(Me: Is there any other way to reach there? I don’t mind if it is longer!
X:Yeah… you can take a bus, but that will consume a lot of your time. )
See, I can run after DTC buses, change buses, go to places I have never been earlier… But sophisticated things like a metro with doors that open and close themselves send jitters into me.
But then there is no other option today. I will have to use the ‘great’ metro. I am worried. Last time I travelled in a metro was with a friend who managed everything while I kept wondering why I was so bad at reading maps.
Anyways, here comes bus no. 355. The conductor is shouting – ‘bags under the seats…’ Within sometime the narrow aisle will be jam packed with passengers rubbing with each other. Only thing that will be in your mind from now on will be that howsoever close they are, you still have to ‘somehow’ manage to take yourself out.
It wasn’t that difficult for me though. Four years of college are enough to teach you certain things.
Oh yes, I am confident. Barakhamba to Rajeev chowk, Rajeev chowk to vishvavidayalay…just two metros and I will be there. I will also take help from the map. In worst cases I will ask someone. This has been a technique I have always been using to find places. But even that is not again a very comfortable option for me, especially when someone replies something like – go straight, when the third red light comes, take a left , then take a right from the second red light and then blah blah…. I pretend as if I will remember verbatim was is said. But inside I say to myself – Rupali, go straight, reach the first red light and ask someone again.
Hey, by the way, it wasn’t difficult at all. I am inside the metro!
………………………
……………………….
The day was good and I am waiting for the metro at vishvavidayalaya to go back. “Excuse me, what should I do to reach New Delhi station”. I turn back to find a south Indian guy clad in saffron. His voice is quite a whisper. Perhaps, he does not want anybody else to know about his ignorance. But then to be true, someone asking such a question that too in a metro station is certainly an honor. I can not understand what he wants to convey though and therefore I will better direct him to a girl who is looking more familiar with the place.
All three of us- the ‘guy’, the ‘gal’ and me are inside the metro. The guy is sitting next to the girl. The girl is all dressed in pink…pink shirt…pink lipstick…pink hand bag, pink hairclips. I am not able to make out what exactly they are talking. He is explaining something to her and she is nodding. Suddenly she looks at me and mutters “ Who the hell is he?”. She again turns towards the pundit.
Hey the guy is gone and I will talk to the pink girl now.
Me: (smiling) How was it?
PG: kahan phansa diya the yar…chat mara pundit ne!
Me: My station is about to come. Tell me what he was talking about.
PG: He was from Sri lanka…came to meet his friend from Chennai and got lost…
By the way, how come you are here?
Me: You are talking as if you know me from ages. Anyways I came here to collect my admit card for fms.
………..
………..
Me: I am travelling in the metro by my own for the first time.
PG: So you aren’t any better than the pundit.
Me: You seemed interested in the pundit. Anyways, nice meeting you Lovleen!
PG: same here Rupali.
Indians are talkative. The can talk at practically all places and all times, with or without any good reason. Travel in a daily passenger train and you will know!
An elderly woman is telling somebody that she buys milk at 20 Rs per kg. Suddenly this skinny woman, sitting besides her, waiting for an opportunity to interrupt, will say with utmost pride“ I get it for only 15 Rs per kg” . This very ‘numerical’ conversation will then shift to how she always bathes in cold water even in winters without a miss or how she is always alert so as to never let her little son piss on the bed.
The other woman will then nod in appreciation and will even encourage her by pointing to how modern women use ‘huggies’ for their children. They will now discuss in ‘detail’ how ‘suffocating’ huggies can be to children and can lead to ‘further’ problems. While this desultory conversation keeps shifting, there will be a group of men busy talking about how far the crossing is, how many sugar mills the area has and what is the ongoing price of ganna, or how far the road is from the railway line.
To be continued……..
X:Yeah… you can take a bus, but that will consume a lot of your time. )
See, I can run after DTC buses, change buses, go to places I have never been earlier… But sophisticated things like a metro with doors that open and close themselves send jitters into me.
But then there is no other option today. I will have to use the ‘great’ metro. I am worried. Last time I travelled in a metro was with a friend who managed everything while I kept wondering why I was so bad at reading maps.
Anyways, here comes bus no. 355. The conductor is shouting – ‘bags under the seats…’ Within sometime the narrow aisle will be jam packed with passengers rubbing with each other. Only thing that will be in your mind from now on will be that howsoever close they are, you still have to ‘somehow’ manage to take yourself out.
It wasn’t that difficult for me though. Four years of college are enough to teach you certain things.
Oh yes, I am confident. Barakhamba to Rajeev chowk, Rajeev chowk to vishvavidayalay…just two metros and I will be there. I will also take help from the map. In worst cases I will ask someone. This has been a technique I have always been using to find places. But even that is not again a very comfortable option for me, especially when someone replies something like – go straight, when the third red light comes, take a left , then take a right from the second red light and then blah blah…. I pretend as if I will remember verbatim was is said. But inside I say to myself – Rupali, go straight, reach the first red light and ask someone again.
Hey, by the way, it wasn’t difficult at all. I am inside the metro!
………………………
……………………….
The day was good and I am waiting for the metro at vishvavidayalaya to go back. “Excuse me, what should I do to reach New Delhi station”. I turn back to find a south Indian guy clad in saffron. His voice is quite a whisper. Perhaps, he does not want anybody else to know about his ignorance. But then to be true, someone asking such a question that too in a metro station is certainly an honor. I can not understand what he wants to convey though and therefore I will better direct him to a girl who is looking more familiar with the place.
All three of us- the ‘guy’, the ‘gal’ and me are inside the metro. The guy is sitting next to the girl. The girl is all dressed in pink…pink shirt…pink lipstick…pink hand bag, pink hairclips. I am not able to make out what exactly they are talking. He is explaining something to her and she is nodding. Suddenly she looks at me and mutters “ Who the hell is he?”. She again turns towards the pundit.
Hey the guy is gone and I will talk to the pink girl now.
Me: (smiling) How was it?
PG: kahan phansa diya the yar…chat mara pundit ne!
Me: My station is about to come. Tell me what he was talking about.
PG: He was from Sri lanka…came to meet his friend from Chennai and got lost…
By the way, how come you are here?
Me: You are talking as if you know me from ages. Anyways I came here to collect my admit card for fms.
………..
………..
Me: I am travelling in the metro by my own for the first time.
PG: So you aren’t any better than the pundit.
Me: You seemed interested in the pundit. Anyways, nice meeting you Lovleen!
PG: same here Rupali.
Indians are talkative. The can talk at practically all places and all times, with or without any good reason. Travel in a daily passenger train and you will know!
An elderly woman is telling somebody that she buys milk at 20 Rs per kg. Suddenly this skinny woman, sitting besides her, waiting for an opportunity to interrupt, will say with utmost pride“ I get it for only 15 Rs per kg” . This very ‘numerical’ conversation will then shift to how she always bathes in cold water even in winters without a miss or how she is always alert so as to never let her little son piss on the bed.
The other woman will then nod in appreciation and will even encourage her by pointing to how modern women use ‘huggies’ for their children. They will now discuss in ‘detail’ how ‘suffocating’ huggies can be to children and can lead to ‘further’ problems. While this desultory conversation keeps shifting, there will be a group of men busy talking about how far the crossing is, how many sugar mills the area has and what is the ongoing price of ganna, or how far the road is from the railway line.
To be continued……..
