Friday, March 11, 2016

The Escapade

And I woke up after fourteen hours; all sweaty and dehydrated, dry like a bone, to the smell of burnt metal typical of railway stations and with the taste of blood still lingering in my mouth, over-powering the usual pine-mouth I wake up to. Someone had laid their luggage on the foot end of the upper berth I was sleeping, leaving just over four feet space for my six feet body. I felt for the bundle of money in my pant pocket. Surely, a couple of notes must have gotten wet from my sweat, but it didn't matter much. My concern lay on the pen drive which I was wearing as a locket, and it was safe. Just as the cramped upper berth was getting heated up like an oven from the afternoon sun, I decided to get down.

Two women were engaged in an animated conversation while cracking groundnuts out of their shells and littering the whole floor of the compartment with them. What seemed to me like their half-sized husbands, sat cross-legged beside them and nodded occasionally to the women's conversation, whenever looked at for approval. The women looked sisters and were dressed alike in what appeared to be salwar suits made when they were slimmer and which squeezed on their full bosoms so hard that a major part was left bulging, ready to pop out any moment.

Their conversation stopped midway as they saw me make a slow and stiff-bodied descend from my berth. All this time they were totally unaware of my presence as I lay sleeping above them.
Their scanning gazes looked at the figure who resembled a sahab, was dressed in expensive clothes, although soiled at places and who looked like he's just survived a brawl. Even with that unctuous and sweaty face, his complexion was fairer than their Sarpanch's grand-daughter, a skin-tone every girl wished for herself, every boy wished for their would-be wives and every mother wished for their unborns.

A few moments passed by and they realized I was looking for my shoes. Directing each other in hushed tones, all of them got engaged frantically in my search. I finally found them deeply lodged under their seats, filled with groundnut shells. They smiled apologetically as I shook them out.
You know of those railway stations with names you have never heard before? Stations which do not even make it to maps? Where you find only a desolate singular platform with probably no station master? With sometimes maybe only a concrete bench or a water tap? Where beyond the platform wall, all you can see is vast uninhabited land? This was one of them, where the sluggish train currently came to halt.

I stood at the door looking at the signboard to read it's name, syllable-wise. I was clueless as to what the name meant nor in which state or district this particular place was. Some got down to fill their partly crushed and yellowed Bisleri bottles with the water from the tap, the bottles yellowed in various shades from their use over time. After some time, the train jolted, and then slowly, like an old man, started picking up speed.

I took out my phone from my pocket. There was no cellular network. Beside me was a teenage boy standing near the door. His hair was oiled and combed and there he stood with a demeanor that looked smarter than the rest of the crowd. I clicked a few buttons on my mobile and turned towards the boy, "iPhone charger?".

The boy shook his head.

"Buy one", I told him and handed over the phone to him.

And just as the train was about to leave the platform, I got down from it and breathed in the air from the place I'd be calling home... till when, I didn't know!!!

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