Voyage One – The First Mid Semester
“Ok, Tata,Bye Bye, Fir Milenge, Muskurate Raho, Horn Please….”
“Ok, Tata,Bye Bye, Fir Milenge, Muskurate Raho, Horn Please….”
…….
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“Ok, Tata,Bye Bye, Fir Milenge, Muskurate Raho, Horn Please….”
…….
…….
“Ok, Tata,Bye Bye, Fir Milenge, Muskurate Raho, Horn Please….”
…….
…….
(How do I hate to translate those lines even today - "Ok, Tata, Bye, Bye, We will meet again.Keep on Smiling, Horn Please ... All these captions were written behind Indian trucks on those days...)
No, Nooo , Noooo…listening the jingling, .Going through those familiar spine tingling
ordeals and observing the full set of glinting teeth of the Haryanvi week after week, who
were leaving for Karnal, Ambala , Sonipat, Jind, Panipat,Kaithal, Jagadari,Pehwa,
Bhiwani, Sirsa , Hisar, Rohtak, Mahendragarh,Narnoul, Faridabad,
Sisrouli,Nilokhedi,Faridabad, Gudgaonva – with bags in hand and spring in legs – I
thought I would go mad.. I was really peeved by those chortling Haryanvis. One of those
days, I would slap some Gupta or kick some Bansal or box some Yadav –
“Jo hogi dekhijayegi”.(Dare not to care about consequences)
Really, I was getting sick of all these melodramatic scene of shaking hands,
Really, I was getting sick of all these melodramatic scene of shaking hands,
embracing, patting and waiving……
…Really sick …
Home sick…
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God, I heard about Mid Semester.I was made aware of , that was panacea for all the
problems
But where was the mid semester ?
When would it fall from sky ?
Probably on the last day of eternity ….
The reason for growing depression was, I was getting disappointing news from all
corners.
I heard that due to long strike and infinite cuts , it was as good as canceled.
One day, it was was almost closed, packed , sealed … ready to go to nowhere…
That day, Principal, Dr. BK Kaul came to the hostel. No big deal, he was the principal.
He could go any time, anywhere within the premises.
“Aapko bula rahe hain ji”.(Callig you , sir).
Arjun was standing at the door.
Arjun was standing at the door.
That fellow did a tremendous job. He not only conveyed the summon to us at 225, he
went each and every room to call all and sundry to walk down and assemble at Mess.
When we desended there after putting on passable decent dress, most of the in-mates had
occupied the space.
And with them, there we saw, our wardens , BK Koushik and Kachroo standing , with
heads down, shoulder dropping, just like school boys who got the punishment to stand
outside the class.
Why they were standing like this ? Because behind them, their “teachers”, Chief Warden Batra
and (??)( sardaar with thick glasses and staunch moustache ) ,evergreen M.S. Gill and Dr.
D VS Varma were standing.
But they also had defeat and fatigue writ large on their face as if their “class” had failed in exam.
Behind them , there you go….The “Head Master” Dr. B. K. Kaul was standing, tall, with
immaculate business suit , including nice tie and polished black shoe put on, eyes blazing
as if he was going to roast everyone in front of him.
“Oh boy, there is going to be Jalianwalla Baug firing”.I ruminated and stood at the back
row,shame faced , head making an angle of ninety degree with the rest chest (that was the
maximum bending I could do.Chin was scratching .the collar bone.).
The bombardment started.In his bombastic voice , Dr. B.K. Kaul shredded our
unprofessional attitude. His lashing tried to drive home a point or two. Something like
that, just coming out of the school did not mean that you got all the freedom. Getting
admission in Engineering college did not mean that you got fat salaried job. Then he
striked the iron when we were all flushed hot. Bunking the classes did not mean that
clearing the exam was child’s play. Then all of a sudden , he abruptly stopped his speech
and started asking , pointing each of them.
“Would you attend the class?” He asked Sanjay Goswami, who was sitting in the front
seat.
“Yes, Sir”.He said meekly.
“Regularly ?”He probed further.
“Yes sir” he said in even more feeble voice.
“Ok, what is your roll number ?”He asked and noted down in a piece of paper, which he
specially brought for that moment.
Then his roving spot light fell on those,who festooned the front row of mess chairs, one
by one.When his turn came , Naresh Yadav confirmed,”Yes sir, I’ll attend the classes
regularly.”
“Then why did you not attend it yesterday?” The conversation took another turn.
Naresh Yadav was clueless.
Then BK Kaul concluded ,”That was all I wanted to say.”
Just look at the brazenness of the guys. They clapped at the end of his speech as if some
road side magician had just finished the show.
Well, Dr. BK Kaul was unfazed. Then he asked ,”Any question?”
Santosh and few Ram group members were standing near the side wall. Ram Phal
mumbled something and they giggled .BK Kaul encouraged them,”Yes, come on.Don’t
hasitate. Please ask whatever is there in your mind.”
That encouragement was enough for Santosh. He asked ,”Sir, Yeh poochh raha hai, Mid semester milega yaa
nahin?”(Sir, He is asking, 'Will we get mid semester or not?')
In fact , Santosh just bestowed mode of expression to the rumour and general sentiments
of hostelers. The rumour was, since we went for so many cut, we might not get mid
semester.But you may agree that the timing and occasion was lock, stock and barrel wide
off the mark.
Prof Kaul was stunned. He did not have the inkling that all his sermons would be that
much short lived. He was just taking deep breath after the bombastic speech and message
was thrown out of the window.
He asked,”What is your role number ?”
Santosh mumbled something, BK Kaul took out another piece of paper and noted
down.He said in Hindi,”Beta Mid semester to nahin mid degree jarur mil jayegi”.(Son, you will get no mid semester, but mid degree)
What a depressing session it was !
***********************
Runa Laila was sceaming in top of her voice ,”De De Pyar De , Pyar De , Pyar de de”(Give me love, give me love, give me love)
(the original version) through the Chakradhar Bhawan’s stereo.On his tune, Gaikwad was
dancing .
How was he dancing ?
Just assume that some penguin was walking on slippery ice. I mean, at the same
place,”left , right .left”, slipping , regaining the balance, trying to move forward, slipping
, regaing the balance, trying to .. That was one, two, two point five – one, two ….
Why was he dancing?
Because after many many days of hibernate, mess stereo was vibrating in full
volume.Not only Gaikwad, but Vilas Shah , Jayram, Hang Miji and many other KPs were
dancing.Some Haryanvis also joined the fun.The ground in front of Common room
became free for all dance floor.
Why were they dancing ?
The answer was simple – Mid semester was announced.
Open up your wing of imagination and guess except Haryanvi, Chandigarhi,
Delhites,Saharanpuri – who would have reached home first ?
It was Sameer Sardesai.
In the words of Jairam,”The lucky Bas**d.”
We were in the administrative department where Concession Form for Indian Railways
was being issued to us.All the KPs were patiently standing in queue, which was getting
longer each moment. The old clerk Tuteja , looked each of us, verified the form filled by
us.
“Where are you from ? “ He asked Baweja.
“Bhopal”, Baweja replied.
“Nearest railway station ?”
“Bhopal.”
Tuteja checked his address and gave the pink concession form. Baweja was elated as if he
got a toffee. He did not even bother to wait for me and scampered through the corridor.
“Where are you from ?” He asked me.
“Bhilai”.I replied.
He looked into the thick register where address of each KPs were written.
“Nearest Railway station?” He asked again.
“Bhilai”.That was a mistake, for that I was chided by all Bhilaiya seniors.
In that pink red form, he filled up the places and date and handing it over to me.
The atmosphere was serene.Everything was calm , streamlined and functioning in proper
order.Till Sameer Sardesai emerged, just out of the blue.
Today, it might look a lousy question or P. J. to you ,”What nonsense.
“Sir, Airlines ka concession form bhi yahin milega kya ?”
“Kya? Aap Hawai Jahaj se jayenge?”(What ? You are going by aeroplane?)
Today, it might look a lousy question or P. J. to you ,”What nonsense.
To kya hawai jahaj
ka ticket lekar train se jayenge ?Tuteja sahab, aap bhi had karte hain….”
But that time, it was more of a flummox than confirmation. Not only Tuteja, but all of us,
those KPs standing there, asked in unison,”Abe Sameer, tu Hawai Jahaj se jayega?”(Sameer, Are you going by aeroplane ?)
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Getting the concession form was one part. Converting them to ticket was another matter.
There were three parts of Mid semester – Pre Mid semester, Core Mid Semester and Post
Mid Semester. We got the form for “core” mid semester, but There was always at least
two three days “pre” mid semester cut and usually one week’s “post” mid semester
agreement.
Well, obviously, the dates scribed on the concession form would indicate “core mid
semester” that spanned over nine days – five working days and two before and after
weekly off.
For me, though on paper, it took twenty five hours run on the wheel to reach home, yet it
was never less than thirty six hours, considering the fact that there was no direct train
from Kurukshetra. The same thirty six hours it took to come back from Bhilai to
Kurukshetra, though the set of trains were normally different.
So what did we do ?
That was probably the only mid semester when I did not do anything. So, let us drop the
topic and cross the bridge when it comes.
Signature campaign was on rampage in the hostel. It emerged that there were three
signature campaigns going on concomitantly. It seemed that all the three campaigners
had their own certificate on confidence and they refused to join hands on trust basis. All
of them were inducing the guys to sign for “Post” mid semester. Nothing was mentioned
about “Pre” mid semester.It was always understood.
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That was Thursday morning , when Atul, Ajay Saxena, Sanjay Roy, Baweja , Kakkad,Rajoria and Rawat went by Jhelam Express..
Who else were left from MP group ?
Sardaar Sanjeet Singh Bakshi had some relatives in Delhi.So, he left for Delhi.He confided that he reserved the right to use his concession form at some “appropriate”moment. The reason for him staying in Delhi was revealed one month later.He was expecting call letters from NDA and he had given Delhi address as contact address.
Anyway ….
The whole day , I kept on watching someone or another leaving the hostels.My room was uncharacteristically quiet . Atul and Saxena had folded their beds. The room was all “soona soona".(dead silent) .Somehow, I managed that night alone .Next day morning, I thought that I should also leave. But I had done precious little packing yet….All of a sudden, I pumped up all my energies, kept on dumping whatever coming in hand into the bag,kicked and jumped on it several times, resumed dumping.When that bag was full, I pulled another one and at last, I completed the packing ritual.
The booking clerk saw my concession form, he referred his book and asked,”how do you go Bhilai?Via Bina, Katani Bilaspur ?”
“No,” I said,”from Bina, Bhopal, Nagpur.”
Bina , Katni, Bilaspur was the shortest route. The difference was hardly fifty to seventy km.One was 1460 Km., another was 1520 Km.However, via Nagpur route was the much more convenient than the other one.Except a few, all the south bound trains from Delhi were passing through Nagpur. Moreover , the train, by which I was supposed to go, was going via Nagpur. That was the dream train – “138 Down Chhattisgarh Express.”
To board on the train of the trains, I had to reach Hazrat Nizamiddin first.
Forgive me my habit of reminding and checking if you are still with me ….
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Proverbial rabbit in the headlights .. Is that what you said ?
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“Tune khana khaya?(Had dinner?)” Gajbhiye asked.
Though I was hungry , I did not feel like eating anything.
“I don’t think, there is any restaurant in the station.Why don’t you go out and eat something ?” He suggested.
I hesitated at one moment, then lifted those two heavy bags and started wobbling.
“Hey, what do you think, why are you carrying these bags? Relax, keep them here only.”
That was the thing I yearned for, but it was too much to ask a senior to keep watchful eyes on my stuffs. Ragging days were just over and Gajju was someone, whose name was enough to create tremors among Maharashtra and MP juniors.
Here, he was offering his services on his own.
That was hard to believe.
“Jaa Jaa, kya soch raha hai?(What are you thinking ? Go.)” He poked me again,”Keep it here, near my bags.”He himself lifted those bags and he was startled.
“My God”, He left the bags and shook his hands,”These bags are so heavy. What is inside?”
“Books.” I replied.
“Whaaat ?Books?? You are carrying books for mid semester ???”
*****************
If kaleidoscope is the right word, I would like to use it here…
Just outside the station, there was a Mazaar (Hey , not the Nizamuddin Auliya’s
Dargaah.I am talking about within the premises of station. Just outside) .It was almost eleven O’Clock and outside of the station was lit with some tubelights. There was a group of six to seven ,I don’t know , what is the good word, say suttebaaz, yes, six or seven suttebaaz sitting near the Mazaar, carefully avoiding the reach of the tubelight’s white light.. One of them , having big black beard, was smoking with a slim, long tube.I again don’t know, what he was smoking.At the same time, he was busy in reciting “shayari” in his dissonant bombastic voice. Rest others were sharing a different joint , which was being circulated among them.They were listening attentively and every now and then –
were appreciating “wah wah”.
