Life chugs on...

Unless you are an engine driver or a guard waving the flags for a living, it is not often that you would find yourself on a train for 8 consecutive days...

*break for a half an hour chat conversation followed by a 29-minute phone conversation with J*
Having lost that train of thought about the trains completely , let me train my eyes on a fresh start..

I have always maintained that Lady Luck (also known as Luck with the ladies), has failed me time and again, without fail, when i set foot aboard the billowing caravans that run on tracks.. In all of the last month, when train journeys were more the order of the day than any kinda stationary shelter, she has always managed to be conspicuous by her absence, consistently making sure to pied pipe the rest of the female species with her too, leaving me to fume with some dhaadiwallahs and beediwallahs that so often try to chat me up with endearments like 'thambi enna panndraappola', and the like.. Not even guys my age. Not that i am particularly lookin or longing for them either... A guy is certainly not an adequate replacement for a girl on a train journey. period.

When i eventually reached the Delhi rly stn by auto (worth a mention is that the autowallah was an old OLD man, with a osama-like beard), i didnt know wat was coming. Lady luck was practially dead. Picture this.
Of all the days in the english calendar, and of all the trains that Shri Laloo deems fit to criss cross the vast expanse of Mother india, and of all the pitstops that that these trains take time to fart at, the 17th of March, 2005 Tamilnadu Express train was the chosen one. here is how.
As many as 6 second classes coaches were bulk-booked by a home for the old-aged. apparently by some asylum that planned to shift all its inmates from delhi to chennai suddenly, moving my destiny closer to me in effect. And as if that were not enough, 3 of the remaining 5 coaches were snapped up by a school for the blind. This meant only one thing. S4 to S12 was wasteland (unless you are a good samaritan like some of my friends out there..). And being in S11 and the pantry somewhere near S5, i never got farther than that, into greener pastures (the optimist in me..) Worst kannaa Worst..

I have been told that the number 7 is lucky for me ( in hindsight, 7 was my speaker number at FMS), but that simply doesnt justify an atrocious frequency of berth number 70 being allotted to me everytime i ask for an upper berth (for my eunuch-phobia again). being the last berth on the compartment, and closest to the exit means two things. One, i have to sleep like an idiot, using my briefcase as a footrest to make sure someone doesnt whisk it away while i am slumbering away.. and Two, i am CLOSEST to the toilets - western and indian - and thus having to courageously brook the fusion of various foreign fragrances that assault me everytime someone heeds a call of nature.. these indians never bother closing the door behind them.. lil wonder then that the only time i managed some words with females on previous occasions was when some female forgot to close the door, and since the scent from the toilet is crass irrespective of the beauty quotient, i ventured into a polite word askin them to close it. the door, i mean..

On day two, the sun decided he had to do his bit to spoil my party (??) too.. and scorch he did.. I was armed with a copy of Ignited minds by Kalam, but it was my behind that was close to ignition, given the skyrocketing temperatures.. had a real tough time toweling myself with some cold water every second minute.. And as a corollary that i derived from the Alchemist, "When someone up above decides u r gonna have it, all the world conspires to let u face it"..
No lunch on board. Next station in 2 hours. Hungry as hell. meant a long trek to the pantry car, making way for all those oldies, all clad in whites (Life's way of throwing subtle hints?), only to finally find that they had nothing but a loaf of plain bread, with nothing to go with it. a bottle of water might help.
so that was how i finally ended up eating half a loaf of bread all morning and afternoon.. trust me, i made a pathetic picture..
J called in the evening to give me good news - of an FMS admit - that instantly seemed to make life look a lot more considerate... Instantly decided that i deserved better than the remaining half a loaf for dinner, and waited till the next station to get myself some cup noodles, which made for a much better dinner..

Next morning, went back to relive some old memories.. stood at the entrance at 6 Am, and thrusting my face into the biting wind and chilling cold, bravely sang Sonnaalum ketpadhillai and the others... My early morning throat was as coarse as the skin of an old male bufallo sufferin from peptic ulcer, but today, I wouldnt relent. The sun refused to oblige too, and finally i gave up my battle and took my seat, absently singing Yaar yaar sivam.., when suddenly the sun peeked out mischievoulsy from behind the end of the earth... i had goosebumps. 'A thing of natural beauty is a joy forever'. Suddenly, I was in a different league altogether, and read 4 chapters of ignited minds in one go, and alighted a satisfied man in madras central...

The indian railways aint all that bad after all.. We must do something to help the old and the blind.. and on-board railway restrooms are harmless too..

Life chugs along.. lol..