A week of disgust, with uptight routine has really taken a toll. That is what making you guys read my nauseating piece (keeping high hopes that many would read). Sitting and wondering what to do next and where to go next is the thorniest fixation to do in life, must admit that “I am as confused as a baby in a topless bar!!” I have no inkling again of what to scribble but will compel myself to do it, as I have lot of gratis time in my hand and an awfully extended weekend to squander.
At times I wonder how people endure in suburbs forces them to reach their dream city to gross livelihood. Every sunrise begins with a wrestle to dig inside the locals trains. It’s very fascinating to see folks manage it with a hop and falling inside on a leg and suddenly looking roughly for seats and all the more appealing to notice the discontent of trailing a seat after so much of exertion . Even ministers after losing polls wouldn’t be so disgusted. Certainly I am also the providential solitary to bestow these performances sunup and sundown. The aggravation of seeing senior citizens dozing and few uncles peeking with their half eye-lid, takes the blood pressure to the crest and my “B+ve” blood gets subtracted to” B-ve”.
Why blame politicians vying for seats, look at us, even we are not bad at all. And once train is on move then commence the nudges and anomalous pushes in order to fit respective legs on a half square feet ground. Star-crossed guys stand by the carrier where all the heavy bags are dumped. They are often addressed with inimitable names viz; “shoo-shoo” (thin air passed from full-size jaws, you can try and match the resonance),”Uncle”,”Bhai-Saab”, “Excuse me”,”Hello”,”Whistle with round lips” etc. Some people just arrive and keep baggage on their “head” and “shoulders” and next it’s their responsibility to shoulder, expressions on their faces are worth watching. Often they give it back out loud by asking “yeh kya hai?” ”Muh nahi diya kya bhagwaan ne?”Mera Kandha kya table hai kya?” With some supplementary cheesy profanity; but the person who does all these “parakram” is very much unmoved by this because he knows that baggage is on his shoulder to administer. He just shrugs with a “Sorry” and keeps himself busy on a dilapidated tabloid. But remember when all these things are taking place, our senior citizens are dreaming of their lingering life in “Paradise”. People who are enviously stranded nearby will deliberately offer jolt on them to bring them back to genuine planet of commotion. However they are too skilled to lever such calamities.
The most annoying element on those poor” baggage- handlers” are when individuals counsel them to fit it in a petite place. They (owners of bags) would just indicate fingers and strive make some room. I would just love seeing such sites and therefore I constantly forfeit such perimeters of local trains. I conjecture how people read newspapers! It’s wrinkled in so many dimensions and read column-by-column. Each and every paragraph is cut impeccably to suit clear reading. I appreciate the tabloid owners for designing in such a manner so that they can read it slickly despite of chaos around. Kudos!!
Often it is also a meeting place for many friends who don’t get time out of their hectic schedules or sometimes when pal is desperate to get a berth easily to loosen up their bumps. When you know somebody you can comfort yourself faster, at least with me it’s like that. It’s also a talent to let the person know which bogie you are in and which side and cleverness is justified when the later able to find it with accuracy. With girlfriends and boyfriends said place is squarely popular and very time saving one. You can always talk to each other when you are in a “Video Coach” (partition between first class ladies and first class gents).Hey; I know in which direction your thoughts are flowing but let me tell you candidly I never tried anything of this sort but witnessed and enjoyed doing it.
The mounting tensions are inevitable when trains are in truth behind schedule and bound to give justifications to bosses, as excuses must have been already exhausted with constant usage of the same. The way they try to touch-base with their respective offices with slightest network on their hand phone is amazing; the shout would really echo in everyone’s ears within the bogie. Person who is lynching at the entrance would chip in with fastidious and brittle dialect saying “Bhai Andhar Jaao”, “Thoda Khisko”,”Aaat madhe chaala” etc. I wonder why they do it; they are ones to get in last and we are equally on top of each other. But it’s the helplessness which I am talking about; people are ready to risk themselves for meeting their purpose of living. For several it is also a sacred place to hymn and some wait for ponds to pass so as to heave sacred flowers in it.
The attempt was to indicate miniature tang of life. When we are in relation to “metro”, local trains are integral part of our verve and in transit we forgo lot of things, as the amount of time we spend inside it is painful but gainful. We draw closer across an assortment of characters with diverse shades imbibed in them. The pleasure of travel with fortitude is fun. It’s just that how one looks at it makes even more out of the ordinary. Especially when guys are travelling in a “Video-Coach”, glimpse of beautiful ladies makes it exciting and vice versa. In reality local trains not only bridges distance from home to office but also it condense the distance between life and happiness.
I read one extract which says ”We die to pass school, Die to pass college, Die to do masters, Die to get a job, Die to earn money, Die to get the needful for family, Die to get married, Die for children’s and finally one day he realises that he only died for everything and forgot to live !! “.
Jeena isika naam hai!!!
PS: I would confess that I fail to fathom whether I made sagacity in my passage although I am trying to better my thoughts.
