair of two terrible toddlers who took to playing tag between berths and were not averse to jumping on her feet or screaming in her ears. Their continued existence on this hallowed earth is testament to Apple's sainthood. Around afternoon the heat (in mine and Para's case) and the noise (in Apple's case) put an end to any attempt at sleep and we were brought back to unhappy reality. The co-passengers, well-rested and happily settled, tried hard to make conversation only to receive monosyllabic responses. Except of course for Para who gave spirited, renditions of the godforsaken MCR Mundu ad to the admiring public. Wretched brat.

When at last we were finally just a station away from our destination, Sabari decided to delay itself yet again. Ah the humanity!!! I believe the torture of the journey can be best expressed by the fact that it felt a lot longer than this post. Needless to say we avoided long distance travel for a while. But all said and done, when push comes to shove I would still prefer a train journey. They may be messy, smelly and utterly dehumanising: but they definitely make for a good story.

9 comments:

Materialmom said...

A knight in shining armour - thats what this story needed, what with 3 damsels in distress...
I liked the play on Salem - Jerusalem

AtomicGitten said...

Knights are too passe. But I suppose some eye-candy, armor-clad or otherwise,would have been nice :P
And thanks :)

P.s: UPDATE

notgogol said...

Lol @ "It was like a human picasso painting- all angles, no comfort."

Damn neat post. It's strange how I always relish your torment induced pieces :)

P.S. Lol @ What is it about leather jackets that make you purr?

iAM said...

sigh... you poor poor babies.. question - what brought on the rant? or has it just been a long time coming?

AtomicGitten said...

NG: Thanks :)
As for your sadistic interest in my torment I can only write it off to the damage inflicted by Chandigarh on your psyche :P
And that question is yet to to be answered.

Fen'huang: Planning for Antarjanam's up-coming nuptials reminded me of the inevitable train journey and consequently of this journey.Of course this story pales in comparison to your bus-capades.

Dasht-e-Tanhai said...

Brilliant! My belated sympathies with the author and her comrades, nevertheless a good laugh. We can make a short film.. Ass-aulted! :D

AtomicGitten said...

Your sympathies are balm to my soul. That is a capital idea: it was total drama after all :P
I was thinking Enter-Train-ment was a good option :D

MENON'S MUSINGS said...

:'(

so sad!

so funniee . .

njoyed the vicarious pangs

babumama

AtomicGitten said...

One uncle's laughter another niece's pain :P