Night at Railway Station: A True Story - Part II

        
           A cloud of uncertainty covered us on the terrace of the building which housed the ticket counter. The uncertainty fuelled by the need to do something triggered us to take the decision of going to the destination station of the train. Though one part of me was debating about the futility of such an exercise (it is not a bus that you can put your luggage beforehand and claim your seat) the other was gripped in excitement and responsibility to think of the wiser. Thus Anand’s auto zoomed to the nondescript station called Yeshwantpur in that now increasingly growing cold November evening.

           On reaching the entrance of the station did we realize a few things. We realized that it was almost deserted, we realized that it was pretty far from the city and we realized that we did not have warm clothes to protect us from the cold. Bijay, Amlan and me rushed into the station to catch a glimmer of hope if any of securing a seat in the train for Siddharth which was due seven thirty the next morning, less than twelve hours from the then time. But there was none to be. Shutters in ticket counter was down. Any inquiry was met with nonchalance. The committee of three members then took a decision which was to make the rest of the night quite memorable and worth writing about.

          The decision was to stay put, wait for morning to break and people to come, catch hold of some middleman or someone who could ensure a ticket and see to the sure and safe departure of our friend. The following steps were then taken. Anand was first and foremost sent back, paying him was a non issue, because it would be done later. Also he would get the package, the person for whom the whole exercise was running, early next morning. And for the staying part of the decision, there were plenty of hotels in the area where we could put up. But, that was not to be. The reason? Simple. We did not have enough money! So that leaves us with a choice that millions of unfortunate face each day, to spend the night at the railway station.

             Now railway stations are usually away from the city built in vast expanse of land. That makes it susceptible to gush of wind which on that night was chilly. We were hungry and had food in a nearby restaurant by nine thirty. A nice hot dinner was really helpful and three of us were discussing about all sorts of permutation and combination possible about the equation we were facing. As a hotel stay was ruled out we got back to our home for the night, the station. As we got back we saw a motley crowd of people occupying various places which they had earmarked to spend the night at. As we did not have a ticket on any of us, the logical possibility of getting into the waiting room was out of question. So we scanned the whole station, walked several rounds to all nook and corner of it, to finally converge upon this place which would be our bedroom for the night...
(to be continued...)

Night at Railway Station: A true story - Part I

It was the cool Novembers in Bangalore. ‘I feel I should go home’ I heard Sidharth saying as I returned to the flats back in the evening. My suggestions of the same two days prior had fallen on deaf ears. I usually get irritated when such a circumstance arise when things that could have done comfortably take an unnecessary turn of events which brings complexity in its execution. Sidharth was diagnosed with mild jaundice two days earlier. He had put up a brave front and decided to stay back in Bangalore and battle jaundice out rather than going to the soothing confines of home sweet home.

Having known him for years together now, I had made the correct calculations that it was just matter of time when he would get perturbed by the situation and would long to go back home. ‘This is just the initial phase, jaundice would require some restrictions you better book the earliest ticket back home’, I told him. Though he told he would think on the matter I knew he was going to stay back to prove a couple of things.

Now that he has declared on his own that he would ‘anyhow’ go home now, rest of us got into emergency situation mode (such a situation was a favorites as it would bring about some action) to decide about how to get him back. But the punch came just a few moments later, when it was known to us that by the ‘go home now’, sidharth meant now as the next day!! ‘Take a flight’ came the suggestion in chorus. Amlan being the only among us having boarded a plane got a much longed for upper hand and spelt out the details of how to go about it. Where his suggestions got grounded was when it dawned upon everyone that a ticket for the next day would cost about ten thousand bucks! Sidharth did not have that much of money then (ATM’s were not that prevalent then), and neither rest of us were in a position to arrange for that kind of money. Flight plan terminated.

Taking the rail route was the only choice left, which in itself had quite a few sub choices. All information and experiences poured in a matter of time. Of all the only direct trains to Orissa, Yeshwantpur-Bhubaneswar, a weekly thrice train was scheduled for next morning departure at seven thirty in the morning. The train was to start from Yeshwantpur, a place twenty odd kilometers from our place. Obtaining a ticket for the next day was a tough ask, not because the seats would have got booked (the train ran almost empty), but because the time for booking was almost over. It was seven forty and the ticket counter, nearest one being in Indira nagar(eight kms away), would shut down at eight pm.

Wallets were scanned and a handsome seventeen hundred odd bucks arranged. A service of the transporter (read Anand) was called for. His auto rickshaw was there in five mins time. Volunteers for the job included Bijay, Amlan and me. The seriousness one shows and gets into those times is remarkable. You feel that you are not going for a mere ticket booking but on some James bond mission!! Anand was given a detailed narration of why and what we were going for on the way, not because he was inquisitive but he was a part of our matrix courtesy Amlan. ‘Faster bhaiya’, all three of was pressing him as the clock ticked towards 8. But the auto would not move any faster.

Finally we were there at the ticket counter to watch the shutters getting down. As every office would have a couple or set of brokers, middlemen, call them anything, here there was a person who would sneak inside to get your ticket faster and save you an hour or so for a mere fifty or hundred bucks (would a techie in Bangalore mind that!?). He was told about the situation in brief and handed over the money for ticket. He went inside the half closed shutters only returning after a couple of minutes with our money back. (Our collected money to be precise).....
(to be continued...)

Blur

I wake up in the morning with a head heavy as stone
With thoughts haunting, what actually have i done?
The light through the curtains, is piercing through the eyes
Sears a pain, like a needle prick, as to open when it tries.

I know not where I lie on, bed of roses or thorns
Lost I am in the deafening siren inside the head that honks.
Where am I lying, is it a room, does it have a door?
What’s besides me seems to me nothing more than a blur

The alarm goes off, it goes off and still goes off
I feel to bang it on the wall, kill it raw and rough
But the surge jus remains in the upper quarters
Doesn’t translate to the parts other

I want my arms to move, but the arms do not budge
The elbows I try to bend, but they won’t nudge
I try to lift my leg, make some movement
But frozen I am it seems, in the very moment

I attempt to see something, it’s just the walls closing in
Try to look up, I see the scary roof caving in
I sure know am all alone, no sign of life around
Am the only ride in this unstoppable merry-go-round

Through all this scratching thoughts, I take a moment to ponder
What is happening exactly, thoughtfully I wonder
Is it the approaching train or the end of the tunnel light
Is this the end of everything or just the end of the night?