All of a sudden, I felt that I was walking in the medieval time .I don’t think, they were Sufis, or traditional Quwaals – but the way they were immersed in their own globe – was really fascinating.
There were some six seven “big” auto rickshwa around (Big in size), but the drivers seemed to call it a day or doing night shift and were indulged in playing cards.in group of four to five guys.
I crossed the road, went to a dhabaa.The radio was tuned to “All India Radio Urdu Service”. I relished two aloo paratha served with melodious old Hindi songs.
Then I took the water glass , washed the hands just outside the door on one side. Why did I do that ? Because it was written on the wall ,”Gilas main haath dhona manaa hai.(Cleaning hand inside the glss of water is not permitted)”
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When I reached station, the curtain was lifted further.
I saw few more guys had joined Gajbhiye. They not only joined, they had opened their
mats , spread it alongside of Gajbhiye , lying down and chit-chatting.
They were Rakesh Tiwari (my third year senior from Bhilai), Pradeep Sikdar (third year senior from Nagpur and Rakesh Tiwari’s romm mate).Homne ( forth year senior from Nagpur).They came to Delhi in the morning , spent the day in I.I.T. F. and then came to the station and joined Gajbhiye.
When I reached, they all burst into laugher.
Obviously, Gajbhiye had told them my Asiad local train incident.
Rakesh Tiwari asked me ,”Did you get anything to eat outside?”
“Yes”, I said, “I got aloo Paratha.”
He looked at me,”Are you sure ? Like to eat something more ?I have some fruits.”
“Thanks, I am full” I replied.
I lifted my bag, and wobbling , went to the one end of the row .
I pulled out the only thick bed sheet I brought and arranged if directly on floor.
“What? You did not bring the mat or bedding ?” Tiwari asked .
“No” , I said.
“My God, the floor will be really cold.No air pillow ?”
“No”, I said.My palms were my pillow.I put them under the head and stretched myself.
“Hey Sardaar (Kuldeep Singh Saini ) was also likely to come ?” He recalled.
“Lucky fellow.He has got some relatives in Delhi.He will have nice dinner, have a good night sleep and….”
Gajbhiye added, “but will have to come and stand in the queue of current reservation…” and chuckled.
Rakesh Tiwari yawned,”Kal subah uthkar line main laganaa padega.” That was the line of current reservation for our dream train."
Gajbhiye laughed,”Is baar to Hamaare bandon ne record tod diya.Bina concession formke Nagpur Jaakar aaye.”
He was referring to Gaikwad and Harshwardhan Godbole’s visit to Nagpur during the strike period.
Pradeep Sikdar added,”one of them(Gaikwad) had the railway first class pass, since his dad is in Railway.”
Then Gajbhiye added ,”and other went with him as attendant.”Then he asked,”what were their plan Thakur?Are they coming or they have already gone ?”
“I don’t know.”I said,”I think, Gaikwad has gone .However, Godbole had a class test in the evening .But I am not sure.”
Gajbhiye tossed the unpleasant question,”What happens if we don’t get reservation?”
Tiwari dispelled all the doubts,” That is Chhattisgarh express.You will get the reservation .... hundred percent.”
Gajbhiye said,”Otherwise… I don’t know.Once, in summer time, I went from Vardha to Nagpur just at standing on the joint of two bogies.I dare not to look down .I was just looking ahead and holding the handle firmly.Then I decided that I won’t do it again.That was too much.”
Homne added, “I heard, once Sood ( Sanjay Sood, another forth year senior from Bhilai) did not have reservation.He boarded on one reservation compartment, sat comfortably, when asked about reservation, he said that he was going to Faridabad.Then at Faridabad,he went to another reservation bogie and said, he was just going to Mathura.At Mathura, he changed the bogie once again and declared that he was just going to Agra.He kept on jumping from one bogie to another till it was night time….But by that time, he had covered one third of the journey without any problem…”
Now, they all spread on their back, gaze fixed towards sky.
There , I was the only first year guy, so I was radio for them.
“Thakur , ek joke suna(Thakur, tell us a joke).”
“Nahin Thakur, ek Gaanaa ho jaye (No Thakur, sing a song).”
“Nahin be ! Thakur has some very nice original story.Once In ragging days’ he narrated us a story for three hours and we kept on listening. Thakur, tell us a story. Eisi kahani honi chahiye ki Neend aa jaye(The story should be like that , we should be able to sleep).”
So that was the aim.They wanted me to narrate a bed time story so that they could sleep on the hard floor of platform number one, while cold wind blowing,incoming trains honking, near Station Master’s office.I doubt, I had that potent story.
Suddenly Rakesh Tiwari realized,”Thakur,tere paas udhane ke liye chaadar nahin hai ?”
“This is the bed sheet.It is good enough.” I replied, “I’ll roll it like a sleeping bag.”
Gajbhiye was amazed,”My God, I thought you have brought a blanket.I was just like you when I first came to catch the train like this – no blanket. But I had two bed sheets.You are carrying just one ?”
Homne offered, “Thakur, take my blanket.My bedsheet is good for me… thick
enough.Original Kolhapuri.”
Rakesh Tiwari said,”no, Homne saab.I think , I have a shawl.I’ll use the shawl, Thakur will take the blanket.”
Suddenly he asked,’But you are carrying two bags.Two heavy bags….What is there inside ..?”
“Books”, I meekly said.
Platform number one was blasted with roar of laugher.
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The whole night, one engine or the other, crossed the platform aimlessly, blasting the full whistle,”Pooooon,Poooooon”.I kept on waking , glancing at the watch and then sleeping.The last time, I check the time, it was 2.30 A.M. Still, we could sleep for another one hour or so. Then we had to wake up and stand in the queue of current reservation.
I didn’t know when, probably, it was very early morning’s cold wind that I slept soundly.I was dreaming that I am traveling by ship.I could hear the old steam engine’s “Chhuck chhuck” it came from a distance and became louder and louder.I was standing on the deck and the weather was rough . Occasionally, one or two drops from rough sea water would slap my face.
The ‘Chhuck, Chhuck’ was approaching towards me. Now, the droplets from sea water was hitting my face more frequently.Suddenly someone shook me wildely, “Thakur, uth(wake up)”.
It was Rakesh Tiwari.I woke up at the nick of the time.Without thinking anything, I just pulled my bedsheet way from the rush of bucketful of water. One wave of bucketful was followed by another .Like me, all of them had rolled their bedsheets in haste ,watching sheepishly to the sweeper, who was doing his job dispassionately ,mechanically and with full concentration. He would never bother to wake up those,sleeping on the platform. True, he was not paid for it. He was getting salary to wash and sweep the platform. Just because, it was platform number one and near to the office of Station Master. So, he was performing his duty silently and attentively.
Anyway, it was true that he worked as an alarm clock.
“Hey, you sleep like a log.But you know, that is a good thing.” In a bizarre appreciation, Rakesh Tiwari admired my sleep.
It was time to stand up in the queue for the current reservation.
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I swear, I was third in the queue.
That was Four O’Clock early morning.When we reached to the queue, two fellow were already there in the queue.I sprinted and became the third one.
Tiwari was delighted with my spirit ,”Good , Thakur.Yes, you do one thing.You stay in queue, we see that we get a cup of tea.Oh, you don’t drink tea.Ok, what should we bring for you ?”
“Nothing Tiwari saab”. I said.
“Ok, remember, I was standing behind you .Fine?”
“And I was behind him .” Gajbhiye added.
"And after Gajbhiye, it would be me.”Sikdar added.
Homne was just smiling.
They went there for a cup of tea and all of a sudden , all the equation got changed.
A passenger train reached at the platform.
From that passenger train, many passengers got down.
I could recognize four of them – our own , in the words of Shekhar Aiyyar – ‘Amitabh’ – that was, Harshwardharn Godbole , second year’s Prakash Ingole, forth year’s seniors from Bhilai – Sanjeev Sachchar and Shashwati Guha.
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Primary Question was –
Who was Shashwati Guha ?
Secondary questions were -
Did I now her ?
Why did I not know her?
What did I know about her ?
The other way round questions were –
Did she know me ?
Why did she not know me ?
--------Flashback ------
Those questions were posed to me again and again in ragging days. I kept on repeating parrot like line ," I don't know Sir" for answer for any of these question.You try, read each question at a time and see, “I don’t know Sir” would fit perfectly like a glove in the hand.
Well, it was true that on the first or second day, when Roy or Kakkad educated us about our seniors, they told us that there was a girl from Bhilai in forth year.Her name was Shashwati Guha.
I did not have any clue , why that simple fact had added some more agonizing fuel in my already woeful ragging days and peppered me with boiled sugar.
It was one of those days when I was returning from forth year senior, Sanjay Golash's room after raging. Like most of the cases - I used to be ragged alone and it was not exception.
Some Bihari senior, some Sinha( forgotten his name) , caught me.He whistled and called me, smiling , "Kahan se aaye ho , babu (Where are you from,dear) ?"
I just thought , should I jump into short cut and say eternal universal truth which was a fact , everyone knew - but that was an 'answer' - we were educated in ragging days.
He again asked,"You are from first year.Right? kahan se aaya hai (Where are you from)?"
So, by the time, I decided to take a long route instead of short cut.I said, "MP se (from M.P.)".
"Vahan kahan se aaya (Where did you come from M.P.)?"
"Bhilai se (From Bhilai)"I answered.
I did not realize that further probing would stop there only and I was saved from uttering eternal, universal , painful, embarrassing answer.
"Bhilai se ? Bhilai se hai tu ? Shaswati Guha ko jaanataa hai ?(From Bhilai ? Do you know Shashwati Guha?)"
Just see, how the flow of conversation got diverted.
"No sir".
"Have you heard of her name ?"
"Yes sir."
"Who is she ?"
"Forth year senior. sir"
If he were second year senior, it would have been "tadak , tadak", bang and box, but he was from forth year – hardened and tempered – no zeal for hawkish ragging.
He came near to me ,touched my collar,"Abe , kaun hai voh (Lad, who is she?) ?"
"Pardadi (Great Grand Mom) sir, sorry sir, Pardadi" , I immediately corrected my mistake.
“And me ?”
I stood clueless.
He asked .”Abe gadhe(O donkey) , yeh kaun sa hostel hai(Which hostel in this ) ?”
My tubelight blinked,”Oh,Ok, sir, Pardada (Great Grand Dad).”
“So you have not met Guha?”He asked.
“No sir.”
“Would you like to meet her ?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then tomorrow, come near E101 at 12.30 sharp”
“Yes sir.”
Do you think, I was too gullible to venture near E101 next day – not at the appointed time but the whole day?
But then onwards, I started using that fact as my shield to avoid the embarrassing answer.
Whenever someone asked ,”Where are you from ?”.Bypassing the usual “M.P.”, I would straightaway say,”from Bhilai”.
“Do you know Shashwati Guha?”
“Yes sir, she is Pardadi(great grand Mom).”Then I would deliberately add,”But just heard about her...Never met.”
“Ok, come near room E 202 at 2.40 sharp….”
…..”Ok, Come, near Electrical Machine. Lab at around 4.30….”
……….”Ok, wait for me near Prof. Batra’s cabin at 1.45…….”
Only few of them would look at the blue printed time tables pasted on walls at corridor. It seemed that they had the schedule for the classes mapped in their mind.
I always said ‘yes’ , but never went.
Sometimes it backfired also.One day, forth year’s Ahluwalia caught me near
Apollo,”Thakur, I told you wait near “ET lab” at 10-40 day before yesterday. you did not bother to turn up ? Boss banataa hai (yor are becoming 'Boss') ?”
I could not recollect if I ever promised him. I did not evoke to how many guys I had promised.Every one said, “Guha se milanaa hai (Want to meet Guha)?”I always said ‘yes’.
I was just searching for an excuse- Oh yes.Varmani…He won’t probe further.
“Sir, Varmani sir ka tut tha …(Sir, attending the tutorials of Professor Varmani)”
“To kya ham Chu&&&%ye hain #@% (Then are we nuts)?” His frustration vent through the mouthful he delivered.
………..Well, the same Madam Shashwati Guha was standing in front of me.That was the first time, we met.
Sanjeev Sachchar, another forth year senior from Bhilai,introduced us ,”Guha, yeh Thakur hai…(he is Thakur)Bhilai se hai (from Bhilai), first year main hain(in first year).”....
I ragging days, Atul Uprit had taught me , how to nod the head smartly to wish a senior.I nodded my head exactly in the same way, as a puppet , with big smile plastered on my face..
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I said, equations went for a toss ......
By that time, the queue had swelled a little.
When Sanjeev Sachchar was introducing me to Shashswati Guha, Kuldeep Singh Saini also came.Oh boy, you should look at his shirt – fresh, nicely pressed.I could smell fragrance of fresh soap also.He must have taken a nice bath.
In contrast, I was looking as someone just out of pickle jar.
Since they were my seniors, I had to push them inside the queue – not behind me, but in front of me.
