Chal...Chayya! Chayya!

The visual perspective when we are working and when we are not are utterly different. Working and not working should be sorted out as ‘with Job’ and ‘Jobless’ correspondingly, to remove the confusion of people who have a Job but not working.

 My friendship with trains started with the local trains in Mumbai. I was not that much into long distance train journeys. You can catch mid-night aircrafts (the Indian ones coming from Sand Dunes in the Middle East to Kerala via Mumbai); when you are drawing a salary.

It was a great experience in understanding and learning by-heart;

-Where to stand to penetrate the IInd class coaches,

-Which door side to descend, How to move inside and outside the train with the mob in 15 seconds,

-How to enter the train without falling between the tracks (Falling on the platform is not considered),

-How to run in the station to catch the particular train, -How to hang on without hitting your head on the electric and signal posts,

-How to keep your eyes off the Shiv Linga of those acting and non-acting ‘Hijdas’,

-How to keep the mind cool while seeing a part of a human body or the whole of it on tracks,

-How to tackle the TTR,

-How to make use of a 3 centimetre square area and stand like a crane,

-How to dodge the pan spitting etcetera, etcetera.

Moving from India’s Functional capital to the IT-City made me closer to my native. I became a frequent traveller to Kerala every weekend. Thanks to the Low Floor Multi Axle Volvos operating. But it didn't take me long in changing to an Ordinary Volvo passenger, then to an A/C Bus, to an Airbus, then to ordinary state permit buses. When that also was making my pockets light, I became a Train ‘ami’. Thanks to the online booking services and offerings (Even a low class Toddy shop has a more user-friendly website.)

The trains are superb than their website. I think only Keralites take ticket; Any type of reservation is enough. A bottle of ‘coloured’ mineral water would help you off. Half Kilo of Onion would also aid you in getting a sleeper from any type of ticket as it costs more than an average bribe. The coaches are so beautiful except they are allergic to water. Carry some newspapers if you are in a non-A/C coach if you don’t want to drench yourself in your sweat or other’s. Be careful if the fan is working as you can get your hair or fingers inside it.

The meal in Southern Railway is a million-dollar business. Please give priority and preference to the chai-wallas waiting outside the urinals, as they have to make tea inside, on time. Carry a stick or at least an Air-gun to shoot the ferocious fish jumping out of fish curries. Don’t panic if you see a family standing up and offering prayers, most of the people give respect to the old chickens in the biriyani.  

The urinals should never be washed as everyone love to see the previous meal inside that and vomit. You could be penalized if you use the urinals when the train moving, so use when the train stops at a station. Time moves so fast as you enjoy the daily state meetings of mosquitoes inside. It’s not in the railway dictionary of the workers to wash the compartment floors. Your luck if some beggars singing the latest movie songs do the sweeping. 

One station to another, slower than the slowest snail, from there to another;

‘Subh Yathra’

Tail Piece: Kerala is getting a railway coach factory? Great! All the Coaches would go to the North. Good for the Buffalos, Farming tools in the first class, and sacrosanct cows in A/C.

© www.aksphere@blogspot.com

Putrid Fresh Digits

2010: Happy New Year

Was that something great? Every year the message comes in the form of SMS, Personal mails, Spam mails, Forwards, Attachments; Happy New-Year! Huh! The only thing I noticed or came into my mind was that the last two digits have changed. It struck me hard; I was only considered about the last digit that has to be changed under my sign every year. (I started to sign authentically just Ten years before), now the Zero has to be altered into Numero Uno.

What had happened with the transformation from ’09 to ‘10. Any routine change? Any drastic or dramatic change? The sun rises in the West or the crow grew breasts to feed its siblings? No! The sun comes from the East and the crow carries a dirty earthworm. ’10 never stopped the people to slow down their pace unless it increased a bit. The Psychology of the society hasn't changed much. 

The aroma that carried over from the last pages of ’09 was the immorality drama of a politician. The jackals won’t allow a politician to spend a night with his lady cadre, but roar out loud without a proof of a money transfer for sexual pleasure or a live sexual activity show. My Left Foot!

A sharp ultrasonic wave passing through my ears shook me up from all these crap. It was originating from a child who was crying as loud as he can; he might have lost his plastic toy while the vehicle went pass the speed breakers of massive proportions. Forty-five minutes in the bus; from the railway station to my home town, almost fifteen times both the buses have gone past each other on the highway race course. Each of the buses was whooshing past each other barely missing the pedestrians, mo-bikers and even the side mirrors of the cars. They are the Goliaths nick named as LIMITED STOPS. The horns were like twenty trumpets blowing, Aahhh! Kurukshethra War! A lemon played its role by rolling between the legs of the passengers finding its way back to the sack from which it has fallen off.

Except for me it was common and no one was in a panic situation; especially seeing the conductor moving his way through the crowded pathway collecting money and distributing tickets with this saliva smeared fingers. The whistle dangling from his left little finger was talking to the currency notes that where entangled between his forefinger and middle finger. The pen sitting on his right ear made some obnoxious comments too.

Was it a revenge to get more trips after a three day Bus-Strike? Hartals, Bandh, Bus-Strikes... 2010! Giggle! It would not be rude if you whisper “GOD wanted to see Hartals and Strikes, so made PARASHURAM throw his AXE” (...that's what the epics say!)

Thanks to the driver who drove expecting the unexpected, the conductor who whistled the same time your first foot landed on the ground from the foot-board, or the unknown power; Thanks to whoever has the highest vote.  I landed on my home town walked towards my house.

Tail Piece: Thank GOD! For the next Ten years I just have to consider only the last digit.
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Superfluous Notion

Briskly turning the pages of the future, while doing a Mural, I couldn't find anything structured. Even thought of changing my spectacle lenses for a second. Should I bother and scribble out the future plans and prepare a flowchart to follow or break of from the thought. Is the continuous braying of the society to be blamed for making me think of arranging the letters and words on the future pages?
People of the society are not like a two sided coin. They are Eight sided octagonal structures living just to judder their boneless creature a lot, by rubbing and smooching the thirty-two white beautiful fairies.

Hope around 36 Percent of the people who read the blog will have the same experience. The other 61 people think of several things and make themselves and others drag into the black hole of tension and blood pressure.
The rest 3 percent?

Anyway I continued entangling with colours and enjoying some lines and curves and grooves on the canvas.
Just a story before you think about the rest 3 percent! A Story of a Millipede...

He was jovial, tension-free Millipede. He went through creepy woods crushing small dry leaves and petals with its million legs and made friends with all the people whom he came across. He loved each and every spec of his time. He never used up his time thinking on how it could walk or bothered about it. Until one day, when a big black creepy Dung-Beetle rolling a stinky globule of dung asked our Millipede “How can you control and manage to walk with all those Million feet? Don't you find it tough to coordinate the rhythm?” The Dung globule had already gone rolling and vanished in the grassy backyard, while the Millipede was still sitting down, pondering how it could walk, wondering what the beetle had asked, and (for the first time in his life) even worrying a little bit, confused why he never thought that before. From that day on, the centipede couldn't walk anymore, lost all the interest in his life. Now a days he crumples into a ring whenever someone comes to make friends with him.

So you better not think too much if you want to reach or accomplish something. And of course this is a story and with only half the genuineness... Giggle! Giggle! Hey 3 percents, Just to impress the rest of the pack! The Ninety-Seven brains.

Image Courtsey: iastate.edu
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