Thrown out of a train

After my experience posted last week with the railways, Thondup is sharing his experience.
Radheshyam

16th July 09

Dear Chief,

Welcome to the Club !!!!! I had a nightmare of a train trip a few weeks back. Of course I did complain to the Railways - with a copy to Her Majest Mamata didi, no less ( but then no reply...not even the return of my Regd AD card !!!!!. However the Security & Vigilance Dept of the Eastern rRlys did send an official letter asking me whether my complaint was genuine / or pseudonomous !!!!

I am sending my take on the entire trip. Perhaps what kept me sane was Partho's - Parthasarathi Sengupta , GMS Class of 67 - concern and "monitoring" ( Partho weren't you a Prefect in the final year ?)... This the good that happens when old school buddies keep in contact.

Laugh, cry or be frustrated ...that's our India and I guess we love Her for being the way She is... warts and all

thondup

JUB WE MET – IN BENGAL

It is around 8 O’clock at night on the 22nd of May 2009. In New Delhi Ms Mamta Bannerjee has just been sworn in as the Minister for Railways and her supporters are jubilant. In Calcutta I am on the Kanchankanya Express weeping with frustration. It is the beginning of my long journey into a night of frustration, terror, exploration, sex and warm human lessons.

At around 5 in the evening I was informed by the Indian Railways website that my status had changed from a Number 1 on the Waiting List to that of a confirmed berth in Coach No A1 Berth Number 17. With this precious paper in hand I bid adieu to Partho, an old school friend, and leave for Sealdah. As the train chugged out of Sealdah I notice that there is a confusion in the seating arrangements. My berth has been allotted to a Marwari lady. She informs me that her tickets – hers and her daughter’s – had been on Waiting List Numbers 2 & 3 and that they had been confirmed only an hour before the train’s departure. They have been allotted berths number 17 & 18. A little while later I am confronted by the Train Ticket Examiner who informs me that my name is not on the reservation Chart . I show him the confirmation given to me by the Railways site. He is a little confused. He asks me to wait. He then does his round of the compartment and when he returns he informs me that I must leave the compartment. I inform him that I have a confirmed reservation as per the Railways and once again I show him the website printout. Seeing no alternative he declares the printout a fake. He declares that I have forged the printout and that the railways do not have such documents. I then request him to state this in writing and that I would voluntarily leave the train once I have this in writing. He refuses. In that case I inform him I will not leave the compartment. Since we have reached an impasse he resorts to his weapon of pass(enger) destruction….he calls for the Railway Police personnel on board and in a strident voice declares me as a cunning cheat – calling me a chaaloo jinis , reducing me to an inanimate object - and declaring that I should be arrested for traveling with forged documents, tantamount to traveling without a ticket – a punishable offence under Section blah blah blah – and demanding that I be arrested and detained in the Burdawan GRP office. That frightens me out of my wits. However the armed guards are more polite and also quite reluctant to actually lay their hands on me. In fact at Burdawan they help me with my luggage and apologise for the TTE’s behaviour. Life is funny- the TTE who is supposed to be an assistance to a passenger is a nasty piece of work whereas the Police who everyone suspects of being nasty turn out to be much more understanding and helpful. The TTE , in the meantime is having his five minutes of fame – regaling the other passengers about how he has taught me a lesson. I get off at Burdawan. It is 10 O’clock in the night. A completely new place for me. Even the Station Master’s Office is closed. The wretched experience has left me drained and being diabetic I feel my blood sugar playing havoc and I begin to feel faint. Luckily I am carrying my medication and I take a pill.





For those of you who have never been to Burdawan – aside from the fleeting glimpse of the platform as you whiz by – it is a town that shuts off its lights and goes off to sleep by Nine. The only lights that one sees are those on the fringes of the railway station. It is a frightening sight after such a harrowing experience. I get out of the station and walk to the rickshaw stand. And that is when Fate decides to be a little kinder to me.

