Well this is how it begins… I know most of you don’t care that it’s my first blog. But I do and since I control things here you can’t do anything except… well, read on.
So first things first… Went to pick my mother up from the Nizamuddin railway station as she was coming back to Delhi from Pune. (I know, I know… but she’s scared of flying and I can’t change her ways at the age of 57 and I will always the lose the argument about costs right? Also office was paying for the trip and the pricks (read LIC) don’t pay airfare only ’second AC’… so Ma wins on all counts here) So back to the story… like a good boy (yes yes, boy… sorry my blog and at 28 I can be a boy here if I want)… so anyways like a good boy I went to get a platform ticket… Like a good boy I stood in the line with about 20 guys in front and of course, the ‘ladies’ line predating the same window.
Now while standing there waiting and trying not to breathe (I am sorry but a spade’s a spade, all of them did stink… well most of them) Now if you have ever been to a railway station recently ( I highly doubt) but if you have then you have to have searched around for terrorists and those nifty little bomb placers who are trying to blend in before their ghastly act but you obviously feel that you have an eye to locate such people especially because you’ve seen some sketches on TV and all terrorists look exactly the same… You also look for unattended luggage and you always spot it, your heart skips a beat, you look around for a cop, you contemplate forgetting about the platform ticket but you’ve spent 10 minutes and there are just 8 people + the ‘ladies’ line left, in fact at moments you may even think about reporting the matter to cops, if you can locate one. But that would also mean making your personal insecurity public. Between homeland security and public embarrassment you obviouly choose the latter, so you dismiss that idea right away. Chances are that the owner would come and pick it up and you would laugh at yourself and your sudden bout of paranoia, but what if no one comes to collect it while you are there… well in that case you would spend the next 10 minutes (which will seem like at least 3 hours) standing there, deciding not to look at the ‘bomb’ lest the terrorist who’s obviously somewhere in the vicinity watching the ‘bomb’ spots you looking at the ‘bomb’, but you can’t help stealing a few glances at the ‘bomb’.
Your turn comes (finally). Well remember you just asked a lady to get in her line and this was of course spotted by the woman at the ticket counter… she refuses you the ticket as the window is ‘old, disabled and women’ only. Screw the fact that at least 20 non-old, non-disabled and non-women guys have scored at the window just before you! Learn to keep your trap shut. But you don’t, you argue, and poetic justice, the woman you asked to get in line now asks you to get out of the line as obviously you don’t have any business there. 20 minutes wasted, Ma’s train’s already reached, the old/disabled line with only young and healthy men are now sniggering at you and so is the ‘ladies’ line, the lady behind the counter is scorning at you and the lady I asked to get in line… well I can’t see her face as she’s buying her ticket now… I am sure with a huge smile on her face. Well screw the ticket, I’ll take a chance… so much for being a good boy… honesty my ass.
Go to the platform, hug mom take her luggage, look around for the guys who check your platform ticket, come back to the car, breathe a sigh of relief for the first time in the last one hour, spend another 20 minutes getting out of the parking abusing people coming from the ‘wrong’ side… and you remember the ‘bomb’… what bomb… oh that!!! Perhaps it wasn’t, some poor guy who forgot his bag… well until next time at the railway station.
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