A day at a railway platform....

I really like the railways. I mean really really like. Though you'll often find me complaining about long journeys, backaches and deplorable food, the truth is, there's no real break in your schedule like a long train journey made alone. These moments, rather prolonged instants, are the only times I find myself without internet, phone connectivity or people I know. Just the constant dhud-dhud dhud-dhud vibrations of the train. The contemplative power of this time is unparalleled. There's obviously a lot of rubbish in my head too, that keeps popping up like..... a pop-up window. So amidst the thoughts of Shiela vs Munni, Blackberry vs iPhone, and which universities to app to, my mind somehow thought up a few stories that are related to - yes- the railways. So here's my first tribute to the arteries of Hindustan, the lifeline of India, the only thing every Indian seems to want 3 months in advance (People here can't plan pregnancies but trains from everywhere to everywhere are advance booked)

A day at a railway platform....

I awoke with a yawn as the first ray of sunlight hit me. Another wonderful day on planet earth begins. I took a deep breath and let out the oxygen. Or is it carbon dioxide?? whatever... chemistry was never my forte. It was chilly and as the 6 am train swept past, the wind blowing through my arms, a shiver ran down my spine. It has happen countless times, but every gust of wind that the morning train brings just sweeps me off my feet, makes me feel... elevated. I sometimes wonder if it's dumb to enjoy such trivialities, whether it's my goalless meandering through life without any thought of purpose or higher meaning that lets me enjoy the flutter of a butterfly, or the smell of fresh roses. I sometimes wish I had more to do than just inhaling and exhaling all the time.

Everyone around is so busy these days, either on the phone or their laptops or just lost in thought. There's always a weird look on their faces, I can't quite describe it. It's like they're constantly trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle. Peace eludes them. It wasn't like this when I was younger. Then, I'd often see people simply enjoying the breeze, gamboling down the platform, some would even hug me and I'd hug them back. They never seemed to be worried or annoyed, though in hindsight their problems were bigger, much bigger. Tattered clothes, tanned faces and toothless but hearty grins. People have surgically sculpted radiant teeth now, but what's the use? Every smile seems to have a hidden cryptic meaning, there's no bliss.

A eunuch walked past. People are just terrified of him... or her... or it. I wonder why? It's just another human being, what's to be afraid of?

I've heard that there are those who spend 5 days of the week being miserable, so they can spend 2 days having fun. Crazy I say! What sense does that make? They take up hobbies, go fishing, drink at parties, just to return every Monday to more misery. It makes me wonder who it is that lacks purpose.

To my left, a one-legged beggar was pleading to a young lady, who sympathetically fished out a couple of coins from here purse and handed it to him. Just then the station master came out of his office. The 'cripple' sprinted past a couple of youngsters chasing their train, a second foot simply sprouting out of his bandage. The look on the lady's face was worth a million bucks.

A pretty little girl walked up to me and smiled. Ahh... how I love kids. I bent down and pecked her forehead. Her smile widened. Her train arrived and she was whisked away by her mother. Until the train was out of sight, her eyes never left mine. I wonder if I'd ever meet her again. Probably not, but it would be really awesome right! Of course, she'd never remember me. But that doesn't matter, I never expected much from people. I was always taught not to.

The clock says 6 pm, and the platform is deserted. Soon all the shops will close, all the gamblers and drunkards- the human bats- will come out of their hiding and begin their show. I wonder why they're called anti-social elements. They seem more social than everyone else.

There goes the sun. I look for the switch... where the hell is it? Everyday I do this and everyday I forget where I kept it. Maybe it's my lack of a central nervous system, that I am so forgetful. I guess other trees must have the same problem. Guess I'll never know.

Things I'd like to say...

Throughout our lives, we undergo sorrow, misery, pain, joy by the actions of others. Most of these people are part of our lives, and we of theirs, hence we can have the pleasure and satisfaction of paying them back :) hehe, didn't that just make you feel better. It certainly made me.

We can talk back, hit back, argue, play a prank, make elaborate plans with levers & pulleys, and saws & rods so the person involved dies a slow painful death as we sit back and revel in their misery or simply say something... anything to their boy/girlfriends... all arranged in increasing order of suffering caused.

However with movie stars, talk show hosts, sportsmen, politicians, terrorists, Bangalorean auto drivers and pretty women, we lack a means to reciprocate. This is because, either we never get a chance to meet them or they hold so much power over us, that given a meeting we are unable to reply thinking straight.

So here's my list of things I'd like to tell these people, given an opportunity. Of course, if I ever do meet them, I will deny all knowledge of this blog's existence and probably feign MPD, with my alternate personality being an awesome, articulate, handsome writer whose writing skills were so ahead of his time that nobody really gave a damn about it. But for now, here goes:

Sachin Tendulkar: Please be immortal, please please pleeeeeeeeeez

Anu Malik: Dude, I don't know if anyone hasn't told you this, but seriously, most underage kids get nightmares of you singing. Music pe dhyaan de. Kya hua agar Pritam ne Indonesia pakad li, aur bhi bahut hain. Dekh kitna aage chala gaya woh.

