2009 DOWN.........

I am always nervous before undertaking a journey, even after being subjected to it ruthlessly all these years and I was more so since I didn’t have a confirmed ticket for the journey and even more so when I was going to meet (a) loved one(s). Since the prospect of pleasure is highly probable and more nerve wrecking on a private trip than the usual daily tiny stress of being at work. I kept on fretting unnecessarily (I know… I know… nothing new) while waiting to catch the 5.15 ki local. Two railway policemen chatted sleepily behind me. I wondered if they thought of me with suspicion, I did look like one the 26/11 type young terrorist in my tracks and a bag pack hanging behind me. I could be carrying a significant amount of RDX! I don’t think so… for they started walking elsewhere after a while.
I couldn’t stop checking the hands of my Kenneth Cole on my right wrist all the while in the train as it halted frequently at stations among sleepy and sleeping fisherwomen and fish! Eew! (Welcome to my life…) I switched to Mumbai central local to Mumbai central…. Errr… main? Or just Mumbai central? I am not quite sure. The sight of Shatabdi already (!!) on platform no.2 made me more jittery and frantic as I wasn’t yet eligible to travel on it not having acquired my boarding pass cum ticket. I walked as fast as I could clenching and crossing almost all my fingers to buy my ticket. There was absolutely no queue. Has it closed down already? Damn!! don’t tell me sold out… neither. Thanks a lot god!! I promise to pray more. ;) Suspicious men hovered around with pink reservation slips in their hands as not so happy looking officer processed my ticket (he just wanted to avoid the pleasantries I guess… on second thoughts I am sure he is never offered any). Going back to the pink reservation slip holders, self appointed agents I guess, sharing their commission with the railway police(I almost saw money change hands) and at the same time being bossed and pushed around (literally, I saw it too). I am not quite sure how exactly it works though, how do they make money in between that is.. Perhaps black ticketing types. Then I guess it was recession time for them as well. The train was evermore empty then full. Had to do a few ritualistic things ( I have been following some religiously lately) before I board like getting CCD coffee a bottle of water, aquafina preferably and most importantly getting the Times, nothing less then a Bombay edition would do! I paid for the paper without taking it along and remembered it after reaching my sear. I mean how many people are capable of a thing like that?! But I guess I should be excused for certain absent and absurd behaviour after all I am in love! I scaled the whole platform twice. I was in C3 and the newspaper vendor at C13. I certainly read it with more ardent fervor.
I was impressed and relieved that the train started on time and by the neatly dressed attendants that weren’t rude offering various services. Starting with water, I already bought one bottle I don’t know why. Newspapers. Ditto. They didn’t have the Times anyways. I chose DNA as second best from the available options. An entertainment screen per three and two passengers from left to right respectively! Most of the AI aircrafts still don’t have this ratio! Though like a fool I was fumbling for a headset and a control. I seriously didn’t know how it worked here. The only one time I traveled by Shatabdi was exactly(!) five years back on exactly(!) the same route returning from one of the AI interviews.
The entertainment selection was pretty crappy though. Pre recorded video announcements by an average looking dame in Hindi followed by in English ditto AI / government style, playing reruns of reruns from zee smile and zee next(oh yes, they are real television network channels of zee) and various Dena bank, hotels, water park, union bank, vibrant Gujarat advertisements played repetitively. The food turned out to be of the same poor quality but it was interesting to see the same brand and same packaging of ketch up, creamer, butter and jam on the tray as AI. For a strange reason the Wockhardt ticker advertisement welcome the NRIs of Gujarat (errr… excuse me please but this train starts from Mumbai. Thank you very much.) and had some limited period offer. I very well remember it taking over Gondhia trust run Virani hospital back home a few years back. According to the local legend whoever got admitted there for serious ailments never came back alive. One of my mom’s cousins was admitted there on life support system after developed various organ failures post the delivery of a lovely baby girl. Yes, she didn’t make it either. But I was more then thrilled and thankful to be able to have my black tea without sugar, in a worrilessly clean ceramic mug. My (i) phone detected the test wi fi signal that promised to launch services soon. I don’t think the TTE knew about it since he answered ambiguously when I asked him about it.
At the risk of being laughed at ridiculously by a certain “close” friend of mine who happens to be a sincere fan of his, I confess that I felt a bit like much much much inferior and female version of Veer Sanghvi while writing this. So long I say not bad, not bad at all for a country where a toilet tumbler still needs to be chained to the wall for the fear(and certainty) of being stolen. Bravo!