Shashwati Guha did not have any tension in life. Since she was a girl, she stood on a separate , privileged queue – exclusive for ladies.Still surprise, surprise , surprise – she was third in her queue.Two more women standing in front of her.
Harshwardhan Godbole was wearing red colur windsheeter. Since I gave respect to the seniors and allowed them to stand in front of me, he assumed it as his right. He also stood in front of me.
Just think, what would have been the public reaction ? Among those guys , standing behind me patiently.
They hawled on me ,”Babuji, ye kya kar rahe ho (what are you doing , Mr.) ? Hum log Chu***ye hain kya jo subah char baje se line main khade hain (Are we nuts, as we are standing since four o'clock in the morning)?” Many of them raised the voice,”Ho,Ho…”
I liked Sanjiv Sachchar, he just looked back and stood there just like an electric poll.
When Rakesh Tiwari and gang came , it was total pandemonium.
Again, they were my seniors, so I had to create space for them in front of me. . At the same time, the guys from behind just kept on pushing me.There was again a big noisy protest.That was followed by massive push from back.By the time, it was five O’Clock and booking window was opened.
The clerk said,”Calm down .Everyone will get the reservation.There is enough vacant seat.An empty new bogie is going to be added.But, be on queue and one ticket per person please.”
I created spaces for so many seniors in front of me. There was already pressure from behind-Push from the front, push from the back.I was squeezed.Every one was squeezed but it was a tussel of nerve.The forward, backward pushing was unabated. Under the relentless intense pressure, the straight line queue buckled to curve and soon it was converted into circle. A fresh slab of mammoth push came from behind and I was out of the queue.
Yes, I was out of the queue.
That was the fruit I received for my sleeping under open sky on platform number one ! Waking up so early !!
Godbole was also out of the queue but he was smart. He circled back, went across the barriers created with iron rods, jumped over the railing and again pushed his way back in the queue. In that process, he jumped three places ahead of where he was.Probably, his experience in the booking queue of Cinema theaters in Nagpur came as handy.
Dejected Thakur moved to the tail of the queue and stood at the back quietly.
The clerk had said that everyone would get reservation. I was pinning hope on his words.
Within minutes, I saw grinning faces of the seniors. Everyone was holding confirmed reservation on his hand. One by one, they lifted their bags and started moving.
When Godbole got the ticket,suddenly Tiwari asked ,”Where is Thakur?”
Thakur was just languishing at the back in the line.
Clearly,Tiwari was not impressed.
He came to me,”What ? you are at the back in the line ? What are you doing here ?”
I just smiled, but Rakesh Tiwari was just annoyed.I could not find any other expression on his face.
“Baaki Bandon ko ticket mil gayaa, tu abhi line main hi khadaa hai … sabse
peechhe…kya problem hai tere saath (All the guys have got the ticket.You are still in queue .... at the tail end ... what is the problem with you ) ?”
As I mentioned in my earlier post,this question was being posed again and again to me,”Kya problem hai tere saath (What is the problem with you )?”
The bigger irritation was still lying ahead.
************************************************************************
Yes, I also got the reservation.
We were waiting at Platform number three for Chhattisgarh Express.As expected, it was one hour late.
If you want to know a little about Chhattisgarh Express, the history was like that –
(Believe me, I know limit of your patience.I’ll sum up in few sentences)
It was started in 1974 to connect Raipur to Bhopal, since in those days , there was no direct train from Raipur , (which was in Chhattisgarh region of M.P. ) to the capital city Bhopal. Then it got extended from Bilaspur , since Bilaspur was the important junction of Chhattiagarh .There, one terminus was fixed and hammered and frozen to the ground.But the other terminus kept on moving Northwards. From Bhopal, it got extended to Gwalior,then from Gwalior to Hazrat Nizamuddin and then from Hazrat Nizamuddin to Amritsar.
What was the morale of history ? Just to make you aware of political compulsion and pressure group in India ?Otherwise, just locate where is Bilaspur and where is Amritsor.
In between, the train assumed different roles at different places.From Lalitpur to Gwalior and from Itarasi to Nagpur, it worked as fast passenger..
But why I was telling to you all this history and geography ? So that you could imagine ,how the train would look like when it reached the platform and you could share Kuldeep Singh Saini’s gargantuan frustration.
Yes, see , the train is coming …Slowly.Just one and half hour late.There was a halt of half an hour , since three new bogies were to be added.We had the reservation in one of those bogies.
So what did Kuldeep Singh Saini said ? He just said,”Yeh Lal dibbe dekhkar vaise hi khundak aati hai…(By just looking at red bogie, I got tense)”
You could say why ? Brick red bogies were synonym with Indian railway.Why had Saini Saab got frustrated just looking at those familiar red colored bogies ?
Say for example – just A.P. Express was coming from New Delhi. Just see the colour of the bogies – wow, shining baby red with yellow strip in the middle , on the window.Wow, just look at that, some of the bogies were blue. two shades of blue- some of them were sky blue and some of them were navy blue….We were just looking at A.P. Express.Since it was Super Super Fast express, halting only at Agra, Bhopal and then Nagpur – it had to be sleek.
Even though A.P. did not stop at Hazrat Nizamuddin, it slowed down a bit.And I heard the familiar shriek,”Ho , Ho ,Ho…”Just see, Bubu Rao, Sudhakar Babu and Hari Chouwdhari – stood there at door of one of the bogies of A.P. , alongwith some seniors.As soon as they saw us – they shouted , ”Hoooooooo”. Boy, they were dancing and their delight enhanced tenfolds when they spotted us.
When the train disappeared within next five second, I understood the deep grief in Saini saab’s voice.
*************************
...Prof Arora had the unique advertising method...
...Prof Arora was a matchless match maker.....
...Prof Arora was living in Regarpura new Delhi....
...Prof Arora had prospective eligible matches waiting in Canada, US , UK....
...Prof Arora was the sole owner of all the walls which were in the vicinity of Railway tracks in and around Delhi.....
"Not only that", Sachchar informed us, "those, who were going towards Rajsthan,those,who were going towards Bihar, Bengal side - they would find the same advertisement, displayed on wall after wall – miles after miles - till the painter might have dropped dead."
If you guys remember, the advertisement was like that , "Rishte Hi Rishte, ek baar mil to len.25, Regarpura , New Delhi.Hamare paas Canada, UK, USA ke rishte hain.( Match and Match ,Docome and meet at least once ..25, Regarpura, New Delhi...We have candidates from Cnada, US and UK) "
Guys, those were pre "Shaadi.com", "Bharat Metrimony " days.Prof Arora was
undisputed king in the domain of match making.
Chhattisgarh Express had crossed Faridabad and it was racing towards Mathura. Porf Arora advertisement were still alive .... No sign of fading ...
“Hum log ek nayi language banayenge (We will create a new language)”, It was Gajbhiye’s idea,”The boy will be called ‘Kooda’ and the girl wil be known as ‘mundi’”.
Rakesh Tiwri added,”I have just translated a film song In Haryanvi .Listen – Thare More beech maan keda hai yeh baandhand anjaanda.Manne nahin jaanda , thanned nahin janda…(Trying to make parody of a Hindi song - Between you and I , how is the strange bonding- neither you know, nore me)”
They tried to set the tone, but could not.
Then they said, “Yeh first year ke bande kaise chupchap baithe hain .. Godbole , joke suna.(Thesefirst year guys are so silent.. Godbole, tell us a joke).”
Godbole just smiled .So the onus fell on me.
As I told you , I was just a radio.You just need to switch on and adjust the station.Rakesh Tiwari said,”Joke…Thakur Joke…”
Gajbhiye demanded ,”No, Gaana (song).”
Second year’s Prakash Ingole recoinciled,”Pahle joke, phir gaana…(first joke, then song).”
Oh God, there was the dilemma.Veg or non veg…..it was understood that no one liked veg jokes.But the problem was – how could I start non –veg joke some situation demanded decency ?
Gajbhiye read hesitation in my eyes, “Don’t worry Thakur.” He lowered his voice,”she is sleeping three coupe away from here.I repeat, sleeping…. Three coupe away.”
Rakesh Tiwari added,”yeah, probably she was tired after the night journey. Don’t worry.Come on.But guys, don’t laugh too much to wake her up….Come on Thakur.”
I started as all the obstacles were taken care of,”Ek baar Morarji aur Charansingh Lodon gaye…(once Morarji Desai and Charan Singh went to London...”
When the joke got over, despite Tiwari’s admonishment, the guys burst into coarse,hard,laughter.
But that set the tone on right track..Rakesh Tiwari said,”Listen Well, once there was a king with small….”
Gajbhiye interrupted ,”No , me first. .It is a small joke.”
Homne had to interrupt,”Guys, it is a long journey.Everyone will get a chance . Ok, Gajju,you start.”
Gajbhiye started,”That was rainy day in college.Girls were crossing the puddle, boys were watching…”
A series of laugher caused Kuldeep Singh Saini and Sikdar to wake up.In the
anticipation that ‘others’ would also wake up in any moment, Gajju directed, ”Jokes bahut ho gaya.Ab Gaana ho jaye.”
Again, they caught Thakur -the radio.Though it was not a secret how much singer I was, though who had been ragged with me , would remember the torture, yet, from ragging days, I did not hesitate for any demand. Joke – ok joke , song – ok song, story – ok story…. Dance – ok dance….Even though they might regret later about their order …
Well, they asked Thakur to sing a song.
Thakur started,”Mere jeevan saathi, pyar kiye jaa.(My life partner, keep on loving...)”
“Jawani deewani , khubsoorat jiddi padosan…(youth is mad, o beautiful stubborn neighbour)”
“satyam shivam sunderam….”
I reached there , then first Prakash Ingole joined me.Then Gajju added his voice.It was just a matter of time that Tiwari and Homne jumped into the ring.Only Godbole, that Harshwardhan Godbole of first year, was sitting idle, just beaming the smile.
*********************
Those days, there was no catering service in Chhattisgarh Express , or for that matter, any other express trains except the super super fast trains.When the train reached Agra, the seniors bought lunch for all of us.When we wanted to pay to the vender, seniors chided us and they paid for Godbole and me.That had happened many a times at many occasions.
That was sort of tradition, that juniors, specially first year juniors would never allowed to pay .We ourselves kept that tradition alive when our time came.
When the tummy was full, you had a backlog of sleep, body tired and climate congenial ,moreover – the most important thing was – you had reservation – the only thing you were going to do is -----
Yes, if you say , railway rule book said, reservation sleeper had to brought down at night and in day time, sitting was to be allowed for other passengers – hell with the any black,blue, red, green rule book.-who cares….There were two sliding screens on the windowone,with the glasses, another one, with the blind. We pulled the blind down and ….
************************************************************************
I don’t know, how long I slept.When I woke up, the train was standing on a
station.Someone had pulled up the blind slider from the window.I could vaguely see Tiwari saab was standing outside.Unless I put my glasses on, I was not sure he was Tiwari saab.So, I put the glasses on.Ok, now , I could even see the station name – it was Bina.Tiwari saab was standing by some tea walah and handing tea cups to the guys inside.Suddenly , the train started moving forward. But Tiwari was relaxed .Some of the other guys, standing on platform, also ran and got up.
“Tiwari saab train chhuti…(Tiwari saab, train is leaving)....”
Then train stopped in next thirty second.. After a few minutes, it started moving back.It reached to the same spot, where Tiwari was still standing in relaxed mood.
Wow, “wah Tiwari saab , Chha gaye… (bravo), you are a magician .” I thought.
..... I passed through Bina station many a times in later year. The train always moved back and forth like this.But I was never enthralled by it, because , next time, I was not sleeping..I could hear the announcement from the lady announcer in sweet voice,”Platform number chaar par khadi gadi Chhattisgarh Express shunting ke liye aage jayegi aur pichhe aayegi.Kripaya shunting ke douran chadhne ka prayatn naa Karen.(The train at platform number four is chhattisgarh Express.For the shunting, the train will move forward and backword.Please do not try to board while shunting)...”
But each time, I used to see the same panic among the passengers, despite the
announcement.
“That is my India”, I always thought ,”here guys are habitual to make decision by instinct rather than information. Probably, that is why the country is able to survive….”
*********
Bina – Lalitpur – Babina – Jhansi ….. Chhattisgarh Express had crossed even the Muraina junction.Now, I could see the “Beehad” of Chambal.
I remember, when I was coming for admission , when the train reached that vary area of Chambal, there was a sort of panic. It was late evening and conductor was moving on the bogie.
“Please switch off the light.Just for half an hour.” He kept on requesting,”That is for your safety.” Everyone knew the trouble.They switched off the light till the train whistle passed the troubled area.
Those were the days of terror of bandit queen - Phoolan Devi.Even though the railway track just touched the Chambal, no one wanted to take any risk.
...This time, it was late afternoon.I just looked outside the window and kept watching the ravine outside of the window.”God, let me have a glimpse of a single dacoit.” I thought.
