Tale of a Journey: Social Irony Unfolds

On an ideal Saturday morning, I like to lie leisurely with flailing arms and stretched legs on my bed without worrying about the raging sun rays knocking at my window pane and ticking time clock. I sink into past as there would not be any future. A perfect start of the Saturday would be with a cup of tea and the recitation of Faiz and Iqbal with silence as my companion and audience.
Alas- it was not an ideal Saturday, the “scheduled business meeting” was disturbing my eternal peace, even though it was ought to start a bit late but the presence of its being, did not allow me to enjoy the morning calm and relish the soothing silence. After the soporific meeting was over, I rushed to catch an auto rickshaw for New Delhi Railway Station to board the train for my home town, Aligarh even though train was late by an hour from the scheduled departure time as per the “Train Running Information System (e.g. www.trainenquiry.com)”.My trust on the aforementioned website got shaken when I missed the train once thanks to the misleading information displayed there. Once bitten twice shy,since then I conciously ignore the information.

I waited for the auto rickshaw and finally found one after tiresome and desperate haggling with the autowala (Auto Rickshaw Driver) that certainly left a bad taste in the mouth. Public Transport System in Noida can be best described as miserable and lamentable. It is a collection of crowded government buses and a gang of autowala’s(Auto Rickshaw Driver) who demand the fare depending on their mood swings ,passenger’s luck and some times visible pity on the passenger’s face.

Who else but the touts greeted me at the main entrance gate of New Delhi platform , offering all kinds of tickets , from any where to every where .They can not be trashed as all fake , they arrange genuine tickets sans genuine price even though it is not available as per the railway reservation system. All these are being done under immense public glare and in collusion with police and railway authorities on a profit sharing arrangement. If you do not have plenty of time at your disposal, you will definitely miss the train as there is always a big serpentine queue at all the ticket counters of New Delhi railway station. Hey, shed your worries as the services are available to get the ticket hassle free without waiting for your turn in the crawling queue. To avail the services, you need to take a few right steps: identify the right face, greet the right person and offer the right amount of compensation for getting this challenging assignment done. Being a firm believer in the woman emancipation, I trust the woman touts more than their male counterparts.

Fortunately, I had booked the ticket in advance, just maneuvering through the crowd I reached the train compartment. New Delhi Railways station platforms are always crowded and crammed with the people of all ages and motley of faces and races. It is like a city in a state of flux, busy and buzzing. Trains and the railways stations are the real reflection of the class division and difference in the class status in the Indian society. Most of the trains have stuffy sleeper class, relatively comforting air- conditioned compartments (which are further subdivided in three classes) and agonizing general compartment. Sleeper class is mostly occupied by the lower middle class and air conditioned classes are for the privileged section of the society (based on their social stratification). Condition of the trains in general is pathetic with dirty compartments and stinking toilets many a times without any water. However, among all classes general compartment (particularly for the trains going to east) are in the worst state, labour class who comes to Delhi to earn their bread not even butter are stuffed like animals in a metal box (know as general compartment) where they have to spend more than twenty four hours sitting in the stifling and debilitating inhuman environment.

Beyond these horrifying tales of gross negligence and mismanagement by the railway authorities, let me share the interesting part of my train journey. I entered the cabin and found my seat already occupied. At my humble request (laced with a cosmetic smile) people adjusted themselves to allow me to fit into the available space. As always the number of people occupying the seats were more than the reserved quota thanks to the goodwill of the ticket collectors and the morbid fear of the local hooligans.Fellow companions were gregarious, pleasant and convivial even though they belonged to different age groups. Aligned with long and rich argumentative tradition of India, we pounced upon every single chance to get into the discussion with each other about any thing under the sun. A middle aged couple just returning from Amaranth Yatra was ecstatic about their journey which made them feel closer to the God. They were sharing the fear and fun of a helicopter ride which they took for the first time on their way to holy cave for pooja. Two relatively young guys were engrossed in the discussion about the mundane stuff like recent salary hike, busy morning schedule and the television soaps which they started watching, enjoying and following after their marriages. Their wives also participated in the discussion about the TV soaps that enthralled them and kept them engaged while their husbands were away at work. Occasionally the young ladies confided and whispered about their favorite topic of in-laws and also thanked God for bestowing his blessings on them by granting independence from them.

Train was running hard oscillating from side to side and rattling loudly matching with the prattle inside the cabin. Some loud and disturbing voice was coming from the next cabin as a gentleman with not so gentle voice was exhorting about the election strategy which will make the BJP win the next lok sabha election.

Not all Indians blabber and argue, some believe in the power of silence too as exhibited by the lady from the “Far East “who was absorbed in the book and had occasional glance at the people around.

Suddenly train stopped at a dark and deserted station with a screeching sound, some people got off to take the stock of the situation and to inhale and feel the fresh air. Train stopped, tongue continued, there was only one voice in the cabin (voice of the lady returning from Amarnath Yatra), rest all were listening to her with undivided attention. She was talking about the internet, the most remarkable invention of the 2oth century which has become a necessity for them to connect to one of their daughters and her IT professional husband happily settled in Switzerland .She kept sharing her stories without getting distracted a bit by the flurry of the movements of the people for all kinds of reason :some of them searching for the right places as the seat number on ticket and chart does not match , vendors selling tea, coffee, water bottle and crackers etc., ticket collectors draped in dirty “black turned brown” jacket for the ticket validation and fund collection from the local passengers as good will gesture and service to the nation.

After a long wait, train started crawling again and I slipped into the thought of the people traveling in AC compartments/classes who represent the “Shining India”. These are the people who benefited most from the policies of liberalization, globalization, privatization and all such euphonious phrases. Their income has grown many folds since the economy opened up making them taller at least in their own eyes. There was another India(“Suffering India”) traveling in the same train in the congested, dingy and fetid compartment (known as general compartment) without basic amenities for human beings and disconnected from rest of the train. These people were also babbling, chattering and laughing in their own world .They have learnt to live in this unjust world of suffering, agony and abuses without any complaint, even to their God

Yawning gap between “Suffering and Shining India” is visible with the naked eyes but we have chosen to remain blind. It has been best described by Arunadhiti Roy as:

“It's as though the people of India have been rounded up and loaded onto two convoys of trucks (a huge big one and a tiny little one) that have set off resolutely in opposite directions. The tiny convoy is on its way to a glittering destination somewhere near the top of the world. The other convoy just melts into the darkness and disappears. A cursory survey that tallies the caste, class and religion of who gets to be on which convoy would make a good Lazy Person's concise Guide to the History of India. For some of us, life in India is like being suspended between two of the trucks, one leg in each convoy, and being neatly dismembered as they move apart, not bodily, but emotionally and intellectually”.

These journeys are a great learning experience; they teach a lot about the socio economic conditions of the society and provide opportunity to experience the political undercurrent and unassailable truths of life.

The” lady returning from Amaranth Yatra” continued sharing her views and worries about the difficulty of finding a perfect match for their second daughter. Emerging from the envelope of darkness, city was visible in the yellow and white light, familiar places were passing by as the train was inching towards my destination. After making the necessary noises, train stopped at the station and I could recognize from the cacophony and the buzz of the platform, the city I have chosen to live and love.