A crowd of rickshaw pullers descend upon me. Some instinct makes me choose a young scruffy boy. He could not have been more than twenty years old. I ask him to take me to the bus stand. He asks for ten rupees. I am too tired to haggle. When we reach the bus stand it is closed. Then I ask him to take me to a taxi stand – I want to hire a taxi to Calcutta, if not to Siliguri. Not possible he says, all the taxi stands are closed. And then he warns me, since I am a stranger I would be fleeced if not robbed so he suggest I check into a hotel and then the next morning he himself will take me to the taxi stand. That sounds reasonable so we begin our tour of Burdawan by night. We check into more than three hotels – all are full. It seems that the university examinations are going on and that students, many with their parents in tow, have filled the hotels. We are given the suggestion of trying out the lodges on B.C Road. As we leave the last hotel a group of boys begin to tail us. The rickshaw begins to race and the boys give chase on foot. A few tense minutes later we lose sight of them in the dark. A little later, after driving through a pitch dark road near a recreation park we come across a small shop. I ask the rickshaw to stop and to buy a packet of cigarettes and water. I offer him a bottle of Coke. It is then that I ask him his name. Raju, he says, as he gulps down his Coke.

“ Babu, I will not let anything happen to you. I have lost my father and you are like my father. All I need is my fare and your blessings. You look like you are from the military. How can I cheat someone like my father that too from our military” I am touched. All of a sudden I see that I could learn to enjoy this enforced misfortune instead of being miserable. Also, perhaps the rest of the country could learn a lesson in patriotism , albeit under false colours, from this young boy.

I get a call on my mobile. It is Partho. He is sick with worry and screams at me to get a taxi and to get back to Calcutta immediately.

“No matter how late it is I will be waiting to open the gate. You just come home.” After that he keeps on calling me every fifteen minutes. That gives me confidence and the pall of gloom is lifted. On his third or fourth call I tell him

“ Partho, this is turning out to be like Jub We Met, san’s Kareena Kapoor , don’t worry”

“Bastard” he replies ( with no aspersions to my patrimony ) “ If you can joke even in this situation then you must be ok”. Even then he keeps on calling; he is worried. This is the second good thing that has happened tonight. How many of us can count on such deep concern from a friend ? I guess I am lucky.

A little while down the road we come to a bifurcation. Raju stops to ask a policeman directions. As we take the left turn I ask Raju if he knows where he is taking me since he has had to ask for directions.

“Babu you are like my father. Do you think I would cheat you ? We have to go down this road and ride through the red light area. The reason I asked the policeman was to make sure he knows that we were looking for a hotel and not a whore. Otherwise he would have used that as an excuse to harass us”. That was really smart of him and I was a little ashamed of my mistrust.

Mahajan Gully (no pun intended ) was a short strip of lane with some huts and some old buildings on either side of the lane. Even the ladies had retired for the night – that should give the strangers an idea about how early Burdawan shuts down for the day. The lane was deserted but for a few forlorn biddies who were either too tired or perhaps lacking in self confidence to make overtures to me ( should my manhood be offended ? ).

Even on B.C. Road we had to knock on the doors of three hotels before I could find a room. It was a lodge grandiloquently self styled as the Golden Lodge. A dingy room and a common bathroom to be shared by the inmates of three other rooms. I was too tired to care. After having seen me safe in my room Raju left telling me that he would be back the next morning to take me to the taxi stand. I was so grateful and relieved that I paid him Three Hundred rupees. He had asked for a hundred, I added another hundred but then he spoilt it all by asking for more and so I added another hundred. Three hundred in all. Later next day I was to find out that the actual fare should have been no more than Fifty Rupees. But then what the hell – he did serve me well. He’d turned a night of horror into a night of learning and fun. It was midnight by then.

The door of the room next to mine opened ; there was a young girl perched on the bed surrounded by neat piles of books and papers. Her father smiled at me and whispered
“ We are from Nawadeep. She has her BA Maths honours examination tomorrow. Could you please keep the volume of the TV turned down”. What ???? A room with TV but no attached bathroom ???? So much for March of the Electrons.

