It was a mid-summer dawn. I woke up with the regular gurgling and subdued whistling of mynas. Mother Nature remained faithful even on this day, by giving me the wake up alarm. My quarter was in the campus, which was near the bank of river Hooghly and was greener than other parts of the suburb. As a result, I had the opportunity to see Mother Nature up close, cradling in her bosom, a diverse variety of insects, birds and animals. This morning, albeit pleasant as any other, still was very different. I have been long waiting for this day, but on this very day lots of unfinished thoughts are creeping into my mind and preying on my brain cells.
Usually my day begins with a morning walk, followed by little work at home dusting, cleaning, after refreshing, a small breakfast and ready for office. This day, too, was unfolding in the same manner. Reached office sharp on time (as usual), after exchanging greetings with colleagues and subordinates, settled down on my chair, still the precipitancy of thoughts plundering my nerves, disallowing me to concentrate on my task, which includes daily follow up with all pending cases, going through the duty roster, planning for the coming week and interacting with people (part of job of a person posted in a liaison unit). In came Robi-da with his never-ending smile, served my cup of tea in his natural style, a half salute and “Shu-probhat Sir” (Shu-probhat means Good Morning). In last 2 years, I have never seen Robi-da grumbling or cribbing about anything in life, a man of strong character, today didn’t seem like his day. Is it just my feeling that I can easily make out, although he was smiling but he was trying to hide his grim face? Day started and I got caught up with an important task and all those thoughts sprinted off my mind. Whoever came to office today for official purpose came to see me, as if everybody knew the significance of this day in my life.
I was craving for this freedom from arduous life, to do something for myself, to do something out of the normal streamlined schedules. Today, when I am so close to my life’s unfulfilled desire, conflicting thoughts are pinning me, on whether was it right 6 months back, when I denied signing the continuation of service agreement to stay for 5 more years and accepted a voluntary retirement. Perhaps, my decision was right. I had spent a large share of my life serving – serving to different needs of family. Everybody’s wishes have almost been fulfilled and now its turn to repay myself of the hard work of past almost three decades. Till this time I earned my wages, today will be earning my discharge and tomorrow, freedom with all savings of a government official, pension. A few more hours and then I will have all the time in the world. There will no need to race against time, no work pressure. But if I have no work, then, how will I pass my whole day? Probably, I will spend more time with family. Family? But everyone will be engaged with their own work. Who will have time for me? I might be a foreigner in my own home, a stranger in abnormal hours. Oh my God, I have never come across such bizarre thoughts in my life ever.
Morning comes, Mother Nature will again ring her alarm, but alas, this will never be an early wake up call for me, nothing will change in my office, except my presence on duty, around my people, Robi-da’s smile and a half salute. My desk, chair and cupboard in office, everything will be in the same position, except my position.
By the end of the day I was almost through with handing over my charges to one of my colleagues. Everybody in my department was waiting for the get-together that was arranged just to see me off on my last day. Gathering turned gloomy in minutes as if performing last rites of a departed soul. Even though I was trying to change the topic of discussion but everything was in vain. That is when I realized that my thoughts and speech are inseparable. At this hour, on lighter note, the only quote which I am reminded of is by Mark Twain: “There has been much tragedy in my life; at least half of it actually happened.”
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Aboard K9 Down
“Brother, little faster.” someone from the queue quipped. Without slowing down my pace I turned to see on whom the pun was intended. It was directed at the person who was issuing tickets from the other side of the counter. I was fortunate that I didn’t have to wait in queue to buy my ticket, since I had my season pass. Yes, but once a quarter I stand in the queue for renewing the pass. Believe me, the waiting time is not boring because everyone in the queue has something to share. You’ll hear people sharing their previous experiences of buying ticket or commenting on competency of the railway staff or even to the extent of criticizing a political party with politically right (subjective term though) remarks.
Since I had to park myself at the station before the train came, I was literally galloping, my breathing was competing against my brisk walk and I was confused as to who will finally score a win over the other. I was gasping for air when I finally climbed down the stairs of overhead bridge and landed on platform number 2.
While walking (caring not to step over bird droppings or birds dropping over me!) over the platform to find a proper place to wait, I observed a mysterious pattern the way passengers were waiting in groups with a gap of few feet in between, identical to the parade group waiting for march-past (you may have seen it on TV on 26th January during your younger days). Each group seemed to have equal number of heads and to my astonishment they all were discussing (contributing to the discussion) on some or other topic as if they were members of the same family, albeit they were, but of Global family, “Vasudev kutumbakum” as addressed by Vivekananda in one of his famous speech. I didn’t find any reason to join any of the groups, and waited alone in-between. Couple of minutes later, I realized the group gathered some momentum, anticipating the arrival of the train from the sound of the air horn. Within half a minute, the train rumbled past the platform without halting (reminding me of Doppler’s Effect). I could save myself from bird droppings but not from shower of dry dust, courtesy “Galloping Train”. Galloping trains are trains which only stop at some platform and not all.
Finally, the train arrived (K9 Down – From Kalyani to Sealdah, 2 terminal stations in the main line of Eastern Railway). It was quite picturesque view and looked like I had entered painters gallery – the outer walls of the compartment had a green backdrop and had been spray painted with red stains (we Indian’s always believe in natural coloring like betel leaf etc.). I was wondering why do people spend so much time to visit Exhibitions (in search of masterpiece). But please don’t conclude that this is the case round the year. Generally the outer walls (more fortunate than the inner ones) gets a washing during every monsoon. Inner walls had a total different look (painted in dull yellow, probably when coated for the only time, the color was bright yellow and got a dull look with passing time). The wall was meant for everyone other than the passengers. It was up and standing only for the advertisers who paste graffiti. Graffiti varied from addresses of quack doctors, curing secret diseases (such as alcoholism, smoking, etc.) to receiving degrees from universities (I am sure even UGC must not have heard the names of those shady universities).
