JOURNEY HOME!!!

“AP SuperFast Express”. Everytime I hear this announcement, my countenance wears a satarical smile. I don’t know by what standards the average speed of 65 KMH is labelled as SuperFast.I am at Secunderabad Railway Station waiting to board the afore mentioned Express. This is the first time I am making the journey to home alone. There are certain disadvantages of being alone, not to be able to roam around the platform and follow someone, being one of them. As of advantages, there are hardly any. I try to create some, like, ‘ a girl may entertain being stared at by a single guy than a bunch of guys’, though it hardly seems to be working.

I board the SuperFast Express with the hope of some action inside. (There’s supposed to be more of action in AC coaches as confirmed by my friends.) I double check to make sure what I am seeing is actually happening. It can’t be. Seats 9-10, a couple in their late 40s. Seats 11-12, a couple, again in their late 40s.
Seat 13, a 50 something man. Seat 14, MEEEEE. Seats 15-16, a couple in their late 50s. I’ve heard of nightmares coming true, but never did I think it would happen to me and that too like this. But as always, there is a silver lining among the dark, grey clouds. Seat 14, that’s me, is an upper berth. I push my bags under the seats and get to my seat. There I lie down with my eyes closed. A night out and such a sudden trauma is enough to carry me into the terra incognita of deep slumbers.

A sudden outburst of laughter wakes me up. I’ve been sleeping for over 4 hours. But the view down of middle age people chattering and complaining isn’t encouraging enough and I close my eyes again.

After another 6 hours of sleep, I open my eyes and find a woman staring at me accusingly, “Do you never get to sleep”, she asked. ‘ Ohhh…..kkkk, now’s the time, lets show these oldies some rough youth edge’, thinking this I climb down. As soon as I sit among them, I am offered a great host of eatables. I turn everyone down saying, “I’ve got my own!!!” “Why? Did your mom tell you not to take anything from the strangers”, says an old man, and everyone save me follows it with a laughter (heartening to them but teasing to me). And I am like, ‘for fuck’s sake, what’s your problem, old brat, with yellow teeth and receding hairline ‘.

And as if that session wasn’t gruelling enough, I am now receiving ‘fundas’ of life from three sides, a couple each on my left and right side and one in front of me. It all started when a 50 something lady noticed some undone buttons on my shirt. I agree it was an AC coach, but to the hell with it. I can roam around naked if I wish to do so. And then it is followed by all the ramblings ‘young people do this and that, what do they wear and what they don’t, what and where do they eat, and how they don’t respect elders’.

The only relief comes from the oldest man who for a change isn’t talking about me. He’s babbling about his own son. “You know, my son’s a software developer in Chicago, US. See, this is the LCD screen he’s sent me last week (showing a box, properly wrapped).” I said to myself, ‘beta!! kat le yahan se’.

This time I wake up to some heated arguement. I’ve been sleeping almost throughout the journey. ‘My son’s in Chicago’ Uncle is arguing with a railway employee. ‘ How dare you sleep on my berth that too using this LCD screen as a pillow’, he was shouting. ‘ Uncle, I didn’t notice it was some costly item’, replied the railways employee honestly. ‘ You know my son sent me this LCD screen from Chicago, US’ and thus went on the arguement.

Finally, I reach New Delhi only to find that the connecting train to my home is running 6 hours late. With no other option, I head to ISBT. I board the bus and occupy one of the last seats which will allow me to witness all the action that may take place during the journey (after a pathetic and rather dull train journey). ‘This time I won’t have any interesting stories to tell my friends about my usually adventurous and funny journeys’. But there it is, as soon as I tend to loose all hope, someone throws a rope and asks me to ‘hang on there!! ‘ . The two seats in front of me are going to be occupied only by the most lovely, young ladies (or gals) I’ve come across in a long while. I just wish their mom wouldn’t come and sit with me. But she does. See the situation, two gorgeous gals sitting in front of me with their mom sitting with me. Even before anyone of them say anything I realize, ‘oh, they are a sikh family’. And believe it or not Sikh (or Punjabi) gals are paralleled in beauty only by the Kashmiris. So the journey sees a lot of action in its climax.

And thus I reach my home on a happy note.

P.S : Reading ‘ The Fountainhead’ for the second time. It’s so damn addictive!!!