Holocaust of Dreams...part 4

   Another middle age bespectacled person in light cream Kurta was seated at a corner of one of the seat. This guy was again travelling on waiting ticket just like me but was little fortunate to get the seat. He was clever enough to befriend the man of that family on account of his friendly nature and forged smile on his face. He succeeded to have a little piece of that big seat. I felt envy of his amicability and at the same time pity on my timidness which grew with each station that passed without changing the seating pattern in my compartment. He continued to enjoy a comfortable journey without giving any damn to my facial expressions that could display almost all sort of pain in the universe.

   After going through the period of six hours full of agony, anguish, jealousy and inexpressible mental distress our train once again slowed down to halt at the nearing Bhopal station. A fresh ray of hope which has been already betrayed so many times started flowering again. But this time to my surprise the guy actually stood up to alight at Bhopal leaving behind his space which I should grab before any grievous attack by other fellow sufferers. I pounced at that portion of seat which was badly squeezed and molded to the Bum’s profile of that man.

   My chest expanded by inches equal to the inch length of seat I succeeded to encroach from someone else’s territory. With a strange exaltation that was indefinable but can only be compared with the joy of an Indian soldier claiming the Tiger hill in Kargil war I leaned back, closed my eyes, adjusted my bottom to virtually match the impression on seat which has not yet regain its original shape and stretched my legs which were almost paralyzed.

   However this period of ecstasy lasted for very short time and ended miserably when pantry boy at around 8.30 PM brought the dinner as ordered by this family. All of the family members rushed to adjust themselves into comfortable posture for eating. Thus husband, wife and their younger daughter positioned themselves on opposite side of seat while another girl with her Grand parents moved towards my seat. I too shifted slightly to the corner of seat trying to be modest and humble and released major portion of my illegal possession. My gesture of self-abnegation was noticed by the lady seated just opposite to me but with some uncongenial expression on her face. She looked at me as she fetched the rice plate to her elder daughter who in turn was seating beside me.

   Seeing them gorging the food my head turned to the bag inside of which a tiffin box full of chapatti and Egg bhurji was present. Tiffin, my mother had cooked for me so that I do not have to eat the tasteless food at night served inside the train. I was helplessly looking at that bag with a great desire for water that has not passed through my throat since morning.

  
  After dinner the next job was to make bed for everyone to sleep. Man lifted the other side back rest and chained it to top berth thus forming middle berth where he advised the old lady to sleep. The old man had already climbed up the upper berth and was trying to sleep amid his severe coughing. There was no chance of getting good sleep though being so tired I had few naps. While enjoying one of the naps I was nudged by the lady to awake me and instructed to find some other place so that her elder daughter can avail the full length of seat. May be the other reason behind my ouster was the feeling of insecurity with the presence of a stranger at the sleeping place of her teenage daughter.

   The floor space in the aisle was already occupied by poor fellows like me who were enjoying their sleep not like me. Some of them were even snoring in that abysmal situation. May be they had already went through such state in their life….but for me this experience was totally new. I don’t remember at what time the sleep ensnared me and exactly at what place.

   Next day morning I woke up with the hit on my stomach by people moving towards the door to get down at some station. I inquired one of the guy walking past me about the station name. It was Agra Cannt…... (To be Continued)

....Humare faisle hi toh hote hai humari Pehchaan !!

   Today marks the completion of one month of my service at Bajaj Auto. In this one month I came across so many new people and few I am already known to. I experienced a new working culture (Distinctly Ahead), tasted another tasteless food, put on new uniform ridiculed by roommates. So much has happened to be called a CHANGE……!!!.  Still a grim feel like a fish out of water is nicking my heart.

   It’s always a great experience to see how life takes turn and with every turn brings changes in you. The Change which will shape your today and tomorrow….It is what which decides the way you will be reckoned in the society. The way you will be honored or dishonored…Respected or insulted…..Admired or disapproved…..Is it what they call a 'Butterfly Effect'?...Perhaps,.....

   It was few days back while watching TV the above Titled line from some add pulled my attention. The first thing that hit me like a shot was a thought of my latest Faisla….the decisive decision, my switch from Mahindra to Bajaj. I pondered a lot on how this decision will provide new dimension to my career…. my future. Will it be another Ladder to climb up to new grid or be a sting of a Snake great enough for an abysmal fall to nowhere on the board called Life?

Holocaust of Dreams...part 3

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     After scanning the entire compartment in hope to get at least a square inch of place to seat I went on to stand in the aisle next to my luggage with a hopeless sigh. I stood at the same place for almost six hours switching between the awkward postures and creating space for passengers running to relieve their unbearable pressure. A loud and disturbing noise of people engaged in animated discussions was continuously bombarding my eardrums. All I can hear was the dialogue mixture of two languages, an unknown Tamil with strange words and known English with strange accent forming an equally strange dialect meant to deliver only at high pitch. With no other better options available to pass that tiresomely long time I started to decode the sentences giving unwelcome visit to my ears. After sometime I found myself consumed in a thought transference process enabling me to read & interpret the thoughts churning in the brain and the expressions overplaying on the faces of my fellow passengers.

     A Tamil group consisting of 7 people; two senior citizens, one man and a lady in their late thirties, two adolescent girls and one little boy reading some kind of tale book was present in the compartment along with their massive luggage extended to the every nook and corner of the space below lower berths. In India you can easily establish the relations that people from a group shares with almost full certainty on the basis of their behavioral pattern; their demeanor, pitch of voice of individual, age group, etc… etc. Thus it took not more than a minute for me to perfectly guess that a family of three generations was travelling to Delhi; A Husband-Wife with their parents/in-laws, two daughters and a son.

     One thing has drawn my attention when that little boy threw the book he was reading on side table. It was a Comic based on fables from Panchatantra, A legendary collection of short stories composed by Vishnu Sarma to implant moral values into the three dull and ignorant sons of the king. Cover page full with pictures of animals and other characters from different stories was beautifully designed & calligraphed.

     A monkey with his long tail trapped into the rift of a log as he tugged off the fixed wedge out of curiosity............ The lion looking into the deep well and mistaking his own reflection in the water for the big lion........... The hunter following the flight of the doves trapped into the net......... A Brahmin carrying a lamb on his shoulders and being duped by three Thugs .........   A monkey riding on the back of crocodile in a lake unaware of the crooked plan of latter to cleave off his heart for his wife....... 

   A single look at these pictures took me back to my school days. I could see myself seating in the Vth standard class room and our teacher narrating these same stories with moral at the end of each story…. (To be continued)