“Aadmi hai ki paagal” (are you man or mad) echoed in my ears as I was taking a nap in the Rajendra nagar express train while on a transit towards Patna. The question was irritatingly hurting my brain, the hurt was equivalent to getting a tight blow on the balls, I could hardly sleep as I wanted to discover who possibly could have uttered such a nonsense question and for whom. I wanted to witness the morons who were exchanging such toxic dialogues. I mean what possibly this could have meant and what exact action could have possibly provoked someone to utter it.
The voice was familiar; it was the same guy who has been praising Biharis for being at the summit in almost all sectors of successful career. Day before when I slept, he was talking about how Bihari students were rocking at IIT’s. When I woke up to the epic question, the topic was still IIT. Other guy had suggested that NIT’s were better than IIT’s. I know he was a kind of wrong but did he actually deserve such a stupid remark? Will he be able to live with this remark, will life be the same for him again or will he commit suicide because of serious depression. I was too irritated by the stupidity in the air and I left them to their respective destinies.
A very cute girl likes to listen to stories, I knew that I’ll be returning from my trip and she’ll be expecting me to narrate some stories. I had to kill approximately 30 hours while being in train; hence I had purchased a book named “Wayam Rakshamah” from a book store on some station. This book was in Hindi to its purest form. This book was supposed to contain numerous short stories in it. Ignoring these wise morons I started reading the book. I was left agape learning how poor I was in reading Hindi literature. Cursing myself I tried reading it but no significant luck with it.
My father gave me a book named “Who killed change – a case study”, the title was enough of a reason not to read it and another was being a gift from dad. I know his taste and it’s bitter for me but I was left with no option than to read it. It felt like a fourth grade kid reading Engineering Mechanics, anyways I earned my graduation soon. Finally my trip ended and the wise men were dissecting AIIMS, they had progressed too, the life was rolling.
My short trip to Bihar and Nepal ended before I could realize. I could not believe myself that I was on my reverse journey to Mumbai. I had not read any short story yet and had no clue where “Wayam Rakshamah” was hiding in my luggage. I went to a book store on Muzaffarpur station, unfortunately the bookstore had only Hindi book on them. I picked the thinnest book saying “Singhasan Bateesee”, a collection of 32 short stories.
Before I could settle in the train, the train had reached the next station. Stations in Bihar are with weirdest name possible; every time I hear the names I feel I am hearing it for the first time. Few names worth mentioning are Jhanjharpur, Jha Jha, Sakri, Maharail, Kaithinia, Partapur, and the list grows. I saw a book named “Two States” a book by Chetan Bhagat. An engineer must be trained for everything in life, right from changing bulbs at home to answering all technical questions my dad can ever ask (he often asks me about how things work and a correct explanation keeps him under impression that I am a true engineer), with this noble thought I bought a copy for myself. Just in case, I must be trained for a situation similar to one portrayed in this book, an inter-caste-inter-state marriage.
I quietly occupied a window seat and was pissed because there were too many children around and I knew very soon they’ll demand for my window seat. Their parents will request me to vacate it for the kids and I’ll be the worst person they have ever met for not honoring the request. I decided not to get into any conversation with the kids and their respective parents. An old man was sitting in front of me, he looked happy may be because he was de-boarding at Alahabad, hardly after 10 hours. I soon realized he had been staring at me for long, I was scared if he was about to ask me to marry his daughter. He reminded me of Hindi movies where in, the father goes insane and starts requesting random men to marry his daughter. I never wanted to be the hero of the movie who actually marries the daughter.
“Body is materialistic, soul is not. No individual organ of the body has intuition to progress but the soul does” said the old man. I jumped saying excuse me, what did you say!! “Yes you got it right” he said. I wondered if he could read my thoughts too, slowly gaining the control over situation I asked, what was the big deal about the Alahabad trip? He said he was going to attend some pravachan on knowing self. His adrenal pumped, I think he was waiting for someone to listen to his own pravachan and probably revise what he had learned in his life. I was a potential candidate for him, out of fear I perspired almost instantly.
I picked my phone, staged a fake conversation, donated my window seat to kids and relocated myself to an upper berth seat. I started reading the book “2 States”, occasionally I checked what the old man was up to, and he was still staring at me as a wolf looks at chicken on a thatch. I kept reading the book all night, I missed when Alahabad passed and the old man de-boarded the train, I kept reading without realizing that the passage light had been on the whole night and I had troubled enough of passengers.
Early in the morning one sympathetic passenger approached me and asked how I was doing? He said, he had been seeing me reading all night and was curious about which exam I was preparing for. I smiled and said, I was reading an interesting novel. He turned pale in anger as if I had asked for his daughter. I slept for a while and continued reading the book again. Sharp at 9:00pm a guy turned off the lights. Clearly a very insignificant issue to fight for, politely I requested the gentlemen to turn the lights on, stressing on the last word, but all in vain. I had to finish the book before reaching Mumbai as I won’t have time to finish it ever and Mumbai was just 7 hrs away. I was trying to sleep and suddenly the lights were on again.
The side lower berth was the TTC’s seat and he wanted the lights on to manipulate and account for his days earning. I thanked the TTC in my thoughts and continued reading the book. I managed to finish the book few minutes before the train reached the destination. I rushed to the restroom to wash my face and get ready to de-board the train. Returning from restroom I was surprised to find my book missing. I enquired about it to passengers around and no one had a clue. The book had just disappeared in thin air. It didn’t bother me much as I was already done with it; I think the book might have been picked by the same guy who had switched off the lights last night.
