Leaving... on a Choo - Choo Train

The next time you meet someone who has just endured a 30 hour train journey – give ‘em a hug...

I wish I had the words/talent to accurately describe how tiring 30 hours of DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING can be. No exercise known to man comes close to causing as much physical exhaustion. And even the cruellest Sudoku cannot compare to the toll that idleness takes on one’s mind.

I thought I had it sorted... I mean I used to travel by train once upon a time. In addition to being invincible in every possible way (gifted at birth you see) I had the kind of temperament that was perfectly suited for combating boredom. I laughed in the face of monotony. I took to long journeys like my erstwhile landlady to glass of single malt whiskey.

There was no dearth of things to do! I could stare out the window for hours at end and not feel the slightest temptation to gouge my eyes out. I would eavesdrop on conversations (which invariably revolved around any of the following riveting subjects – rising prices, corruption in government, how unbearably hot/cold the weather is) without experiencing the urge to tear off my ears. I would read books and magazines, listen to music or just twiddle my thumbs and stare off into space like there was no tomorrow. And when all else failed – there were the naps. Ah sleep... a most calming refuge for the bored mind. If you add frequent trips to the loo, walks along the bogie and counting the minutes that pass between one chai walah and the next – well there’s hardly any time left for being bored!

Somewhere between those sanguine journeys of yore and today two irreversible developments took place –

1. I became rich (which, as I am having to painfully accept, is not exactly irreversible)

2. I got old and fussy

Between them, reasons 1. and 2. pretty much explain my inability to cope with the harsh realities of long train journeys. I’ve lost my childish enthusiasm for staring off into seemingly endless landscapes and imagining a simpler life – one look at vast expanses of depressing nothing-ness and I start to understand why so many farmers commit suicide. Agreed, the view from flights is infinitely more boring (I mean how many clouds can one admire before they all start to look the same? Provide me a view of two aeroplanes {other than the one i’m travelling in} colliding in mid-air, now that’s entertainment!!). But factor in travel time and we have a clear winner in the boredom sweepstakes –1 hour of fluffy white clouds vs. 20 hours of khet, majjan te gavan (i.e. – fields, buffaloes and cows). You decide...

And those “thrilling” trips to the loo... well they aren’t all that exciting any more. I still remember having perfected the art of relieving myself in an under-sized, smelly metal box that wobbles almost constantly. The challenge lies in doing all of this while simultaneously avoiding contact with anything inside the toilet compartment. Everything has to be nudged with an elbow, a hip, a knee or in extreme cases sheer willpower. Its the truest test of a human being’s motor skills. And as if the whole loo experience isn’t horrific enough there is the prospect of walking past and in some cases being attacked by a host of appendages dandled carelessly from upper berths... a kick in the shoulder here... a slap in the forehead there... makes you wonder how careless human beings can be with parts of their own body. Chhee...

Ownership of a laptop or i-pod only exacerbates travel woes. The railways, exhibiting a most twisted form of benevolence have provided charging points in most bogies – only there are never enough (damn the unbridled expansion of mobile telephony!) and the few that exist are either defunct or... well... temperamental. So you’re stuck with a hard disc full of FRIENDS or Family Guy or Russell Peters – whatever suits your fancy - and only 2 hrs of running time... and 28 hours of NOTHING... its the kind of frustration that makes you want to crawl into the highest berth and weep yourself to a quiet death.

About the only thing I don’t miss about flights are Flight Attendants. They scare me... I kid you not. All that smiling and courteousness? It’s just not normal human behaviour. The Train Attendants (I’m assuming that’s what they’re called) are refreshingly real – they grunt and complain and never have change for a 500. You gotta love ‘em.

In the midst of all this suffering I tried my absolute level best to day-dream about my exciting new life in Delhi... but before long the rainbows disappeared only to be replaced by far grimmer thoughts.

“First of all – I am poor again, which is never a good thing to be. Second of all I am single, which means having to find something to do on the weekends. I may even have to start reading again! Or blogging!! Sheesh... What a loser...”

“Having a rich boyfriend would go some way in solving both problems. But that would necessitate meeting new people... Crisis! And a lot of smiling... eeks. Going to places would require haggling with evil auto-wallahs... Nahiiiin!!!!”

A deadly combination of cabin fever and fear of the outside world... add a couple of large (double emphasis on the word “large”) geriatric women who take forever to navigate their bulk through the aisle and you have a neurotic on your hands.

But what is a girl to do? When she has foolishly volunteered for a life of penury. When wallet woes compel her to stop being a brat and “slum it” (3 tier AC is hardly slumming it – so i guess i’m still a little bit of a brat. Hee hee). When monetary constraints force her to trade in the comforting swoosh of the in-flight toilet flush for a rather questionable steel mug chained to a tap for fear of being stolen. Having to forego the dulcet tones of Yana’s voice as she coaches me through the safety routine on that cute little T.V. (I’ll miss you Yana... Sob). And instead, being treated to a symphony of farts and sighs and snores.

So I’m travelling on a choo – choo train

Don’t know when i’ll be sane again

In other (less dramatic) news -

I’m back home in Chandigarh with a lot of time on my hands and very little to do with it. Look forward to more gripping prose from the stables of Mademoiselle BB (ok I know prose can’t come from stables but its one of those nonsensical things you really don’t feel like deleting). Her pen is slightly fractured due to a year and ten months of bombardment by uninspiring excel spread sheets. But she’s looking to come back – newer, sharper, edgier and slightly more regular-er.

Coming attractions –

- Marry Rich or Die Tryin’

- Love, Sex aur Dhokla - The Way to a Man's Heart

- The Art of Cordial Breakups

- Cryptic Titles for Boring Blog Posts

- Book4.xls: A Labour of Love

... and much much more...