My Experiences With the Bangalore Express
Fifteen minutes later, I was at the station, with my entire luggage strewn around me, wondering how to carry everything to the train. A porter came along and offered to carry everything for JUST Rs. 120. I was shocked. Hundred and twenty rupees??? I gaped at him. I had a good 45 minutes before the departure of the train. So I decided to wait for a more reasonable porter.
But alas! The porters at the railway station seemed to have some 'Union' rules, according to which they all stuck by each other. None of them had the right to agree to a lower rate. Finally, half an hour later, I decided to part with Rs. 120, and gestured to the same porter to come and carry my baggage. After a verbal wrestle, he agreed to carry four of my bags and the suitcase for Rs. 100. I ended up carrying two bulky bags, and sighed in relief when the porter deposited my luggage safely in the train. He collected the 100-rupee note with a snort and departed.
The train chugged out of Chennai Central at 1 p.m. I settled down in my seat, and closed my eyes. Suddenly, I remembered that I had not had lunch. I thought, "Oh, God! What will I do for lunch?" I decided to buy something along the way - maybe at some station.
I looked around the train, and I was surprised that on a Sunday afternoon the train was nearly empty. Most of the seats were unoccupied. I stifled a yawn and looked out of the window. I was hungry. I kept hoping to see some vendors getting into the train selling edible items. No hawkers came. I waited for a long time. Finally, I fell asleep.
After about three hours or so, I was rudely jolted out of my slumber by a group of unruly people who were pushing and pulling each other in every direction trying to find a place to sit. What I saw around me bewildered me completely. While I had been asleep, people had been getting into the train, not by the dozen, not by the score - but in hundreds! The once-vacant seats were now literally overflowing!
The crowd comprised dozens of ticketless travellers, smelly fish hawkers and heavily built women with ill-behaved children hanging on to them, screaming in high decibels. The tranquil second class compartment was now an image of din and confusion. The helpless TTE tried to reason out with the crowd by asking them to move to the Unreserved compartment, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. He was jostled out of the way and violently pushed into the adjacent compartment.
I was getting a headache. This was getting unbearable. Amidst the wailing babies and screaming fish hawkers, somewhere a group of children started playing 'Antakshari,' singing all contemporary Tamil songs very enthusiastically. So much for "entertainment!" Humph! Just then, one fat lady (excuse me for being so crude) decided to use my shoulder as her temporary pillow as she dozed. My feeble attempts at politely waking her failed miserably. I had to put up with my protesting stomach, the noise around me, and the obese woman’s weight on my frail shoulders for what seemed like ages!
I tried to distract myself from the discomfort by playing some music on my Walkman. Alas! My relief was short-lived. My Walkman became the object of desire of a nasty two-year-old old brat sitting across the aisle. He grabbed it and insisted on dismantling it and inspecting its parts. I considered spanking the kid, but when I saw his mother, I changed my mind. She looked like a female Sumo wrestler, ready to attack! I could not risk getting my bones broken too - that my favourite travel accessory (the Walkman) was in pieces was bad enough!
Finally, I reached Bangalore with a growling stomach, a throbbing head and a bad temper, which was targetted forcefully at the porter. He turned out to be a kind man. I felt guilty for firing off at him like an AK56. I apologized to him, and paid him Rs. 10 extra before getting into the autorickshaw.
And with that, ladies and gentlemen, I began yet another of my misadventures.
