Learning the Art of being Unhappy - Part 3

Sometime in the early 1990s ....I have been now promoted, I travel by II A.C. – but my up-gradation from II class to the air conditioned luxury of Indian Railways, had to transition through the “First class” travel.

It was in 1989 that my life changed for the better; from being a carefree, irresponsible, selfish, individualistic being - I moved on to the stage in life that brought about plurality – got married!! This meant that I could not take any more journeys without a proper prior reservation; and of course, at least “First class” travels for the pretty woman who had just entered my life.

But those were early days in my career - I had got married even before I had completed a year and a half at my job. I remember that I had about a month’s saving, which was a paltry sum of Rs 3000!! To buy two first class tickets to Mysore, where I lived then, would have probably cost me half of my savings. I secretly hoped that Dad would purchase the tickets – a very understanding man, realizing my plight (and probably feeling sorry for me!), without even asking, he took care of it!

He did much more! Though he never displayed his romantic side (to us), he made sure that the reservation was made in a 2-berth, private coupe. Well, the second berth was a sheer waste of money, since we did not have any use of it. The journey from Cuttack to Mysore was around two days. It was a very eventful journey, but I think I will skip the details, lest this post be categorized as having “adult content”! 

We reached Bangalore, where we had to change trains. We had the porter move the scratch-free vip suitcases to the platform. It was quite evident that we were newly married and about to start a life of our own. This drew the attention of a slimy TTE (Travelling Ticket Examiner), who gleefully approached us, with his penalty book tucked under his crumpled black jacket. He points out at the 7 suitcases and starts making ominous gestures about them being overweight and that we need to pay a heavy fine. My face paled, I did not want my wife to think I was a loser in this first challenge to my valour. I regained my composure quickly and using all the tricks of bribing I had learnt during my student days, managed to get him off our backs with a 50 rupee note. 

My encounters with the TTEs were more frequent and more expensive than in my student days. Whether we had one berth short or had the unique RAC (Reservation Against Cancellation), I would trail the TTE across multiple coaches patiently for an hour or so - till such time he knew I was desperate and would part with a reasonable bribe.  Finally, I  would get the reservation and made sure that my Queen had a comfortable journey, always.

Our first little princess made her first travel when she was 9 months old. Queen insisted that First class was not good enough for the little one – so I traveled II AC for the first time. The blue berths in these coaches and the maroon vinyl flooring were so much cleaner. No longer do I have to worry about the open windows, where one is forever apprehensive about a pair of scruffy hands entering to filch our belongings. But the challenges were different. New rules on hygiene have been imposed in my life. Bed sheets were drawn up on the berth and not on the floor. No more drinking water with my cupped hands from the taps in the platforms. Now I had to try and get boiled water during a stop, so that we could make the Cerelac feed and Amulspray milk for the little one. 

Except for the first meal, we no longer needed to carry food in the train. The “super-fast” trains now have catering service. After an inexorable wait past the meal time, the bearer walks into your coach, balancing a dozen of trays which he sets on the floor. Newspapers are spread out on the berth to place the tiny trays. I carefully peel of the aluminum wrapping (quite impressed by its novelty, then) to ensure that there is minimal spillage. Then I dig in ravenously into the oily vegetable curry and the watery dal (lentil). The yogurt is as sour as the pickle, the rice is partially cooked and the chappatis resemble thick papads – but I make sure that I do total justice and make a futile attempt to get value for money by cleaning up the tray. Thereafter the trays are tucked below the berths balanced precariously on each other. I drink water from an unbranded plastic sachet given with the meal, unmindful of the fact that its source and quality is suspect. The AC coach is filled with the sour yogurt like aroma, till the next meal time.

Our second princess arrived six years later. As both of them grew up, our journeys kept evolving. If the initial years, were about carrying sufficient (and expensive) Huggie diapers and Johnson baby powder, the latter years were devoted to keeping them engaged in the long journeys. There was no need for tickets until they were 3 or 4 years old – so at that age, they learnt to share a berth with me, with our heads at opposite ends. My heart would swell with pride as they ran across the aisle to the adoring gazes of co-passengers. The upper berths were a relief – they would clamber up and down the 3 step ladder and spend hours there, giving us some much needed respite. As they grew up, they carried their own books and insisted on playing card games, which I dislike to this day.

The service in the second AC kept improving over time. There was an attendant in every coach now who would provide us with bed sheets, pillows and blankets. Occasionally, one would find a long strand of hair on the pillow cover and realise that it had been recycled, without a wash, as a cost saving measure. It was critical to take it off before wife noticed it the next morning and wondered how I could have been so adventurous. 

On waking up, I head towards the sink at the end of the coach. There is a crowd there and seeing their countenances I wonder whether Colgate has ever known the different ways of brushing teeth. Some of them have their mouth covered with froth of the tooth paste, others have it wide open and brush vigorously ... I quickly finish it the Colgate way and make a hasty retreat, so that I do not have to listen to the various sounds of oral health-care that follow. 

One has to use the axiom of “Look before you Leap” while using the toilets in the Indian Railways – irrespective of which class you travel. This entails gently turning the latch and cautiously opening the door. You have to be prepared for the worst, since some passengers would have been very careless when they exited. In which case, you immediately shut it and try your luck in the next one. In fact, I am eager to know the name of the bureaucrat who introduced western style toilets in the railways; I guess he spent his life in Europe without having a clue of Indian sanitary discipline! 

Before the end of the journey, one would start lining up the luggage near the door. Because there is this unique Indian Railways game, played in every coach, of every train, in every station, probably thousand times a day across the country. It involves Team A who need to alight versus Team B who needs to board the train. So when the train stops at the station, there this mad pushing and shoving by both the teams to enter and exit. In this game, both teams are the winners, since they always end up in achieving their end objectives – but with a few bruises and ill temper.

We alight after one such game and count the number of baggage and family members. My parents are there at the station to greet us and I notice that the queen and the princesses get all the attention. I am left with the luggage and couple of belligerent porters. I agree to their exorbitant demands and try to catch up with my family who are already half way to the waiting car.

The journeys were tough, but I always enjoyed myself and never complained.

Maybe it was the new found pleasures of a married life. Maybe it was the company of my Queen and Princesses that made me oblivious to the discomforts. Maybe it was the sense of responsibility that made me take care of my family first and resolving their difficulties became my priority.

... Maybe I had not yet learnt the Art of Being Unhappy....

(.... To be continued .....)