Rail's ways

I was at a station that holds a record. I saw railways staff of the day-shift go home, and I saw them come back to work the next day. I witnessed a dawn and almost the previous dusk. All the trains of the country through that station passed by, two of them twice. About a thousand passengers came and went. It was like men may come and men may go, but I stay on forever.

Yeah, my train was late. Historically.

Some people have the habit of walking as they wait for something or somebody. Likewise, I walked 5.1075 kms waiting – there’s not one meter of exaggeration here. I took 3 strolls from an end to another, each 1.7025 km. this length is what makes the kharagpur station world’s longest. You can imagine my desperation that took me to such extreme lengths (5.1 km to be exact).

Many long hours later, confusion wreaked havoc. My prudent train was numbered 18615. They announced 18616, same name, different direction (down train) – at a platform far away. It took me moments (many) to gather the truth that it wasn’t the train I was waiting for, it was the one I came in a day ago.

Limits had been crossed. The meaning of the word patience had been put to test. Rekindled hope named ‘hatia-howrah’ was splashed with a tank full of water, over and over again.

I realized, I was setting off for the kharagpur station when this down train left from ranchi. I was still in kharagpur, when this train travelled all its way to from RNC to KGP. Limits had been crossed. Now, the limit tended to infinity.

There’s a Hindi saying ‘dene wala jab bhi deta hai, chappar phaad ked eta hai’. I observed that the inverse is also true. True-er.

Staying awake was a losing battle against the ever invincible drowsiness. I had limited weapons. Walking- I had used (to an excess). Talking to anyone, even someone at the platform meant waking him up, everybody was asleep.

Yes, people at the platform waiting for a train were asleep- no announcements were missed, as none were made whatsoever. And over that, people were hopeful, that the train won’t arrive while they slept. [Later, I found that the railways stood up to their expectations. It arrived much after daybreak, when the sun was blazing and the birds were already tired of tweeting their larynxes out.]

I took out the last weapon. Blaring music was being played inside my earphones, and even through that, I caught a sleep or two. It was then that I saw god. I usually don’t believe in god. But it changed. he was sitting inside a mechanical engineering marvel now obsolete. He was dressed in light blue shirt and black trousers- the driver of the train. I would have leapt at his feet, had I not been intimidated by the size of the contraption that the engine was.

I felt relief once inside the train. Momentary pleasures are the best. AC was on, and the sheets that the catering endowed me were wet. Not damp, but wet. I didn’t allowed shiver to get better of me, and wrapped my thin self like a cocoon with the only dry thing, that brown disgusting blanket. Despite all, I slept. After all, I had slept only for 4 hours in the last forty. Momentary pleasures, as I said, are the best. A demon of a woman had brought a kraken of a baby. You can imagine the events that followed.

The train crept as if hell bent on breaking all records of being incredibly late. It slugged like a tricycle, halting at every insignificant station for an hour or so. I could have eaten at the restraunts and dhabas of all the town/village the train stopped at, within the halting interval. Had these areas not been naxal affected, that is. And financial constraints, of course.

Now it gives great pleasure to my eyes to see lush green hilly areas, reminding the fact that hometown isn’t far off. Yet, the speed of the train scares the sh*t out of me.

As of now, I am waiting with bouquet of flowers and that ruddy blanket to honour those delegates of Guinness and Limca records organizations who would be arriving soon to check the credibility of the fact that this train has set a new record for being late. I am their unfortunate witness.