The next morning after I’d had a bath and said my prayers I took out the packet of flowers and tika that I had brought with me from Kalighat. My neighbour was just coming out of the bathroom after his bath when I gave it to him.

“ For your daughter and her examination. It is from Kalighat ” I explained

He was very touched. “ I am very fortunate. I have finished my bath and here at the door step of my room I receive this Prasad. Thank you very much. Now I know my daughter will surely do very well.” I do not know what made me reply

“No don’t thank me. Thank the TTE who threw me out of the train. If it had not been for him we would not have met”. He then told me that his name was Nandi and that he worked in the college in Katua.
Since the grand Golden Lodge – tarrif Rupees Two Hundred for bed and bed tea – served only tea and boiled eggs for breakfast I went down to the street. A small sweet shop next door had warm loochis and sabzi. While having breakfast Raju arrived. As I was explaining to him how disappointed he made me feel by asking me for the extra hundred rupees – even after our agreed fare had been a hundred and I had willingly added another hundred – the shop keeper, a pleasant old gentleman and a customer having tea besides me asked me what had happened. I related my experience of the night and they became furious. They asked the Raju to explain the route he had taken. After he told them they began to berate him.

“How dare you cheat a stranger in our town. It is the likes of you that gives our town a bad name. Who is the owner of your rickshaw ? What is your licence number ? You leave your rickshaw here and send the owner “ I tried to intervene. They asked me not to interfere. “ No, Dada, you let us handle this. The most that this boy should have charge you is Fifty Rupees. We will teach this fellow a lesson”.

I had to explain to them that I had given Raju Three hundred out of gratitude because he had looked after me very well and that he had saved me from the goons. And I also had to tell them that because Raju had warned me about taking a taxi from Burdawan I had asked a friend to send me a taxi from Calcutta to go to Siliguri. It was onl;y after that that that they let Raju go. They were concerned about my welfare.

“ Why spend money on a taxi ? Why not take the bus ? “ I had to explain that I was diabetic and that traveling by bus would be very inconvenient. Who says that there is no heart in Bengal ? Bengal is a wonderfully human place. Perhaps this is what led Mother Teresa to choose her first missionary home here

The taxi, arranged by Partho, arrived at 11. As I was leaving my room Mr Nandi’s daughter called out to me “ Uncle, are you leaving ?” Yes, I nodded. She came out of her room and touched my feet. A total stranger and a non-Bengalee. Who says culture has died in Bengal ? This was the human face of Bengal that so many of us have been blind to. And for all these wonderful experiences I think I need to thank Mr N.R. Samader the TTE of Kanchananya Express. Does anyone have his mobile number ?????

I left Burdawan at 11 and reached home by 1230 midnight. Perhaps fate decided that I must have had a little too much of a good time since She decided to twist the tale. At Eelam Bazar we took a wrong turn and lost our way. Partho, as usual, monitoring my welfare and trip every hour was the one to realize that and he decided to guide the driver on the phone from Calcutta. Travel by remote control…wow!!! One must be blessed to have such a friend.

At around 1130 in the night after we had just crossed Islampur I received a call on the mobile from an unknown number. It was Mr Nandi from Nawadeep; he wanted to know if I had reached home safely.


In “Jub We Met” Shahid Kapoor gets the girl in the end. And that too a delicious bit like Kareena Kapoor. Me ? I got to meet some wonderful strangers who changed a bit of my life. Filmy gossip has it that Shahid Kapoor and Kareena broke up their real life romance after “Jub We Met “. Me ? No one can take away the warm memories of my night in Burdawan. So I guess I got the better deal.

P.S. AUTHOR’S NOTE : Another few months and I shall have joined the glorious ranks of the so called “Senior Citizens”. Politicians are a breed who can twist any situation to suit their convenience. Give them a lemon and they will have a lemonade franchise. So, I would sincerely request the Honorable Minister of Railways, Madame Mamta Bannerji, not to take my story as an endorsement of the spiritually uplifting and educative aspect of travel by the Railways. I don’t think I would be able to take it a second time.