Madam , yes, my great grand mom, was still sleeping.
*******
“Are rang ka bhang jama ho chakaachak, fir lo paan chabaye ….”
You guessed it right.They again switched the Radio Thakur on. Thakur did not turned his back with sheepish smile.But that song created so much noise that almost every Recker,sane Harshwardhan Godbole, who were awake , joined the chorus in most cacophonous ,boisterous way.Now, the voice of Thakur was lost in the press shop like clanging .In fact, I stopped singing and just moving my lips, still no one detected it.
But it had it’s desired effect.Saini saab woke up.
Not only Saini saab, Sanjeev Sachchar woke up.
Not only Sanjeev Sachchar , Madam Shashwati Guha woke up.
In another ten minutes, all the Reckers joined us in our coupe.
As per the railway rule, it was meant for six guys, but around twelve Reckers were sitting there.
Prakash Ingole followed it with “Saara Zamana Haseenon kaa Deewana…(The whole world, Mad for beautiful girl) Every one was in a mood.One more passenger joined.He was rather hurted by our choice of noisy,freak out songs. He requested , why not we sing “Mukesh ke dard bhare nagme (sad song of Mukesh)”.
“Bhai saab (brother), sorry” Homne said,”None of us are much of a singer.I doubt anyone could even remember the wording of any of Mukesh’s song.Why not you sing a song for us ?”
His ego was boosted.He got elated and sang Mukesh’s sad song.
Now you guess what ! Don’t smile , just say it.Yes, you are right !
The guys requested Madam Guha to sing a song.
They said her voice was sweet and melodious. They reminded that Bengalis had long history of music and arts and right from Rabondra Nath Tagore to R.D. Burman, there was a long list of Bengali music mastereo.And it was impossible that she did not get formal education in music and equally impossible that she did not sing.I was just watching all the twist and turns and forms and transforms of pampering.
Yes, Madam Guha did not disappoint .She relented and sang a Bengali song.
Everyone clapped.
Now, we requested Saini saab to sing a Bhangada song.
Saini saab thought a lot.He said, “ok, I am not a singer, but I’ll tell you how a lottery seller allure people and sell tickets in Punjabi.”
He did the mimicry and we again clapped.
It seemed that we were moving towards decent items and presentation. Then I don’t know , what happened, Gajbhiye started in his bawdy voice,”Laila main laila…”
Again, it was a vociferous chorus...T.T. (Ticket Checker) came. He just checked Madam Guha’s ticket and went away.
By the time, the train hit Bhopal, it was seven O’Clock in the evening.In the twilight, some group of apparently hundred guys was still singing,”Haathon ki chand lakeeron kaa…. (Just a few lines of palm..)”
****************
We were at the capital of Madhya Pradesh.
It it were Bhopal and we did not remember Arun Suchari, that was inconceivable. But I was not sure if Suchari saab even started for Mid semester. He was not in a mood to come for mid semester, since he was determined to sit tight and clear the back papers.
Just one day before starting the journey(The day Atul and Saxena left , leaving me alone in room) , I went to Rakesh Tiwari’s room.Sikdar and Tiwari were busy in packing.Suchari saab was just watching and muttering,”Abe Bahan**don, kal nahaa dhake gaadi main jaana.Yeh nahin ki subah subah chal diye gaadi apavitr karne....( O sis f***r, tomorrow take shower befoe starting the journey ... Otherwise, you will pollute the train...)”
“Hum to roj nahaate hain(We take shower daily).” Sikdar replied,”Aap apni socho Mama (youthink of yourself, uncle).”
“Suchari saab , aap nahin jaa rahe (Suchari saab, you arenot coming ) ?” I asked.
“Nahin yaar (no buddy).”he said.”Is baar idhar hi jame rahne kaa irada hai(This time, I dcided to stay here).”I could sense a tinge of pain in his voice……
“Bhopal aa gayaa …. Suchari ‘saab’ ka shahar..(Bhopal has come Suchari saab's city)” Gajbhiye emphasized on ‘Saab’ in a way to tease me , since we always call him “Suchari saab” with respect.
I really felt that somewhere, from some corner, Suchari saab would emerge. Then I realized that four Bhopali, (except Sanjeet Singh Bakshi) would have reached yesterday morning.What if Baweja, Saxena, Kakkad or Roy- anyone would come to the station by any chance.
It did not happen.
****************
The train took about three to four minutes to cross Narmada river .Then came
Hoshangabad.My reverse journey started.Lying on the birth, I recalled, just four months back, I was on my way to Kurukshetra along with my father.How much water of Narmada had flown under the bridge.Had I changed a lot in those day? Probably …Ragging had changed me a lot….
From Itarasi to Nagpur, the train ran as fast passenger .It was a dark night.Every now and then , it was stopping at some stop.I would go to the mirror at the wash basin near bathroom and looked myself….what if Ma would not able to recognize me ?No, she would , I had not changed that much that she would not recognize her son ….No…
… And I slept….
************************************************************************
Oh God, that was 'V' hour.The time when the attack of sleep was the most
ruthless,remorseless, relentless. However, someone shook my leg.I opened the
eyes.Godbole was shaking me ,”Thakur, are you sleeping ?”
“Yes” I said.
“ Sorry, I have to go.I just wanted to say goodbye and Happy Deewali to you.”
“What ?” I woke up in jiffy.
Chhattiagarh Express reached at Nagpur station at 3.45 in the morning.With my blurred vision, I saw , Homne, Gajbhiye , Prakash Ingole – they were pulling their bags from under the seat and were ready to go out. Almost all the Reckers woke up.To look at the scene closely, I put on my spectacles.
Immediately, I realized that I could see two different scenes, separated by a vertical line.
That was – one of the glasses of my spectacle was broken.
There were hand shakes all round.Homne extended his hand for me , “Thakur, our destination has… oh, what happened to your glasses?”
Kuldeep Singh Saini looked and smiled ,” Oh, it seems that ‘someone’ has winked him.”
Another round of guffaw … early in the morning
Gajbhiye added, “’Someone’ has winked or he has winked ‘someone’.”
Again they doubled up with laughter.Tiwari tried to bring sanity in the group,”Abe ,Dhire hanso (control your laughter) .’Someone’ is sleeping “
They almost fell down with hysterical cackle.
Chhattisgarh Express stayed there for forty five minutes. Nagpur guys were reluctant to go home. Everyone stayed back , except Godbole.Understandably, he was feeling home sick. But others stayed to full forty five minutes and beyound.They had two rounds of tea with remaining guys. Meanwhile, the direction of the engine of Chhattisgarh Express was changed once more. Only when the engine from the other end blasted whistle, they decided to part. Still, Sikdar was telling,”No need to hurry.As per rule they will have to blow three whistle before start the engine.”
But, at platform number one, the warning bell rang for Chhattisgarh Express and
announcement had been made for its departure.Tiwari, Saini , Sachchar – we came back to our bogie.
Three of them stayed at the gate and waived till they could see them in that foggy morning.The gesture was not unilateral.
***********************************************************************
“So , you have put Bhilai as your nearest railway station in concenssion form ?”
“Yes” I said meekly.
“Bhilai or Bhilai Nagar ? Just show me.” Sachchar asked.
I showed him the concession form.It was written “Bhilai”.
In fact, there were three small stations in Bhilai – Bhilai Nagar , Bhilai Power House and Bhilai.But all of them were so small that there would be hardly any quota for train reservation from there.
“Tu to gaya kaam se (you are going to die)” Tiwari paased the verdict.”At least you should have asked us.The nearest railway station is always Durg. Kya?Note it down in your mind for next five year.You know, how far Bhilai station is from the township ? You have to go there on bicycle .There is no other option. No Tempo will go there.and that is at least six km.”
Saini saab tried to pacify,”Let it go.We all learn from mistakes.”
After the twin station Salekasha and Darekasha, which were famous for train derailment.,(i.e., the railway trackes were so wavy with sharp curves and up and down that sometimes or the other, we would hear the stories of derailment, specially , the goods train.) from Maharashtra, the train entered in a tunnel.On the other side of the tunnel, it was again M.P. The driver blew a long whistle , that made everyone to wake up.
“Which station is there ?” Shashwati Guha asked.
“Dongargarh” Tiwari replied.
I could see the hills of Dongargarh.Our destination was near.As you know, in India, there was no surprise to find a big Durga Mata or her incarnation’s temple on the top of hill.That is there in Vaishnav Devi , Hardwar , Shimla, and many other places.
Dongargarh was Vaishnav Devi for Chhattisgarh.On the top of the main hill, I could see the temple of Bambleshwari Devi.
When I was coming to Kurukshetra, Ma had directed me that whenever the train would be in Dongargarh, you bow your head and remember “Maa Bambleshwari” in your heart.She would keep all the troubles away from you.
Yes, four months had passed. She had saved me in all those troublesome time.
In another one hour or so, we were in Durg.
What a familiar scene it was.I could breath in the familiar air.Nothing had changed in all those months.Even Amitabh’s movie poster of “Khuddar” was visible at the same place.That meant it was still running.
Tiwari , Sachchar and Guha were getting down.
Tiwari was annoyed, “Thakur.Why are you not coming ? Don’t tell me that your ticket is upto Bhilai, so you wil go upto Bhilai.”
I just smiled,” No, Bhilai Power House is near to my house.I’ll get down over there.”
Sachchar said, “Are you sure ? does it stop at Power House ? Then it is nearer to me also.”
“Ok”, Rakesh Tiwari said.,”as you wish.Actully, I wanted to finish reservation business here before going home.”
“Me too,” Guha also had the same micro management and planning.
“Ok, Happy Deewali”.Sachchar said.
They went to a little distance , they talked and then Tiwari came back.
“Thakur, do you have twenty Rs spare ? It seems Guha needs for her reservation.”
“No problem” I said and handed over twenty rupees.
************************************************************************
When I got those twenty rupees back in college, then it was another ‘Halla Gulla’ and leg pulling for me. I didn’t have any inkling that the innocuous looking incidence of lending the money to a senior would provide a handle to Atul Uprit and party.
I know, you want to do a fast forward and ask for a snick peek.
Believe me, it was nothing….. Still insisting ? Ok..
It was pretty ordinary Saturday afternoon after Mid Semester.I went to bank with Atul Uprit ( Oh God,why did I tagged with Atul Uprit that day?).I filled the withdrawal form, and waiting near the payment window, in the sun, along with Atul Uprit.It was a slightly cold morning and I was wearing the blue sweater.The person , at the payment window, had really bad eye sight.Even in the broad day light, he would lit a candle , look the bundle of the notes closely, count them at least thrice, then only release the payment.
When Atul was idle , he used to hum sad songs of Mukesh and that was what precisely he was doing Suddenly Shashwati Guha emerged from thin air..She was with her friend,Veena (who later became Veena Madam in our ET lab).
“Hey , when did you come back?”
Though she was asking me, Atul gave the answer, “me? I came two day back and He?He came last week.”
The man on the opposite side of window called ,”token number seventeen.”
I went and collected the payment.
Then he called,”Token number eighteen.”
Atul went to the window.But still, he was looking back to see if I was talking to Madam Guha.I was not talking, just counting my money.
When he came back,I said,”Ok Madam …”
She said,”wait…wait for a minute.”
Now , tell me, what was wrong if your senior ask you to wait and you had to wait?
Her token was called, she went and collected the money, asked for change of hundred rupees and came back.
I knew what was going to happen, but oh God, I wished , really wished that the Earth would crack and either Atul Uprit or me would submerged.
She retuned me twenty rupees , smiled and said ,”Thank You.”
And then she went away.
Atul was envious to the core , probably,”She gave you twenty rupees?.”
“True” I replied, “You saw it.”
“Why?” his tone was - something like , why she gave it to 'you' , why not 'me' ? Just because you were from Bhilai ?
“Exactly.Because I lend her the money.”
“What ?” he could not digest it.I thought he would be fainted in any moment.
And soon, in the MP group, it became spicy rumbling that I lend money to Guha and she returned it. Everyone had tongue in cheek saying that next time, they would also go by Chhattisgarh Express.After all, it goes through Jhansi ( Rawat) , Bhopal ( Bhopali) ,Hoshangabad (Rajoria) , Itarasi (Uprit).
************************************************************************
Back to the train ---
So myself , Saini and Sanjeev sachchar were left in the bogie.It was hardly ten minutes journey.But train was still standing at the platform.
“Why are you carrying all these books ? “ Sani Saab asked me.
I myself was searching for the answer, right from the beginning.It was sure that I might not be going to open any of them.But then why I was carrying them ?
“In first year, I was also like you.Even today, I normally carry a lot of books.It is not that I am going to study all of them.It was just a comfort to mind.Baad main afsos naa ho ki yeh ya voh book kyon nahin laaya(later on, I should not regret , why should I not carry this or that book)?”
Precisely… Thanks Sani Saab , you touched the right nerve.Yes, that was the reason, I was carrying all those bagful of books.I’ll open them or not, might be a different matter.But at least, I should not regret that I did not bring this or that book.
