Trainspotting

I hate any contact with any portentous amount of bulging humanity; for that matter, trains and public transportation in general freak me out. I really, really have this enormous phobia of the mob--that unruly mass of brainless bodies with only violence and anti-social activities on their minds. Now everybody who commutes, what in Calcutta parlance is called "daily-passengery" knows what an icky, disgusting and vile things trains, buses, metros and things that generally involve lot of people squished in a small closed box-like compartment can be. It not only involves an incredible amount of ingenuity to actually plan, board (or as we call it 'catch') any one of these things with the view of getting a seat, or any standing room space. Trains...well, I am a master commuter, well a junior master at least, have been doing it for a while now, 4 years to be honest. Well, most people try and live in places that will have their own standard locals. Well, they are trains that leave from a certain station to the terminal...say, you live in a place Y and have to commute everyday to another place that is Z, and a train connects you from Y to Z or beyond. So, what happens is that if you have a certain train called Y local, that actually leaves from your home station, you at least stand a chance of getting a seat, or a nice standing room. And as your days as commuter pass, you make friends who save you seats, or ones that get off earlier and you usurp their seats then and so on. It is so, succinctly disgusting. I hate it. I hate the whole idea of having to deviously plan and cheat somebody out of a seat. Well, but i know why we have to do it. It is unbearable to stand or even exist in those concentration camp transportation conditions, i kid you not (those pure souls who float about and do not require the blessing that is public transportation). I know what some people would say to my complaint. Have you come from vilayat? What are you complaining for, huh? To those a*h*s and suckers, i will say, DUCK off (hah)!!! I have every right to complaint. I do, because it is I who suffer, along with zillions of mute, forbearing, patient people, who continuously go to and fro, suffering with a look of accute pain and martyrdom. I protest on their behalf. We suffer and the only thing that we sufferees can do is moan and i will take up that right upheld by the Indian Constitution. So there and up...well, anyway, as i was saying, trains well, ha, ha...its wonderful to get to sit and heaven if you can push and pull and nudge and make your way to the window seat first. Some people are always there to take the best seats, I hate them, but there they are and if I am lucky to ever find them empty, its paradise. Because then i can stick my metaphoric tongue at the losers and sit there basking in the nice breeze and if its winter then, the winter sun, watching the sometimes beautiful and mostly ugly countryside from Barrackpore to Sealdah. It is prettier and much less violent on the other side of the river, the Howrah side (there are two major lines, the Howrah and the Sealdah) because it is mostly countryside and paddy fields and prettily green. From Barrackpore to Sealdah, its ok, but not as pretty. Still i love it, love watching the tracks seemingly endlessly running on and on, and the various houses, all waiting, a potential novel, drama or short story waiting within its doors. And the people, some using the tracks for more private affairs, some as instruments of suicide, some as a source of amusement, the enormity of the whole railway system hits me sometimes when i see rows and rows of people waiting at each station, waiting to fight their way into the train and vice versa, it is a fight. Oh the fights. I have seen aplenty. Even ones with sharp blades and stuff. I remember one--some women, mostly ones working at homes as household helps and cooks or at factories, will generally sit on the floor of the entrances blocking and creating general mayhem. So, this train that is infamous for its fight and its crowd, had two factions within its floor women. Now they were fighting for God knows what, their respective leaders stood up starting fighting, one was as dark as the night outside, plump and sturdy, all muscle, the other wheatish, undernourished and scruffier looking. The Dark Lady, wore a green 'tanti' sari with a red border and a big red bindi, both of them were Hindi speaking, from opposite religions. The Stick Insect wore a brown salwar kameez and had her hair platted. Now fisticuffs broke out, were goaded and cheered by their followers, soon they were pulling each others hair, and the Dark Lady's long luscious hair broke its bounds and trailed all along her back and flew behind her as she fought, her pallu blowing in the wind, as the train shot through, her curly hair too blew along with it; she reminded me of Kali, she looked tremendously like that. I can never forget that evocative scene. Pallu blowing, hair flying, anger and mayhem. Gosh. That isn't the worst part of it. From Sealdah main i take the Sealdah south trains. Pure torture. From animals perched on overhead baggage racks to women changing clothes, i have seen it all. All that is left for me to see is a woman giving birth and making babies too. But one thing, Ladies' Compartments are a boon. Thank you for inventing it. That is the only thing that saves whatever little dignity 'daily passengry' leaves within you.
I may sound bitter and frustrated and angry, that's because i am. That's how you Will feel after a while. I have neglected telling you the horrific 'general compartment' experiences, they are too nightmarish and humiliating to ever recall. I let them pass into the miasma of AMNESIA.