With the arrival of the train one of the mysteries unraveled. As soon as the train came to a gradual halt, I found all the doors of the compartments falling exactly in front of the groups (commented earlier). I realized, I did a blunder not finding a reason to join any of the groups and stood in between. I realized I was in the middle of nowhere – neither could I avail the front door nor could I avail the rear door. In seconds, the group turned individualistic. After settling, they will look for other members of the group who couldn’t make it, so that they can show their sympathy the very next meeting anywhere.
All the passengers who could board (unfortunately I wasn’t one of them), once again proved Darwin’s theory of “Survival of the Fittest” was right and they successfully crossed the first hurdle. Now the number of hurdles are dependent on number of stations where the train will halt (if finding a proper place to stand is difficult, getting a place to sit is beyond dreams). It is foolish to believe that someone is comfortable inside the compartment. A passenger is only comfortable and safe when he is no more a passenger (till his exit out of the platform).
By the way, that day I had to miss 3 trains. With every missed train, I learnt lessons 1 to 3 on how not to board a packed train. Ok, let me be sincere in confessing, I was building myself mentally. I kept asking myself, why should I always be a Trojan and not Achilles? And there onwards I was Achilles for next 5 years. Yes, I had to pay my part of the price, first time I was victim of pickpocket (lost my ID card and handkerchief from back pocket) and second time one co-passenger tore of pocket of my favorite shirt.
I can still recollect what one of the passengers (foot inside the train, but practically hanging outside the door) commented to another fellow passenger (on the station), when he was trying to force himself inside the train, “Brother do you feel that this bogey is a tin of puffed rice, the more you shake, the more you have space to stuff more?”
Since I had to park myself at the station before the train came, I was literally galloping, my breathing was competing against my brisk walk and I was confused as to who will finally score a win over the other. I was gasping for air when I finally climbed down the stairs of overhead bridge and landed on platform number 2.
While walking (caring not to step over bird droppings or birds dropping over me!) over the platform to find a proper place to wait, I observed a mysterious pattern the way passengers were waiting in groups with a gap of few feet in between, identical to the parade group waiting for march-past (you may have seen it on TV on 26th January during your younger days). Each group seemed to have equal number of heads and to my astonishment they all were discussing (contributing to the discussion) on some or other topic as if they were members of the same family, albeit they were, but of Global family, “Vasudev kutumbakum” as addressed by Vivekananda in one of his famous speech. I didn’t find any reason to join any of the groups, and waited alone in-between. Couple of minutes later, I realized the group gathered some momentum, anticipating the arrival of the train from the sound of the air horn. Within half a minute, the train rumbled past the platform without halting (reminding me of Doppler’s Effect). I could save myself from bird droppings but not from shower of dry dust, courtesy “Galloping Train”. Galloping trains are trains which only stop at some platform and not all.
Finally, the train arrived (K9 Down – From Kalyani to Sealdah, 2 terminal stations in the main line of Eastern Railway). It was quite picturesque view and looked like I had entered painters gallery – the outer walls of the compartment had a green backdrop and had been spray painted with red stains (we Indian’s always believe in natural coloring like betel leaf etc.). I was wondering why do people spend so much time to visit Exhibitions (in search of masterpiece). But please don’t conclude that this is the case round the year. Generally the outer walls (more fortunate than the inner ones) gets a washing during every monsoon. Inner walls had a total different look (painted in dull yellow, probably when coated for the only time, the color was bright yellow and got a dull look with passing time). The wall was meant for everyone other than the passengers. It was up and standing only for the advertisers who paste graffiti. Graffiti varied from addresses of quack doctors, curing secret diseases (such as alcoholism, smoking, etc.) to receiving degrees from universities (I am sure even UGC must not have heard the names of those shady universities).
With the arrival of the train one of the mysteries unraveled. As soon as the train came to a gradual halt, I found all the doors of the compartments falling exactly in front of the groups (commented earlier). I realized, I did a blunder not finding a reason to join any of the groups and stood in between. I realized I was in the middle of nowhere – neither could I avail the front door nor could I avail the rear door. In seconds, the group turned individualistic. After settling, they will look for other members of the group who couldn’t make it, so that they can show their sympathy the very next meeting anywhere.
All the passengers who could board (unfortunately I wasn’t one of them), once again proved Darwin’s theory of “Survival of the Fittest” was right and they successfully crossed the first hurdle. Now the number of hurdles are dependent on number of stations where the train will halt (if finding a proper place to stand is difficult, getting a place to sit is beyond dreams). It is foolish to believe that someone is comfortable inside the compartment. A passenger is only comfortable and safe when he is no more a passenger (till his exit out of the platform).
By the way, that day I had to miss 3 trains. With every missed train, I learnt lessons 1 to 3 on how not to board a packed train. Ok, let me be sincere in confessing, I was building myself mentally. I kept asking myself, why should I always be a Trojan and not Achilles? And there onwards I was Achilles for next 5 years. Yes, I had to pay my part of the price, first time I was victim of pickpocket (lost my ID card and handkerchief from back pocket) and second time one co-passenger tore of pocket of my favorite shirt.
I can still recollect what one of the passengers (foot inside the train, but practically hanging outside the door) commented to another fellow passenger (on the station), when he was trying to force himself inside the train, “Brother do you feel that this bogey is a tin of puffed rice, the more you shake, the more you have space to stuff more?”
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