One sardaarji became friend of Sachchar in the train.Sardaarji knew , he would get down in Durg.He was a little disappointed to see that Sachchar changed his mind, since his seat was supposed to be occupied by Sardarji’s family, once Sachchar got down at Durg.
Sardaarji asked Sachchar,”aap Durg main utarane wale the (You were supposed to get down at Durg)?”
“No, I am going to Power House.” Sachcchar said.
“Then go and buy the ticket.The train is about to leave .” He suggested.
“Apni Gaadi hai uncle ji (this is our train , sir).” Sachchar retorted..
After twenty minitues, the train started again, for last lag the its as well as ours journey.
***********************************************************************.
So, I could see the long columns of of smoke and chimneys of Bhilai Steel Plant.Within next ten minutes, we were at Bhilai Power house.That was always colourful.Stack of Ricksha(manual rikshaw) were waiting for us.
That was nine thirty in the morning.I started thirty eight hours back.I spent two nights in journey.The distance was almost 1500 KM. At last, I was at my home town. I could hardly wait to go home quickly. I knew, everyone would be happy.I would be welcome.
*****************************************************************
Babuji’s stern eyes were fixed on my face.
“What is this ?” he asked, pointing a white envelope.
“An envelope.” I answered.Boy, I was barely entered inside, then the bombshell was dropped.
“That I know.That is an envelope.Who is the sender ? “ He asked.
“I looked closely.It was from Principal, R.E.C., Kurukshetra.
“Open it and read”.He ordered.
The envelope was already torn open .Obviously, Babuji had read the letter.
“Read it loud.” Babuji ordered.
I could not.How could I ? When nothing good was written about me.When it was mentioned as if I was the sole responsible for and incited, influenced and directed all the indiscipline, mass cuts, class cuts etc. That had been further elaborated with the proof about number of classes I attended.It was concluded that if his ward , i.e., yours truly, did not change his behavior, he would surely fail in all the exam.
“It has hardly been four months and this is the situation.” He roared.
“Babuji, just listen to me.”
“ I know, what are you going to say.I am also a principal.I know ins and outs of you guys.I know , you will say , everyone was doing , and you were a part of the crowd and there were others not you who were doing that…What else you would like to add ?”
Nothing, that was all.
Silently, Babuji lifted my bag to bring them inside.He was startled.
“Seems to be so heavy.What is there inside ?” he asked.
He himself unzipped one bag,”Books here.” And then opened another bag,”still more books inside.Nothing but only the books…Good.” He smiled,”How long you are going to stay here?” he asked.
“Next five days.” I said.
“So you think that you will complete all the semester’s study in these five days ?”
I could sense a sarcastism in his voice.
??????????
.....Oh God, I know that was the story of every home.Now, I considered myself fortunate than Haryanvis. Believe me…
*****
When Flying Mail terminated at New Delhi, darkness had descended on that glorious city. However, it was the kingdom of illuminations. Everywhere, I could see the lights,Nothing but lights – headlights , street lights, gas batti of road side venders - in rows, in arcs, in circular and other bizarre patterns. The glittering was enhanced further with neon lights and police van headlights - not because of IITF was going on , but Delhi was hosting Asiad '82 after thirty one years and it was fully geared up for that.
The preparation for Asiad was discernible when I boarded on slow moving , some passenger which was going from New Delhi station to Hazrat Nizamuddin. First, I saw Minto Bridge….Then Tilak Bridge…Those seems to be new stations hammered in a hurry to meet the deadline of Asiad. There were green boards whose paints might be still wet , showing Appu with a particular event and direction to reach to the stadium. The red soil, dumped adjacent to the makeshift platform , was still fresh and nicely smelling.
When I reached Hazrat Nizamuddin, it was well past ten.
************************************************************************Forgive me my habit of reminding and checking if you are still with me ….
Why I was at Hazrat Nizamuddin ?
Because, I had to board on Chhattisgarh Express.
What time Chhattisgarh express would leave?
Tomorrow morning– and as usual – whenever we inform someone about timing of Indian railway – we add a peculiar word inadvertently. So, I should say ,”Seven thirty morning, Insha allah”.
Now ? What to do next? I could not kick my butt whole night. I had to do something.
So what would I do in that empty, dark , morose railway station which had eight
platforms but all of them were empty and barely lit?
In that case, the very first thing to do was, to go immediately to platform number one and stay near Station Master’s room.
That was real pain, literally and figuratively. In both the hands, I had heavy , much heavy bags.I had to walk upto the bridge, climb on the staircase one steps at time , walk again on the bridge and came down.
The concept of hiring the coolie did not fit in my travel ethics. If I was traveling with bags, I had to carry them.
I did not realize that the stuffs inside those bags would swell into something so heavy just within five hours and ten minutes. After every ten steps , I kept on taking deep breaths, changed the hands for the bags ( absurd exercise, both were equally heavy), wiped out the sweat,which was not normal in that November night and managed to crawl ahead.
When I reached platform number one, near the Station Master office, I bumped into ( at least) one like minded person. When I looked up - he was third year senior from Maharashtra – Shashikant Gajbhiye.
He was looking at me and I was looking at him.
He seemed to be well settled on the platform. He was carrying small mat , which he laid down on the floor, put on a nice thick bed sheet over it and was languishing cozily.
I knew, that was bound to happen.******************
Proverbial rabbit in the headlights .. Is that what you said ?
The green colour train was dozing at the platform. Wow, look at that… Is that not something – what you call - out of the world !! No ? Yes ? Oh yes !
There were six or seven bogies altogether. On each bogie, you would find Appu , doing something or another. On one bogie, he was shooting like an ace shooter – one eye closed, other close to the barrel. On another bogie, he was wrestling with another hapless baby elephant On the third one, he had Hockey stick in hand , though Jeet Mohinder would tell you that he hold it in a wrong way, on the forth one he was happily kicking a Football.
There was scanty vacillation in my mind that it was one of those much touted Asiad special local train, which had been talk of the newspaper and TV for quite some times.
Many guys suggested that it would provide another alternatives to Delhites. Others wondered why it had not thought of before. Still, others , who for me, looked like “Dada” (Grand Pa) of private bus union, felt that it was a shame for Delhites to accept the “crutch” to support the expected rush during Asiad and those trains should stayed only upto Asiad.
After that, they should recede.
“Gajbhiye saab, yeh Asiad train hai naa?”
Why was I seeking a second opinion?
Why was I seeking a second opinion?
“So, what else?”
That was exquisite , sleek train.Believe me.
“But where is the engine?” I asked.
Gajbhiye was amused,”Have you not ever seen a local train?” he wondered.
“Of course, I have seen.They are normally small trains, halting at each stop…but they would have the most condemned bogies attached to them…”
“Oh no.You have not scene local trains. You have never been to Bombay?”
“No.”, I accepted.
“That explains a lot, why you were searching for engine.Ok, just go around and find out where the engine is.”
I moved from first bogie to second to third.Gajbhiye laughed and called me back.
It seemd that it was the terminus of local train and it just had its last trip completed. The bogies were looking so inviting that I wanted to inspect them closely .
“Gajbhiye saab, may I go in and have a close look ?”
“Hey, be careful. It is traction power operated. It gained the speed within fraction of seconds.”
“No, I think, it would stay here for a while.” I stepped inside.
There were very few seats for sitting and huge space for standing, having overhead hooks.I shook the hooks, it swayed and swiveled .Oh great, it could swivel complete 360 degrees and beyond …I was rotating it clockwise, then anti clockwise….
Suddenly, the earth under my feet shook and swept away.
“Thakur, Jump Jump….” Gajbhiye shrieked frantically. I was in the stronghold of panic.
I did not remember any Newton’s law of motion – how to get down from moving train…your face should be towards engine or in opposite direction. It would be hardly some millisecond when I reached to the door, but till then the train had gained three forth of the speed. Probably my hesitation and flash thinking added few m-seconds to that. I made the decision and jumped.
I was like flying in the air.But ultimately notation of gravity prevailed and the moment I hit the ground, I was just sprinting like uncontrollable car .I wobbled and would have fallen flat, had it not been Gajbhiye.
He was really pretty strong to absorb the momentum of my speed and hold me standstill.
“Bach gayaa tu? (narrowly escaped)”He just said.*******************************************************************
“Tune khana khaya?(Had dinner?)” Gajbhiye asked.
Though I was hungry , I did not feel like eating anything.
“I don’t think, there is any restaurant in the station.Why don’t you go out and eat something ?” He suggested.
I hesitated at one moment, then lifted those two heavy bags and started wobbling.
“Hey, what do you think, why are you carrying these bags? Relax, keep them here only.”
That was the thing I yearned for, but it was too much to ask a senior to keep watchful eyes on my stuffs. Ragging days were just over and Gajju was someone, whose name was enough to create tremors among Maharashtra and MP juniors.
Here, he was offering his services on his own.
That was hard to believe.
“Jaa Jaa, kya soch raha hai?(What are you thinking ? Go.)” He poked me again,”Keep it here, near my bags.”He himself lifted those bags and he was startled.
“My God”, He left the bags and shook his hands,”These bags are so heavy. What is inside?”
“Books.” I replied.
“Whaaat ?Books?? You are carrying books for mid semester ???”
*****************
If kaleidoscope is the right word, I would like to use it here…
Just outside the station, there was a Mazaar (Hey , not the Nizamuddin Auliya’s
Dargaah.I am talking about within the premises of station. Just outside) .It was almost eleven O’Clock and outside of the station was lit with some tubelights. There was a group of six to seven ,I don’t know , what is the good word, say suttebaaz, yes, six or seven suttebaaz sitting near the Mazaar, carefully avoiding the reach of the tubelight’s white light.. One of them , having big black beard, was smoking with a slim, long tube.I again don’t know, what he was smoking.At the same time, he was busy in reciting “shayari” in his dissonant bombastic voice. Rest others were sharing a different joint , which was being circulated among them.They were listening attentively and every now and then –
were appreciating “wah wah”.
All of a sudden, I felt that I was walking in the medieval time .I don’t think, they were Sufis, or traditional Quwaals – but the way they were immersed in their own globe – was really fascinating.
There were some six seven “big” auto rickshwa around (Big in size), but the drivers seemed to call it a day or doing night shift and were indulged in playing cards.in group of four to five guys.
I crossed the road, went to a dhabaa.The radio was tuned to “All India Radio Urdu Service”. I relished two aloo paratha served with melodious old Hindi songs.
Then I took the water glass , washed the hands just outside the door on one side. Why did I do that ? Because it was written on the wall ,”Gilas main haath dhona manaa hai.(Cleaning hand inside the glss of water is not permitted)”
************************************************************************
When I reached station, the curtain was lifted further.
I saw few more guys had joined Gajbhiye. They not only joined, they had opened their
mats , spread it alongside of Gajbhiye , lying down and chit-chatting.
They were Rakesh Tiwari (my third year senior from Bhilai), Pradeep Sikdar (third year senior from Nagpur and Rakesh Tiwari’s romm mate).Homne ( forth year senior from Nagpur).They came to Delhi in the morning , spent the day in I.I.T. F. and then came to the station and joined Gajbhiye.
When I reached, they all burst into laugher.
Obviously, Gajbhiye had told them my Asiad local train incident.
Rakesh Tiwari asked me ,”Did you get anything to eat outside?”
“Yes”, I said, “I got aloo Paratha.”
He looked at me,”Are you sure ? Like to eat something more ?I have some fruits.”
“Thanks, I am full” I replied.
I lifted my bag, and wobbling , went to the one end of the row .
I pulled out the only thick bed sheet I brought and arranged if directly on floor.
“What? You did not bring the mat or bedding ?” Tiwari asked .
“No” , I said.
“My God, the floor will be really cold.No air pillow ?”
“No”, I said.My palms were my pillow.I put them under the head and stretched myself.
“Hey Sardaar (Kuldeep Singh Saini ) was also likely to come ?” He recalled.
“Lucky fellow.He has got some relatives in Delhi.He will have nice dinner, have a good night sleep and….”
Gajbhiye added, “but will have to come and stand in the queue of current reservation…” and chuckled.
Rakesh Tiwari yawned,”Kal subah uthkar line main laganaa padega.” That was the line of current reservation for our dream train."
Gajbhiye laughed,”Is baar to Hamaare bandon ne record tod diya.Bina concession formke Nagpur Jaakar aaye.”
He was referring to Gaikwad and Harshwardhan Godbole’s visit to Nagpur during the strike period.
Pradeep Sikdar added,”one of them(Gaikwad) had the railway first class pass, since his dad is in Railway.”
Then Gajbhiye added ,”and other went with him as attendant.”Then he asked,”what were their plan Thakur?Are they coming or they have already gone ?”
“I don’t know.”I said,”I think, Gaikwad has gone .However, Godbole had a class test in the evening .But I am not sure.”