Himesh: This is probably what everyone tells you, but I need to add one more drop into the ocean. You're a ridiculously and frighteningly bad singer/actor trapped in a quite talented music director's body. Please resist.

Sidhu: Yaar, please tell me Angrezi kahaan se seekhi. I'll stop spreading Sardarji jokes, even laughing at them.

Pritam: Oye, lyrics bhi same rakh leta. Kitni Mehnat bach jayegi.

That sweet thing in the corner cubicle: Hi... errr... maybe someday... movie.... Damn it, I can't even type clearly.

Amitabh Bachchan: Yaar kuch to chod de, is umr mein condom ki ad bhi karega kya ab!!

Mugabe: You little black !@#$%^

Sonu Niigaam: Baap ka naam roshan karna hota hai, badal na nahin. Aur yeh kya huliya bana rakha hai. Bachhe isiliye achha nahin gaate Little Champs pe, dare jo rehta hain.

Yuvraj Singh: !@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*() saala. Aur mota ho ja, fir Revital ki ad shoot pe jaana.

All Hollywood Actresses: Two things, one - never be seen without make-up, I know it's fake, that's how we like it. Two - once make-up stops doing the trick, please never be seen publicly, brings weird memories!

Shah rukh/Salman/Aamir Khan: We all know there's actually no enmity between you, stop pretending, you're not fooling anyone. Khan ke naam pe kaise kaise chhichore aa rahe hain industry mein. Imran, Arbaaz, Sohail, Zayed... bas naam mein Khan hai, to log jaante hain. Inhe bhagao, apni izzat bachao.

Manmohan Singh: You're doing a great job sir, ignore the buffoons. Anyone who still thinks the Sonia-Manmohan jokes are funny, are not worth your time.

Contestants(especially minors) of singing 'talent' shows: Yaar, tumhara kuchh nahin hoga. Finale/Final/Hyper final wagairah, jab khatam; koi SMS nahin karne waala. Sab cartoon, saas bahu shit, ya Emotional Atyachaar dekhne lagenge. Arre! Abhijit Sawant ko hi dekh lo.

Prince of Nigeria with a million dollar legacy: Dude, no one believes you. Stop spamming my inbox.

Sania Mirza: Please tell me, you didn't actually think that you made the news for your tennis!

Nadal: Stop biting trophies, it's disgusting! You're not a kid anymore.

Sharapova: Do you scream just like that when you're.... you know, stressed or excited??

Osama/Obama: Long time since you made any news guys. Shake it up a little, whatsay??

M Night Shyamalan: From 'The Sixth Sense' to 'The Last Airbender', your standards have fallen sharper than property rates in the US(it's very useful to use such cryptic similes from the recession; if anyone questions, I can just give them the 'dude, don't you know anything' look)

Mark Zuckerberg: I bow to thee, o most powerful man on earth...

Steve Jobs: Apple, seriously, Apple. Why? I love your stuff...but Apple??

Neil Armstrong: Tell me honestly, I want to hear it from you...

Urban Stampede 2010

Experts will tell you that a day before the run is very important. You need to have good sleep, drink plentifully and have a light breakfast. Hence the night before my 5km run, I didn't sleep(who can possibly awake at 5am), ate chicken masala for dinner(protein dude) and 2 pegs of Whyte & Mackay(a little alcohol never hurts and is actually shown to be helpful). Thus armed, I walked to my pick up spot where my team mate, a freakish cyclist picked me up, who btw forgot his running shoes.

We reached in time, unlike last year where we reached the venue after the race began and still beat a whole lot of teams(shows how raring we were to win and how fit most Bangalore professionals are). The turnout was humongous, every Nike marketing professional's dream come true. The run as such wasn't so eventful. I mean yeah, there was a close finish and BIAL clinched victory from Toyota, but this wasn't exactly a race. It was only the first timers and really experienced ones who actually asked about timings, the rest (and most) were smiling like they had just had whiskey diluted with liquified laughing gas(like that makes any sense)

Those who usually wouldn't press another key without a raise were actually paying to get their asses kicked, and that too by themselves, awaking at ungodly hours and driving 20 miles away from the city. Weird people we runners are! Crazy, I tell you.

My team did quite well, timings aren't out and I don't really care (impatiently checks the organisers' website for the umpteenth time) This particular event is important to me, as it marked my real foray into this self-imposed ass kicking last year, since which I really took this up as a real hobby. Lots of realisms here. My grammar teacher wouldn't be impressed, but I'm sure my PT teacher would probably be full of glee.

For the uninspired, running events are usually good places to engage in bird-watching. Very fine plumage. I tell you. However, when the prettiest of .. ahem... birds runs past you without even a glance, doesn't really make you feel more masculine.

The event got over, we had brunch, had our pictures taken by a wildlife photographer, the car broke down in the middle of nowhere 20 metres away from a Punchur shop, that repaired all tipes of punctures, sorry.. punchurs. I reached home, had a bath and woke up 6 hours later with a stiff nick, an aching butt, dislocated collarbone(not really but I wasn't getting the third symptom*) and played tennis for an hour. Crazy, I tell you.

* there are always three of anything, ALWAYS.