Hi there. I'm back.
I've had a good vacation, rounded off with a rather, er, entertaining train journey back. You have to hand it to the Rajdhani - whatever it does, it does well. If it is on schedule, it is on schedule. If it decides - or is forced to - run late or take a detour (blame it on bad weather, Naxalites, Maoists, U.P.'s rivers flooding over, what have you...), there will be a delay you won't forget in a hurry. So, yes, I did reach 7 hours later than I was supposed to, tired, hungry and limbs cramped. But you can't possibly hold a train any grudges. Besides, I like trains.
I half-thought I would sit and rattle off all that I have been thinking about in the last few weeks, but that doesn't seem like such a great idea now. I can't plan my writing - it's got a mind of its own. So I'll write about something I've been ruminating over since last evening.
Now, I know there are more serious things to ponder and philosophise about, but really, what happens to us after we've waited out scheduled waiting periods and things take even so much as a minute longer? On the train, for example, we all knew, to begin with, that we would reach Delhi at least three hours late - at 1.30 p.m., instead of 10.30 a.m. It couldn't be helped - one peep through the windows and anyone could see how thick the fog was. It made sense to move slowly, didn't it? And everyone was okay with everything right up to ten o' clock or half-past. And then, suddenly, people began to get cranky. Suddenly, the air conditioning was pronounced inadequate, the linen unsatisfactory, and the washrooms intolerable. By eleven thirty, three passengers around me had snapped at the coach attendant for no apparent reason, and several had complained about the delay to friends and relatives over their phones. I know for a fact that I began to get restless soon after eleven. For some strange reason, sitting up became too uncomfortable, my Wodehouse omnibus not interesting enough, and lying down for a nap too difficult, because of my listlessness. When the train finally pulled in at NDLS at 5.15 p.m., the general consensus was that it was an enormous hassle to have to spend 24 hours on a train.
I wonder why it was such a big deal.
Don't get me wrong, I know several passengers were on tight schedules. Many may have missed important appointments or connecting trains. Many others may have been unwell or upset for other reasons. And true enough, better planning and improved technology and control on the part of the Railways would have meant less trouble - to the extent that the weather's whims can be worked around, that is.
I've had a good vacation, rounded off with a rather, er, entertaining train journey back. You have to hand it to the Rajdhani - whatever it does, it does well. If it is on schedule, it is on schedule. If it decides - or is forced to - run late or take a detour (blame it on bad weather, Naxalites, Maoists, U.P.'s rivers flooding over, what have you...), there will be a delay you won't forget in a hurry. So, yes, I did reach 7 hours later than I was supposed to, tired, hungry and limbs cramped. But you can't possibly hold a train any grudges. Besides, I like trains.
I half-thought I would sit and rattle off all that I have been thinking about in the last few weeks, but that doesn't seem like such a great idea now. I can't plan my writing - it's got a mind of its own. So I'll write about something I've been ruminating over since last evening.
Now, I know there are more serious things to ponder and philosophise about, but really, what happens to us after we've waited out scheduled waiting periods and things take even so much as a minute longer? On the train, for example, we all knew, to begin with, that we would reach Delhi at least three hours late - at 1.30 p.m., instead of 10.30 a.m. It couldn't be helped - one peep through the windows and anyone could see how thick the fog was. It made sense to move slowly, didn't it? And everyone was okay with everything right up to ten o' clock or half-past. And then, suddenly, people began to get cranky. Suddenly, the air conditioning was pronounced inadequate, the linen unsatisfactory, and the washrooms intolerable. By eleven thirty, three passengers around me had snapped at the coach attendant for no apparent reason, and several had complained about the delay to friends and relatives over their phones. I know for a fact that I began to get restless soon after eleven. For some strange reason, sitting up became too uncomfortable, my Wodehouse omnibus not interesting enough, and lying down for a nap too difficult, because of my listlessness. When the train finally pulled in at NDLS at 5.15 p.m., the general consensus was that it was an enormous hassle to have to spend 24 hours on a train.
I wonder why it was such a big deal.
Don't get me wrong, I know several passengers were on tight schedules. Many may have missed important appointments or connecting trains. Many others may have been unwell or upset for other reasons. And true enough, better planning and improved technology and control on the part of the Railways would have meant less trouble - to the extent that the weather's whims can be worked around, that is.
But that is not what my question is about. The frequent traveller to and from Delhi is bound to be familiar with the Purushottam. Stolid and dependable as ever, it seldom takes more than its stipulated 23 and a half hours between Delhi and Jamshedpur. If an entire day spent on board the Purushottam is not a problem, how come 24 hours inside the Rajdhani - with plusher berths, cleaner interiors, electrical points and fancy meals to boot - is such a trying experience? More intriguingly, how did everything become so hopelessly insufferable an hour into a delay we were already informed about? What happened to me and to 63 other passengers in B6 (and in the rest of the train, I have no doubt)?
It isn't about us on the train...it's about us and delays. About hating to wait even a minute longer than we have to, even when it cannot be helped by us or the other party. What is it?? I'm terribly curious! I am doubly keen to know because it is just not like me to find extra travelling a problem, and yesterday was one of the odd occasions when I did.
On a slightly different note, it's beautiful in Delhi right now. Freezing, yes, but also breathtakingly beautiful. If you'll just let your imagination take off for a bit, you could actually find yourself right in the middle of a fairy-tale, or inside a picture-postcard. Try it. It's worth suspending serious business for a minute or two. :)
2 comments:
I dont know why.. but i love this post of yours. i really do. There have been other travel posts. But I think I love this post because when I read it I know its one of my posts I never wrote. :)
Really excited to meet you little sis! :)
:) :)
Post a Comment