Survival story

                 

I never understood what Karina Kapoor meant when she said: “When you were leaving me, I felt as if I was missing a train” to Shahid Kapoor in their reel love story ‘Jab we met’. Though I take pride in calling myself a romantic ,I could never see the point in comparing your love with a train!! Little did I know that my wish would be granted so soon! It was the fateful morning of Friday the Eighteenth 2010.Oh! The thought of going home after so many days was painting so many sanguine pictures in my mind. Dreaming a thousand beautiful dreams I slept a sound sleep the previous night. The idea that something can go terribly wrong never once crossed my mind.

I woke up to a frantic call by my mom the following morning .After which I realized that it was 5:15 in the morning, and that I was left with just 15 minutes to get ready for the journey. And I also realized that the alarms set by me were not at all responsible for the misfortune that prevailed, but it was my right hand that had pushed my phone to the depths of darkness and that too literally. Oh yes,I haven’t told you I happen to have two phones one that does not have a charger and another whose  speaker isn’t working.

I quickly counted the minutes I could afford to spend in getting ready. So, ablutions were sacrificed as I dashed towards my neatly arranged clothes that had impatiently waited on me till now. They bore a vengeful look while I mercilessly tossed them in my wheeler.

Okay, so I was already sensing all the wrong signals that dear god was sending me as warnings about the bigger catastrophe that was about to happen. It was 5:30 and I had still not gotten any taxi. My dear roommate (who was dragged out of her comfy bed the moment I realized I couldn't pull it off on my own) and I were running in all directions to get hold of a taxi.

The dogs of my street who were in general a peaceful lot but that day even they were swearing at me through their barks.

Finally at around 5:40 a giant looking taxi Walla agreed to take me to the station. I was very pleased with his stature and kept telling myself that his height is directly proportional to his speed.

He took exactly 10 minutes on that rain-kissed road. He grinned at me and wished me a happy journey

Now the only remaining task was to find the platform where the Shatabdi Express stood.

The red walls of the station welcomed me with its usual discrepancies.

I pushed my wheeler like a winning trophy and looked at the

My train was on platform 22 while I was standing on Platform no. 1.Platform no. 22 was at the newer railway station while I was standing at the Old railway Station. Hopefully both the stations were joined by a footbridge. I had exactly ten minutes to board the train. I climbed the stairs with full vengeance and some of the choicest curses that I directed at the taxi Walla who had proclaimed Shatabdi express departs from the Old railway station.

I also promised myself to travel light from the next time. By the time I reached platform number 20 I was panting and was covered in sweat.”7 minutes to go! ” my wheeler pleaded. It hardly had a chance to strut its four wheels of late.

Platform no. 22 was like any other platform in India. Platforms are the only places that do true justice to India’s fertility. Where people seemed to be emerging from everywhere pushing shoving and swearing their way through. There it was standing like a .The train that would carry me home. 

Only thing was that I was not aware of the fact that Shatabdi standing before me had an addition to its name .The train that stood before me had Jan Shatabdi written on it in bold.

A closer look told me this train was going to Patna. That is when it hit me ; while looking at the list I had somehow missed the “Jan” part and no the hottie I was staring had no role to play in it.

I risked standing there with a blank expression for a few seconds after which I was reminded of the conversation with my parents that was to follow.

That was reason enough for me to become the combined selves of a few bollywood heroes.

Five minutes to six and it felt like a lifetime.

Right below the footbridge was a passage way that connected the old and the new stations but it was only used for the movement of freight.

Hopefully the passage way was open and looked deserted. I leaped at it.

My heart was racing faster than my legs. Someone shouted at me to stop. I did not listen. He proved to be faster than me. He was running alongside me now. He was a guard. He tried to scold me for what looked like a trespassing I pleaded with him in half-finished sentences.

India might be a patriarchal state but the patriarchy goes kaboom at the first sight of a woman’s tears.

Only a minute to go. The guard was now running with my wheeler while I followed him. He shrieked at people to keep them out of the way.

We were one platform away. The train looked like a giant serpent on one of its lazy crawls.

The guard leaped onto the train,helped me jump aboard; a maneuver that would have made me a natural choice for the desi version of Lara Croft.

The guard smiled at me and with one swift move he was gone.
The rest of the journey was spent in trying to play non-existent to the lady sitting next to me who was trying her best to make me fall in love with her son.