Gajbhiye tossed the unpleasant question,”What happens if we don’t get reservation?”
Tiwari dispelled all the doubts,” That is Chhattisgarh express.You will get the reservation .... hundred percent.”
Gajbhiye said,”Otherwise… I don’t know.Once, in summer time, I went from Vardha to Nagpur just at standing on the joint of two bogies.I dare not to look down .I was just looking ahead and holding the handle firmly.Then I decided that I won’t do it again.That was too much.”
Homne added, “I heard, once Sood ( Sanjay Sood, another forth year senior from Bhilai) did not have reservation.He boarded on one reservation compartment, sat comfortably, when asked about reservation, he said that he was going to Faridabad.Then at Faridabad,he went to another reservation bogie and said, he was just going to Mathura.At Mathura, he changed the bogie once again and declared that he was just going to Agra.He kept on jumping from one bogie to another till it was night time….But by that time, he had covered one third of the journey without any problem…”
Now, they all spread on their back, gaze fixed towards sky.
There , I was the only first year guy, so I was radio for them.
“Thakur , ek joke suna(Thakur, tell us a joke).”
“Nahin Thakur, ek Gaanaa ho jaye (No Thakur, sing a song).”
“Nahin be ! Thakur has some very nice original story.Once In ragging days’ he narrated us a story for three hours and we kept on listening. Thakur, tell us a story. Eisi kahani honi chahiye ki Neend aa jaye(The story should be like that , we should be able to sleep).”
So that was the aim.They wanted me to narrate a bed time story so that they could sleep on the hard floor of platform number one, while cold wind blowing,incoming trains honking, near Station Master’s office.I doubt, I had that potent story.
Suddenly Rakesh Tiwari realized,”Thakur,tere paas udhane ke liye chaadar nahin hai ?”
“This is the bed sheet.It is good enough.” I replied, “I’ll roll it like a sleeping bag.”
Gajbhiye was amazed,”My God, I thought you have brought a blanket.I was just like you when I first came to catch the train like this – no blanket. But I had two bed sheets.You are carrying just one ?”
Homne offered, “Thakur, take my blanket.My bedsheet is good for me… thick
enough.Original Kolhapuri.”
Rakesh Tiwari said,”no, Homne saab.I think , I have a shawl.I’ll use the shawl, Thakur will take the blanket.”
Suddenly he asked,’But you are carrying two bags.Two heavy bags….What is there inside ..?”
“Books”, I meekly said.
Platform number one was blasted with roar of laugher.
************************
The whole night, one engine or the other, crossed the platform aimlessly, blasting the full whistle,”Pooooon,Poooooon”.I kept on waking , glancing at the watch and then sleeping.The last time, I check the time, it was 2.30 A.M. Still, we could sleep for another one hour or so. Then we had to wake up and stand in the queue of current reservation.
I didn’t know when, probably, it was very early morning’s cold wind that I slept soundly.I was dreaming that I am traveling by ship.I could hear the old steam engine’s “Chhuck chhuck” it came from a distance and became louder and louder.I was standing on the deck and the weather was rough . Occasionally, one or two drops from rough sea water would slap my face.
The ‘Chhuck, Chhuck’ was approaching towards me. Now, the droplets from sea water was hitting my face more frequently.Suddenly someone shook me wildely, “Thakur, uth(wake up)”.
It was Rakesh Tiwari.I woke up at the nick of the time.Without thinking anything, I just pulled my bedsheet way from the rush of bucketful of water. One wave of bucketful was followed by another .Like me, all of them had rolled their bedsheets in haste ,watching sheepishly to the sweeper, who was doing his job dispassionately ,mechanically and with full concentration. He would never bother to wake up those,sleeping on the platform. True, he was not paid for it. He was getting salary to wash and sweep the platform. Just because, it was platform number one and near to the office of Station Master. So, he was performing his duty silently and attentively.
Anyway, it was true that he worked as an alarm clock.
“Hey, you sleep like a log.But you know, that is a good thing.” In a bizarre appreciation, Rakesh Tiwari admired my sleep.
It was time to stand up in the queue for the current reservation.
*******************************
I swear, I was third in the queue.
That was Four O’Clock early morning.When we reached to the queue, two fellow were already there in the queue.I sprinted and became the third one.
Tiwari was delighted with my spirit ,”Good , Thakur.Yes, you do one thing.You stay in queue, we see that we get a cup of tea.Oh, you don’t drink tea.Ok, what should we bring for you ?”
“Nothing Tiwari saab”. I said.
“Ok, remember, I was standing behind you .Fine?”
“And I was behind him .” Gajbhiye added.
"And after Gajbhiye, it would be me.”Sikdar added.
Homne was just smiling.
They went there for a cup of tea and all of a sudden , all the equation got changed.
A passenger train reached at the platform.
From that passenger train, many passengers got down.
I could recognize four of them – our own , in the words of Shekhar Aiyyar – ‘Amitabh’ – that was, Harshwardharn Godbole , second year’s Prakash Ingole, forth year’s seniors from Bhilai – Sanjeev Sachchar and Shashwati Guha.
************************************************************************
Primary Question was –
Who was Shashwati Guha ?
Secondary questions were -
Did I now her ?
Why did I not know her?
What did I know about her ?
The other way round questions were –
Did she know me ?
Why did she not know me ?
--------Flashback ------
Those questions were posed to me again and again in ragging days. I kept on repeating parrot like line ," I don't know Sir" for answer for any of these question.You try, read each question at a time and see, “I don’t know Sir” would fit perfectly like a glove in the hand.
Well, it was true that on the first or second day, when Roy or Kakkad educated us about our seniors, they told us that there was a girl from Bhilai in forth year.Her name was Shashwati Guha.
I did not have any clue , why that simple fact had added some more agonizing fuel in my already woeful ragging days and peppered me with boiled sugar.
It was one of those days when I was returning from forth year senior, Sanjay Golash's room after raging. Like most of the cases - I used to be ragged alone and it was not exception.
Some Bihari senior, some Sinha( forgotten his name) , caught me.He whistled and called me, smiling , "Kahan se aaye ho , babu (Where are you from,dear) ?"
I just thought , should I jump into short cut and say eternal universal truth which was a fact , everyone knew - but that was an 'answer' - we were educated in ragging days.
He again asked,"You are from first year.Right? kahan se aaya hai (Where are you from)?"
So, by the time, I decided to take a long route instead of short cut.I said, "MP se (from M.P.)".
"Vahan kahan se aaya (Where did you come from M.P.)?"
"Bhilai se (From Bhilai)"I answered.
I did not realize that further probing would stop there only and I was saved from uttering eternal, universal , painful, embarrassing answer.
"Bhilai se ? Bhilai se hai tu ? Shaswati Guha ko jaanataa hai ?(From Bhilai ? Do you know Shashwati Guha?)"
Just see, how the flow of conversation got diverted.
"No sir".
"Have you heard of her name ?"
"Yes sir."
"Who is she ?"
"Forth year senior. sir"
If he were second year senior, it would have been "tadak , tadak", bang and box, but he was from forth year – hardened and tempered – no zeal for hawkish ragging.
He came near to me ,touched my collar,"Abe , kaun hai voh (Lad, who is she?) ?"
"Pardadi (Great Grand Mom) sir, sorry sir, Pardadi" , I immediately corrected my mistake.
“And me ?”
I stood clueless.
He asked .”Abe gadhe(O donkey) , yeh kaun sa hostel hai(Which hostel in this ) ?”
My tubelight blinked,”Oh,Ok, sir, Pardada (Great Grand Dad).”
“So you have not met Guha?”He asked.
“No sir.”
“Would you like to meet her ?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then tomorrow, come near E101 at 12.30 sharp”
“Yes sir.”
Do you think, I was too gullible to venture near E101 next day – not at the appointed time but the whole day?
But then onwards, I started using that fact as my shield to avoid the embarrassing answer.
Whenever someone asked ,”Where are you from ?”.Bypassing the usual “M.P.”, I would straightaway say,”from Bhilai”.
“Do you know Shashwati Guha?”
“Yes sir, she is Pardadi(great grand Mom).”Then I would deliberately add,”But just heard about her...Never met.”
“Ok, come near room E 202 at 2.40 sharp….”
…..”Ok, Come, near Electrical Machine. Lab at around 4.30….”
……….”Ok, wait for me near Prof. Batra’s cabin at 1.45…….”
Only few of them would look at the blue printed time tables pasted on walls at corridor. It seemed that they had the schedule for the classes mapped in their mind.
I always said ‘yes’ , but never went.
Sometimes it backfired also.One day, forth year’s Ahluwalia caught me near
Apollo,”Thakur, I told you wait near “ET lab” at 10-40 day before yesterday. you did not bother to turn up ? Boss banataa hai (yor are becoming 'Boss') ?”
I could not recollect if I ever promised him. I did not evoke to how many guys I had promised.Every one said, “Guha se milanaa hai (Want to meet Guha)?”I always said ‘yes’.
I was just searching for an excuse- Oh yes.Varmani…He won’t probe further.
“Sir, Varmani sir ka tut tha …(Sir, attending the tutorials of Professor Varmani)”
“To kya ham Chu&&&%ye hain #@% (Then are we nuts)?” His frustration vent through the mouthful he delivered.
………..Well, the same Madam Shashwati Guha was standing in front of me.That was the first time, we met.
Sanjeev Sachchar, another forth year senior from Bhilai,introduced us ,”Guha, yeh Thakur hai…(he is Thakur)Bhilai se hai (from Bhilai), first year main hain(in first year).”....
I ragging days, Atul Uprit had taught me , how to nod the head smartly to wish a senior.I nodded my head exactly in the same way, as a puppet , with big smile plastered on my face..
************************************************************************
I said, equations went for a toss ......
By that time, the queue had swelled a little.
When Sanjeev Sachchar was introducing me to Shashswati Guha, Kuldeep Singh Saini also came.Oh boy, you should look at his shirt – fresh, nicely pressed.I could smell fragrance of fresh soap also.He must have taken a nice bath.
In contrast, I was looking as someone just out of pickle jar.
Since they were my seniors, I had to push them inside the queue – not behind me, but in front of me.
Shashwati Guha did not have any tension in life. Since she was a girl, she stood on a separate , privileged queue – exclusive for ladies.Still surprise, surprise , surprise – she was third in her queue.Two more women standing in front of her.
Harshwardhan Godbole was wearing red colur windsheeter. Since I gave respect to the seniors and allowed them to stand in front of me, he assumed it as his right. He also stood in front of me.
Just think, what would have been the public reaction ? Among those guys , standing behind me patiently.
They hawled on me ,”Babuji, ye kya kar rahe ho (what are you doing , Mr.) ? Hum log Chu***ye hain kya jo subah char baje se line main khade hain (Are we nuts, as we are standing since four o'clock in the morning)?” Many of them raised the voice,”Ho,Ho…”
I liked Sanjiv Sachchar, he just looked back and stood there just like an electric poll.
When Rakesh Tiwari and gang came , it was total pandemonium.
Again, they were my seniors, so I had to create space for them in front of me. . At the same time, the guys from behind just kept on pushing me.There was again a big noisy protest.That was followed by massive push from back.By the time, it was five O’Clock and booking window was opened.
The clerk said,”Calm down .Everyone will get the reservation.There is enough vacant seat.An empty new bogie is going to be added.But, be on queue and one ticket per person please.”
I created spaces for so many seniors in front of me. There was already pressure from behind-Push from the front, push from the back.I was squeezed.Every one was squeezed but it was a tussel of nerve.The forward, backward pushing was unabated. Under the relentless intense pressure, the straight line queue buckled to curve and soon it was converted into circle. A fresh slab of mammoth push came from behind and I was out of the queue.
Yes, I was out of the queue.
That was the fruit I received for my sleeping under open sky on platform number one ! Waking up so early !!
Godbole was also out of the queue but he was smart. He circled back, went across the barriers created with iron rods, jumped over the railing and again pushed his way back in the queue. In that process, he jumped three places ahead of where he was.Probably, his experience in the booking queue of Cinema theaters in Nagpur came as handy.
Dejected Thakur moved to the tail of the queue and stood at the back quietly.
The clerk had said that everyone would get reservation. I was pinning hope on his words.
Within minutes, I saw grinning faces of the seniors. Everyone was holding confirmed reservation on his hand. One by one, they lifted their bags and started moving.
When Godbole got the ticket,suddenly Tiwari asked ,”Where is Thakur?”
Thakur was just languishing at the back in the line.
Clearly,Tiwari was not impressed.
He came to me,”What ? you are at the back in the line ? What are you doing here ?”
I just smiled, but Rakesh Tiwari was just annoyed.I could not find any other expression on his face.
“Baaki Bandon ko ticket mil gayaa, tu abhi line main hi khadaa hai … sabse
peechhe…kya problem hai tere saath (All the guys have got the ticket.You are still in queue .... at the tail end ... what is the problem with you ) ?”
