Welcome aboard the Delhi metro!
Who says strangers can't be family? All it needs for them to bond, is one drunken commuter. The moment I boarded the Blue line train at Kirti Nagar, I knew it would be a fun ride. After a few minutes, the bonding had ended. And the conversations began. And it was all because of our drunken chowkidar( it was my metro family, you see), who was sitting supporting himself on his left hand, with saliva constantly dripping and cleaning off the mud on his right. He must have fallen off on road before. But that never perturbed my younger brother. The way he was pointing and chuckling, I was afraid chowkidar would wake up. But my Chachu held him down, and he controlled his chuckles. Dadaji was eyeing him with such perseverance and effort, despite what I gauged was a definite lack of vision and a constant itch in his long white beard, he might have forgotten his station in his avid concentration. But he didn't. And when he deboarded, Bhabhi entered. I respectfully offered her my seat. So did my younger brother. She obliged him. I remained standing. And then in a slowly dwindling panache, she asked the chowkidar, "Kya bhaiya, jyada pi li kya aaj?" Then she looked at Chachu, and obviously got the message. She restrained herself from taking this talk further. But the (entertainment for me)/(torture for those not deboarding at next station) had started. Everyone joined in the laughter, the advices started, and the coherence of all the laughs and the sneering was mesmerizing. The chowkidar had his own gibberish telltale, and before it could get any boring, I got out. I think Bhabhi also changed cabins there. So only Chachu and my younger brother were left to enjoy the show.
What a pity!
It is strange how the world behaves. In my commute from Peeragarhi to HauzKhas, I change metro twice. And in the three trains, only once did such a cabin exist, bounded by the mutual hatred and disgust of the drunkard, and collective sympathy for the ones suffering from his malodorous aura. A common enemy units us all. Nothing else matters then. No Khan(Dadaji), no Pundit( Chachaji), no north, no south(Bhabhi). In an empty space inside our head, we need somenone to hate. Lets keep that space filled. But fill that space judiciously.
The man who started it all!Who says strangers can't be family? All it needs for them to bond, is one drunken commuter. The moment I boarded the Blue line train at Kirti Nagar, I knew it would be a fun ride. After a few minutes, the bonding had ended. And the conversations began. And it was all because of our drunken chowkidar( it was my metro family, you see), who was sitting supporting himself on his left hand, with saliva constantly dripping and cleaning off the mud on his right. He must have fallen off on road before. But that never perturbed my younger brother. The way he was pointing and chuckling, I was afraid chowkidar would wake up. But my Chachu held him down, and he controlled his chuckles. Dadaji was eyeing him with such perseverance and effort, despite what I gauged was a definite lack of vision and a constant itch in his long white beard, he might have forgotten his station in his avid concentration. But he didn't. And when he deboarded, Bhabhi entered. I respectfully offered her my seat. So did my younger brother. She obliged him. I remained standing. And then in a slowly dwindling panache, she asked the chowkidar, "Kya bhaiya, jyada pi li kya aaj?" Then she looked at Chachu, and obviously got the message. She restrained herself from taking this talk further. But the (entertainment for me)/(torture for those not deboarding at next station) had started. Everyone joined in the laughter, the advices started, and the coherence of all the laughs and the sneering was mesmerizing. The chowkidar had his own gibberish telltale, and before it could get any boring, I got out. I think Bhabhi also changed cabins there. So only Chachu and my younger brother were left to enjoy the show.
What a pity!
It is strange how the world behaves. In my commute from Peeragarhi to HauzKhas, I change metro twice. And in the three trains, only once did such a cabin exist, bounded by the mutual hatred and disgust of the drunkard, and collective sympathy for the ones suffering from his malodorous aura. A common enemy units us all. Nothing else matters then. No Khan(Dadaji), no Pundit( Chachaji), no north, no south(Bhabhi). In an empty space inside our head, we need somenone to hate. Lets keep that space filled. But fill that space judiciously.
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