The Burning Train

I find travelling a tedious task. Although I do agree with the romance of travelling, the possibilities of meeting new people, experiencing new cultures, the scenery, the moving trees giving you the sense of time flowing through you like a breeze. But that flow invariably turns into a vortex of boredom draining with it whatever false sense of romance you may have fooled yourself with before the start of journey. Travelling alone is even worse, as it gives you the time to introspect. You have all the time to ask all those difficult questions which you were running away from. Why don’t I’ve a career at 27? Why am I still single? To more philosophical ones like what is the purpose of my existence? And still the more philosophical ones like why can’t I ever get up at 6?
But for all that gloom you can be rest assured that you are gonna meet few jokers you can paint some pages of your blog on. I met mine very early while travelling to Delhi. If you are reading this blog chances are that you have travelled by Indian railways sometime in your life. One word that describes Indian railways is chaos (probably it’s the same word that describes our nation). There is chaos everywhere .There is chaos at reservation centre, there’s chaos at railway platform, there’s chaos at taxi stand. And when you successfully overcome all of these and manage to reach your seat there is chaos waiting for you there. It’s in the form of somebody who claims that to be his seat.
That’s what happened to an aged couple in my compartment. There was a Muslim couple already sitting in what they claimed was their reservation. After series of arguments from both the sides and words of wisdom from other passengers somebody decided to call the ticket checker. Finally the ticket checker arrived and told the Muslim couple that their reservation was in S6 and not in S8 (where the drama was taking place). Poor Muslim guy had loads of luggage as he was apparently returning from Haz. He called on his friends in the other compartment and they helped him in shifting his luggage to S6. Unfortunately they forgot one bag as they left. And that bag created hysteria. Actually it was not the bag that created the hysteria but our Joker did. Yes our Joker who made this blog possible. Our joker (some Jat from Delhi) felt that there could be a bomb in the bag. Vigilante you would say considering the situation we are in especially post Mumbai. But what was sad and disgusting was the reason he gave. He smirked,”Yeh mian logon ka bharosa nahi kar sakte aajkal”. As people around us nodded in agreement I just had one thought what if I was a Muslim. I don’t know what sense of national pride I would have felt if I was a Muslim hearing that. You decide.
After all this conversation somebody went in to search the Muslim family. He caught hold of one of their friends who had moved the luggage and told him about the bag. He came in and took the bag. While going back he left his card and said aloud Just in case you need it. What we need is little common sense. May be, may be not. I don’t know.