As I mentioned in my earlier post,this question was being posed again and again to me,”Kya problem hai tere saath (What is the problem with you )?”
The bigger irritation was still lying ahead.
************************************************************************
Yes, I also got the reservation.
We were waiting at Platform number three for Chhattisgarh Express.As expected, it was one hour late.
If you want to know a little about Chhattisgarh Express, the history was like that –
(Believe me, I know limit of your patience.I’ll sum up in few sentences)
It was started in 1974 to connect Raipur to Bhopal, since in those days , there was no direct train from Raipur , (which was in Chhattisgarh region of M.P. ) to the capital city Bhopal. Then it got extended from Bilaspur , since Bilaspur was the important junction of Chhattiagarh .There, one terminus was fixed and hammered and frozen to the ground.But the other terminus kept on moving Northwards. From Bhopal, it got extended to Gwalior,then from Gwalior to Hazrat Nizamuddin and then from Hazrat Nizamuddin to Amritsar.
What was the morale of history ? Just to make you aware of political compulsion and pressure group in India ?Otherwise, just locate where is Bilaspur and where is Amritsor.
In between, the train assumed different roles at different places.From Lalitpur to Gwalior and from Itarasi to Nagpur, it worked as fast passenger..
But why I was telling to you all this history and geography ? So that you could imagine ,how the train would look like when it reached the platform and you could share Kuldeep Singh Saini’s gargantuan frustration.
Yes, see , the train is coming …Slowly.Just one and half hour late.There was a halt of half an hour , since three new bogies were to be added.We had the reservation in one of those bogies.
So what did Kuldeep Singh Saini said ? He just said,”Yeh Lal dibbe dekhkar vaise hi khundak aati hai…(By just looking at red bogie, I got tense)”
You could say why ? Brick red bogies were synonym with Indian railway.Why had Saini Saab got frustrated just looking at those familiar red colored bogies ?
Say for example – just A.P. Express was coming from New Delhi. Just see the colour of the bogies – wow, shining baby red with yellow strip in the middle , on the window.Wow, just look at that, some of the bogies were blue. two shades of blue- some of them were sky blue and some of them were navy blue….We were just looking at A.P. Express.Since it was Super Super Fast express, halting only at Agra, Bhopal and then Nagpur – it had to be sleek.
Even though A.P. did not stop at Hazrat Nizamuddin, it slowed down a bit.And I heard the familiar shriek,”Ho , Ho ,Ho…”Just see, Bubu Rao, Sudhakar Babu and Hari Chouwdhari – stood there at door of one of the bogies of A.P. , alongwith some seniors.As soon as they saw us – they shouted , ”Hoooooooo”. Boy, they were dancing and their delight enhanced tenfolds when they spotted us.
When the train disappeared within next five second, I understood the deep grief in Saini saab’s voice.
*************************
...Prof Arora had the unique advertising method...
...Prof Arora was a matchless match maker.....
...Prof Arora was living in Regarpura new Delhi....
...Prof Arora had prospective eligible matches waiting in Canada, US , UK....
...Prof Arora was the sole owner of all the walls which were in the vicinity of Railway tracks in and around Delhi.....
"Not only that", Sachchar informed us, "those, who were going towards Rajsthan,those,who were going towards Bihar, Bengal side - they would find the same advertisement, displayed on wall after wall – miles after miles - till the painter might have dropped dead."
If you guys remember, the advertisement was like that , "Rishte Hi Rishte, ek baar mil to len.25, Regarpura , New Delhi.Hamare paas Canada, UK, USA ke rishte hain.( Match and Match ,Docome and meet at least once ..25, Regarpura, New Delhi...We have candidates from Cnada, US and UK) "
Guys, those were pre "Shaadi.com", "Bharat Metrimony " days.Prof Arora was
undisputed king in the domain of match making.
Chhattisgarh Express had crossed Faridabad and it was racing towards Mathura. Porf Arora advertisement were still alive .... No sign of fading ...
“Hum log ek nayi language banayenge (We will create a new language)”, It was Gajbhiye’s idea,”The boy will be called ‘Kooda’ and the girl wil be known as ‘mundi’”.
Rakesh Tiwri added,”I have just translated a film song In Haryanvi .Listen – Thare More beech maan keda hai yeh baandhand anjaanda.Manne nahin jaanda , thanned nahin janda…(Trying to make parody of a Hindi song - Between you and I , how is the strange bonding- neither you know, nore me)”
They tried to set the tone, but could not.
Then they said, “Yeh first year ke bande kaise chupchap baithe hain .. Godbole , joke suna.(Thesefirst year guys are so silent.. Godbole, tell us a joke).”
Godbole just smiled .So the onus fell on me.
As I told you , I was just a radio.You just need to switch on and adjust the station.Rakesh Tiwari said,”Joke…Thakur Joke…”
Gajbhiye demanded ,”No, Gaana (song).”
Second year’s Prakash Ingole recoinciled,”Pahle joke, phir gaana…(first joke, then song).”
Oh God, there was the dilemma.Veg or non veg…..it was understood that no one liked veg jokes.But the problem was – how could I start non –veg joke some situation demanded decency ?
Gajbhiye read hesitation in my eyes, “Don’t worry Thakur.” He lowered his voice,”she is sleeping three coupe away from here.I repeat, sleeping…. Three coupe away.”
Rakesh Tiwari added,”yeah, probably she was tired after the night journey. Don’t worry.Come on.But guys, don’t laugh too much to wake her up….Come on Thakur.”
I started as all the obstacles were taken care of,”Ek baar Morarji aur Charansingh Lodon gaye…(once Morarji Desai and Charan Singh went to London...”
When the joke got over, despite Tiwari’s admonishment, the guys burst into coarse,hard,laughter.
But that set the tone on right track..Rakesh Tiwari said,”Listen Well, once there was a king with small….”
Gajbhiye interrupted ,”No , me first. .It is a small joke.”
Homne had to interrupt,”Guys, it is a long journey.Everyone will get a chance . Ok, Gajju,you start.”
Gajbhiye started,”That was rainy day in college.Girls were crossing the puddle, boys were watching…”
A series of laugher caused Kuldeep Singh Saini and Sikdar to wake up.In the
anticipation that ‘others’ would also wake up in any moment, Gajju directed, ”Jokes bahut ho gaya.Ab Gaana ho jaye.”
Again, they caught Thakur -the radio.Though it was not a secret how much singer I was, though who had been ragged with me , would remember the torture, yet, from ragging days, I did not hesitate for any demand. Joke – ok joke , song – ok song, story – ok story…. Dance – ok dance….Even though they might regret later about their order …
Well, they asked Thakur to sing a song.
Thakur started,”Mere jeevan saathi, pyar kiye jaa.(My life partner, keep on loving...)”
“Jawani deewani , khubsoorat jiddi padosan…(youth is mad, o beautiful stubborn neighbour)”
“satyam shivam sunderam….”
I reached there , then first Prakash Ingole joined me.Then Gajju added his voice.It was just a matter of time that Tiwari and Homne jumped into the ring.Only Godbole, that Harshwardhan Godbole of first year, was sitting idle, just beaming the smile.
*********************
Those days, there was no catering service in Chhattisgarh Express , or for that matter, any other express trains except the super super fast trains.When the train reached Agra, the seniors bought lunch for all of us.When we wanted to pay to the vender, seniors chided us and they paid for Godbole and me.That had happened many a times at many occasions.
That was sort of tradition, that juniors, specially first year juniors would never allowed to pay .We ourselves kept that tradition alive when our time came.
When the tummy was full, you had a backlog of sleep, body tired and climate congenial ,moreover – the most important thing was – you had reservation – the only thing you were going to do is -----
Yes, if you say , railway rule book said, reservation sleeper had to brought down at night and in day time, sitting was to be allowed for other passengers – hell with the any black,blue, red, green rule book.-who cares….There were two sliding screens on the windowone,with the glasses, another one, with the blind. We pulled the blind down and ….
************************************************************************
I don’t know, how long I slept.When I woke up, the train was standing on a
station.Someone had pulled up the blind slider from the window.I could vaguely see Tiwari saab was standing outside.Unless I put my glasses on, I was not sure he was Tiwari saab.So, I put the glasses on.Ok, now , I could even see the station name – it was Bina.Tiwari saab was standing by some tea walah and handing tea cups to the guys inside.Suddenly , the train started moving forward. But Tiwari was relaxed .Some of the other guys, standing on platform, also ran and got up.
“Tiwari saab train chhuti…(Tiwari saab, train is leaving)....”
Then train stopped in next thirty second.. After a few minutes, it started moving back.It reached to the same spot, where Tiwari was still standing in relaxed mood.
Wow, “wah Tiwari saab , Chha gaye… (bravo), you are a magician .” I thought.
..... I passed through Bina station many a times in later year. The train always moved back and forth like this.But I was never enthralled by it, because , next time, I was not sleeping..I could hear the announcement from the lady announcer in sweet voice,”Platform number chaar par khadi gadi Chhattisgarh Express shunting ke liye aage jayegi aur pichhe aayegi.Kripaya shunting ke douran chadhne ka prayatn naa Karen.(The train at platform number four is chhattisgarh Express.For the shunting, the train will move forward and backword.Please do not try to board while shunting)...”
But each time, I used to see the same panic among the passengers, despite the
announcement.
“That is my India”, I always thought ,”here guys are habitual to make decision by instinct rather than information. Probably, that is why the country is able to survive….”
*********
Bina – Lalitpur – Babina – Jhansi ….. Chhattisgarh Express had crossed even the Muraina junction.Now, I could see the “Beehad” of Chambal.
I remember, when I was coming for admission , when the train reached that vary area of Chambal, there was a sort of panic. It was late evening and conductor was moving on the bogie.
“Please switch off the light.Just for half an hour.” He kept on requesting,”That is for your safety.” Everyone knew the trouble.They switched off the light till the train whistle passed the troubled area.
Those were the days of terror of bandit queen - Phoolan Devi.Even though the railway track just touched the Chambal, no one wanted to take any risk.
...This time, it was late afternoon.I just looked outside the window and kept watching the ravine outside of the window.”God, let me have a glimpse of a single dacoit.” I thought.
Madam , yes, my great grand mom, was still sleeping.
*******
“Are rang ka bhang jama ho chakaachak, fir lo paan chabaye ….”
You guessed it right.They again switched the Radio Thakur on. Thakur did not turned his back with sheepish smile.But that song created so much noise that almost every Recker,sane Harshwardhan Godbole, who were awake , joined the chorus in most cacophonous ,boisterous way.Now, the voice of Thakur was lost in the press shop like clanging .In fact, I stopped singing and just moving my lips, still no one detected it.
But it had it’s desired effect.Saini saab woke up.
Not only Saini saab, Sanjeev Sachchar woke up.
Not only Sanjeev Sachchar , Madam Shashwati Guha woke up.
In another ten minutes, all the Reckers joined us in our coupe.
As per the railway rule, it was meant for six guys, but around twelve Reckers were sitting there.
Prakash Ingole followed it with “Saara Zamana Haseenon kaa Deewana…(The whole world, Mad for beautiful girl) Every one was in a mood.One more passenger joined.He was rather hurted by our choice of noisy,freak out songs. He requested , why not we sing “Mukesh ke dard bhare nagme (sad song of Mukesh)”.
“Bhai saab (brother), sorry” Homne said,”None of us are much of a singer.I doubt anyone could even remember the wording of any of Mukesh’s song.Why not you sing a song for us ?”
His ego was boosted.He got elated and sang Mukesh’s sad song.
Now you guess what ! Don’t smile , just say it.Yes, you are right !
The guys requested Madam Guha to sing a song.
They said her voice was sweet and melodious. They reminded that Bengalis had long history of music and arts and right from Rabondra Nath Tagore to R.D. Burman, there was a long list of Bengali music mastereo.And it was impossible that she did not get formal education in music and equally impossible that she did not sing.I was just watching all the twist and turns and forms and transforms of pampering.
Yes, Madam Guha did not disappoint .She relented and sang a Bengali song.
Everyone clapped.
Now, we requested Saini saab to sing a Bhangada song.
Saini saab thought a lot.He said, “ok, I am not a singer, but I’ll tell you how a lottery seller allure people and sell tickets in Punjabi.”
He did the mimicry and we again clapped.
It seemed that we were moving towards decent items and presentation. Then I don’t know , what happened, Gajbhiye started in his bawdy voice,”Laila main laila…”
Again, it was a vociferous chorus...T.T. (Ticket Checker) came. He just checked Madam Guha’s ticket and went away.
By the time, the train hit Bhopal, it was seven O’Clock in the evening.In the twilight, some group of apparently hundred guys was still singing,”Haathon ki chand lakeeron kaa…. (Just a few lines of palm..)”
****************
We were at the capital of Madhya Pradesh.
It it were Bhopal and we did not remember Arun Suchari, that was inconceivable. But I was not sure if Suchari saab even started for Mid semester. He was not in a mood to come for mid semester, since he was determined to sit tight and clear the back papers.
Just one day before starting the journey(The day Atul and Saxena left , leaving me alone in room) , I went to Rakesh Tiwari’s room.Sikdar and Tiwari were busy in packing.Suchari saab was just watching and muttering,”Abe Bahan**don, kal nahaa dhake gaadi main jaana.Yeh nahin ki subah subah chal diye gaadi apavitr karne....( O sis f***r, tomorrow take shower befoe starting the journey ... Otherwise, you will pollute the train...)”
“Hum to roj nahaate hain(We take shower daily).” Sikdar replied,”Aap apni socho Mama (youthink of yourself, uncle).”
“Suchari saab , aap nahin jaa rahe (Suchari saab, you arenot coming ) ?” I asked.
“Nahin yaar (no buddy).”he said.”Is baar idhar hi jame rahne kaa irada hai(This time, I dcided to stay here).”I could sense a tinge of pain in his voice……
“Bhopal aa gayaa …. Suchari ‘saab’ ka shahar..(Bhopal has come Suchari saab's city)” Gajbhiye emphasized on ‘Saab’ in a way to tease me , since we always call him “Suchari saab” with respect.
I really felt that somewhere, from some corner, Suchari saab would emerge. Then I realized that four Bhopali, (except Sanjeet Singh Bakshi) would have reached yesterday morning.What if Baweja, Saxena, Kakkad or Roy- anyone would come to the station by any chance.
It did not happen.
****************
The train took about three to four minutes to cross Narmada river .Then came
Hoshangabad.My reverse journey started.Lying on the birth, I recalled, just four months back, I was on my way to Kurukshetra along with my father.How much water of Narmada had flown under the bridge.Had I changed a lot in those day? Probably …Ragging had changed me a lot….
From Itarasi to Nagpur, the train ran as fast passenger .It was a dark night.Every now and then , it was stopping at some stop.I would go to the mirror at the wash basin near bathroom and looked myself….what if Ma would not able to recognize me ?No, she would , I had not changed that much that she would not recognize her son ….No…
… And I slept….
************************************************************************
Oh God, that was 'V' hour.The time when the attack of sleep was the most
ruthless,remorseless, relentless. However, someone shook my leg.I opened the
eyes.Godbole was shaking me ,”Thakur, are you sleeping ?”
“Yes” I said.
“ Sorry, I have to go.I just wanted to say goodbye and Happy Deewali to you.”
“What ?” I woke up in jiffy.
Chhattiagarh Express reached at Nagpur station at 3.45 in the morning.With my blurred vision, I saw , Homne, Gajbhiye , Prakash Ingole – they were pulling their bags from under the seat and were ready to go out. Almost all the Reckers woke up.To look at the scene closely, I put on my spectacles.
Immediately, I realized that I could see two different scenes, separated by a vertical line.
That was – one of the glasses of my spectacle was broken.
There were hand shakes all round.Homne extended his hand for me , “Thakur, our destination has… oh, what happened to your glasses?”
Kuldeep Singh Saini looked and smiled ,” Oh, it seems that ‘someone’ has winked him.”
Another round of guffaw … early in the morning
Gajbhiye added, “’Someone’ has winked or he has winked ‘someone’.”
Again they doubled up with laughter.Tiwari tried to bring sanity in the group,”Abe ,Dhire hanso (control your laughter) .’Someone’ is sleeping “
They almost fell down with hysterical cackle.
Chhattisgarh Express stayed there for forty five minutes. Nagpur guys were reluctant to go home. Everyone stayed back , except Godbole.Understandably, he was feeling home sick. But others stayed to full forty five minutes and beyound.They had two rounds of tea with remaining guys. Meanwhile, the direction of the engine of Chhattisgarh Express was changed once more. Only when the engine from the other end blasted whistle, they decided to part. Still, Sikdar was telling,”No need to hurry.As per rule they will have to blow three whistle before start the engine.”
But, at platform number one, the warning bell rang for Chhattisgarh Express and
announcement had been made for its departure.Tiwari, Saini , Sachchar – we came back to our bogie.
Three of them stayed at the gate and waived till they could see them in that foggy morning.The gesture was not unilateral.
***********************************************************************
“So , you have put Bhilai as your nearest railway station in concenssion form ?”
“Yes” I said meekly.
“Bhilai or Bhilai Nagar ? Just show me.” Sachchar asked.
I showed him the concession form.It was written “Bhilai”.
In fact, there were three small stations in Bhilai – Bhilai Nagar , Bhilai Power House and Bhilai.But all of them were so small that there would be hardly any quota for train reservation from there.
“Tu to gaya kaam se (you are going to die)” Tiwari paased the verdict.”At least you should have asked us.The nearest railway station is always Durg. Kya?Note it down in your mind for next five year.You know, how far Bhilai station is from the township ? You have to go there on bicycle .There is no other option. No Tempo will go there.and that is at least six km.”
Saini saab tried to pacify,”Let it go.We all learn from mistakes.”
After the twin station Salekasha and Darekasha, which were famous for train derailment.,(i.e., the railway trackes were so wavy with sharp curves and up and down that sometimes or the other, we would hear the stories of derailment, specially , the goods train.) from Maharashtra, the train entered in a tunnel.On the other side of the tunnel, it was again M.P. The driver blew a long whistle , that made everyone to wake up.
“Which station is there ?” Shashwati Guha asked.
“Dongargarh” Tiwari replied.
I could see the hills of Dongargarh.Our destination was near.As you know, in India, there was no surprise to find a big Durga Mata or her incarnation’s temple on the top of hill.That is there in Vaishnav Devi , Hardwar , Shimla, and many other places.
Dongargarh was Vaishnav Devi for Chhattisgarh.On the top of the main hill, I could see the temple of Bambleshwari Devi.
When I was coming to Kurukshetra, Ma had directed me that whenever the train would be in Dongargarh, you bow your head and remember “Maa Bambleshwari” in your heart.She would keep all the troubles away from you.
Yes, four months had passed. She had saved me in all those troublesome time.
In another one hour or so, we were in Durg.
What a familiar scene it was.I could breath in the familiar air.Nothing had changed in all those months.Even Amitabh’s movie poster of “Khuddar” was visible at the same place.That meant it was still running.
Tiwari , Sachchar and Guha were getting down.
Tiwari was annoyed, “Thakur.Why are you not coming ? Don’t tell me that your ticket is upto Bhilai, so you wil go upto Bhilai.”
I just smiled,” No, Bhilai Power House is near to my house.I’ll get down over there.”
Sachchar said, “Are you sure ? does it stop at Power House ? Then it is nearer to me also.”
“Ok”, Rakesh Tiwari said.,”as you wish.Actully, I wanted to finish reservation business here before going home.”
“Me too,” Guha also had the same micro management and planning.
“Ok, Happy Deewali”.Sachchar said.
They went to a little distance , they talked and then Tiwari came back.
“Thakur, do you have twenty Rs spare ? It seems Guha needs for her reservation.”
“No problem” I said and handed over twenty rupees.
************************************************************************
When I got those twenty rupees back in college, then it was another ‘Halla Gulla’ and leg pulling for me. I didn’t have any inkling that the innocuous looking incidence of lending the money to a senior would provide a handle to Atul Uprit and party.
I know, you want to do a fast forward and ask for a snick peek.
Believe me, it was nothing….. Still insisting ? Ok..
It was pretty ordinary Saturday afternoon after Mid Semester.I went to bank with Atul Uprit ( Oh God,why did I tagged with Atul Uprit that day?).I filled the withdrawal form, and waiting near the payment window, in the sun, along with Atul Uprit.It was a slightly cold morning and I was wearing the blue sweater.The person , at the payment window, had really bad eye sight.Even in the broad day light, he would lit a candle , look the bundle of the notes closely, count them at least thrice, then only release the payment.
When Atul was idle , he used to hum sad songs of Mukesh and that was what precisely he was doing Suddenly Shashwati Guha emerged from thin air..She was with her friend,Veena (who later became Veena Madam in our ET lab).
“Hey , when did you come back?”
Though she was asking me, Atul gave the answer, “me? I came two day back and He?He came last week.”
The man on the opposite side of window called ,”token number seventeen.”
I went and collected the payment.
Then he called,”Token number eighteen.”
Atul went to the window.But still, he was looking back to see if I was talking to Madam Guha.I was not talking, just counting my money.
When he came back,I said,”Ok Madam …”
She said,”wait…wait for a minute.”
Now , tell me, what was wrong if your senior ask you to wait and you had to wait?
Her token was called, she went and collected the money, asked for change of hundred rupees and came back.
I knew what was going to happen, but oh God, I wished , really wished that the Earth would crack and either Atul Uprit or me would submerged.
She retuned me twenty rupees , smiled and said ,”Thank You.”
And then she went away.
Atul was envious to the core , probably,”She gave you twenty rupees?.”
“True” I replied, “You saw it.”
“Why?” his tone was - something like , why she gave it to 'you' , why not 'me' ? Just because you were from Bhilai ?
“Exactly.Because I lend her the money.”
“What ?” he could not digest it.I thought he would be fainted in any moment.
And soon, in the MP group, it became spicy rumbling that I lend money to Guha and she returned it. Everyone had tongue in cheek saying that next time, they would also go by Chhattisgarh Express.After all, it goes through Jhansi ( Rawat) , Bhopal ( Bhopali) ,Hoshangabad (Rajoria) , Itarasi (Uprit).
************************************************************************
Back to the train ---
So myself , Saini and Sanjeev sachchar were left in the bogie.It was hardly ten minutes journey.But train was still standing at the platform.
“Why are you carrying all these books ? “ Sani Saab asked me.
I myself was searching for the answer, right from the beginning.It was sure that I might not be going to open any of them.But then why I was carrying them ?
“In first year, I was also like you.Even today, I normally carry a lot of books.It is not that I am going to study all of them.It was just a comfort to mind.Baad main afsos naa ho ki yeh ya voh book kyon nahin laaya(later on, I should not regret , why should I not carry this or that book)?”
Precisely… Thanks Sani Saab , you touched the right nerve.Yes, that was the reason, I was carrying all those bagful of books.I’ll open them or not, might be a different matter.But at least, I should not regret that I did not bring this or that book.
One sardaarji became friend of Sachchar in the train.Sardaarji knew , he would get down in Durg.He was a little disappointed to see that Sachchar changed his mind, since his seat was supposed to be occupied by Sardarji’s family, once Sachchar got down at Durg.
Sardaarji asked Sachchar,”aap Durg main utarane wale the (You were supposed to get down at Durg)?”
“No, I am going to Power House.” Sachcchar said.
“Then go and buy the ticket.The train is about to leave .” He suggested.
“Apni Gaadi hai uncle ji (this is our train , sir).” Sachchar retorted..
After twenty minitues, the train started again, for last lag the its as well as ours journey.
***********************************************************************.
So, I could see the long columns of of smoke and chimneys of Bhilai Steel Plant.Within next ten minutes, we were at Bhilai Power house.That was always colourful.Stack of Ricksha(manual rikshaw) were waiting for us.
That was nine thirty in the morning.I started thirty eight hours back.I spent two nights in journey.The distance was almost 1500 KM. At last, I was at my home town. I could hardly wait to go home quickly. I knew, everyone would be happy.I would be welcome.
*****************************************************************
Babuji’s stern eyes were fixed on my face.
“What is this ?” he asked, pointing a white envelope.
“An envelope.” I answered.Boy, I was barely entered inside, then the bombshell was dropped.
“That I know.That is an envelope.Who is the sender ? “ He asked.
“I looked closely.It was from Principal, R.E.C., Kurukshetra.
“Open it and read”.He ordered.
The envelope was already torn open .Obviously, Babuji had read the letter.
“Read it loud.” Babuji ordered.
I could not.How could I ? When nothing good was written about me.When it was mentioned as if I was the sole responsible for and incited, influenced and directed all the indiscipline, mass cuts, class cuts etc. That had been further elaborated with the proof about number of classes I attended.It was concluded that if his ward , i.e., yours truly, did not change his behavior, he would surely fail in all the exam.
“It has hardly been four months and this is the situation.” He roared.
“Babuji, just listen to me.”
“ I know, what are you going to say.I am also a principal.I know ins and outs of you guys.I know , you will say , everyone was doing , and you were a part of the crowd and there were others not you who were doing that…What else you would like to add ?”
Nothing, that was all.
Silently, Babuji lifted my bag to bring them inside.He was startled.
“Seems to be so heavy.What is there inside ?” he asked.
He himself unzipped one bag,”Books here.” And then opened another bag,”still more books inside.Nothing but only the books…Good.” He smiled,”How long you are going to stay here?” he asked.
“Next five days.” I said.
“So you think that you will complete all the semester’s study in these five days ?”
I could sense a sarcastism in his voice.
??????????
.....Oh God, I know that was the story of every home.Now, I considered myself fortunate than Haryanvis. Believe me…
*****
*
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