Everytime a train chugged in , the speakers at the platform would go into an overdrive, cackling instructions , barely audible .
The tea , chana , magazine and snacks vendors would pump up their adrenaline driven selling, adding to the decibels of cacophony. Thanks to the red shirted coolies, and blinking neon signs, people still were able to navigate, from one platform to another, from the entrance on platform number one , to the exit , on platform number six.
The passengers were of various hues. the coat-pant clad middle class gentlemen, the shirt and pant /pyjama clad brat from the village , exploring job options in this vast town. Then there were sari clad women , with bundles on their head , bearing the burden of centuries of poverty and want , ill-fed and grim, trundling along , with their male counterparts . The men mostly wore a flat footwear, and were bereft of any burden. The women walked barefoot , and carried , nonchalantly , all the luggage, however meagre. Uncomplaining, complying forever. Chivalry was probably unheard of, in this part of the country.
Three people peered down from the overbridge at the arriving and departing trains.There were hundreds of tracks , running into or away from each other. The crowd swelled and ebbed with each arrival and departure.
They had plenty of time to kill, as the person they had come to receive, had just informed them that her train was 2hrs late. The gent wore a khaki T-shirt, and that gave him a false air of authority, as khaki was the colour of police uniforms . He had two young girls with him . As all peered down at the trains , an old lady , her front tooth missing , stopped by , adjusted her grimy bundle on her head ,tapped her well-worn walking stick on the floor, and touched the khaki clad gentleman on his shoulder.
"Banaras ki gaadi kab aaiyil babuji?" She asked in bhojpuri. The gent turned , took one look at her and let out an ear splitting howl.
Here, we need to digress and explain a bit about the gent. The person in question was very much influenced by the stories of preternatural phenomena, afterlife , witches, ghosts , black magic and cults. Now, this happened at dusk, when the natural daylights recede, and human mind , especially the ones with fertile imagination, go into overdrive. The overbridge was deserted and dimly lit. The lady wore a saree that must have been white at some point of time . The missing front teeth and bulging eyes didn't help either.
In an alarm, the lady took two steps back. It was clear she mistook him for some one from the CRPF or some such informed personages.
The gentleman had obviously, mistaken her for one of those wandering , evil spirits that populate books on ghosts, B grade hindi movies and horror flicks of yore.Besides, he had no faintest idea about trains leaving for Benaras.
After the lady had beaten a hasty retreat, muttering curses about madmen, and the laughter of the two children had subsided, the heartbeat from the gent's heart did not calm , even when he slid a lopsided grin at his kids' hysterical mirth.
The tea , chana , magazine and snacks vendors would pump up their adrenaline driven selling, adding to the decibels of cacophony. Thanks to the red shirted coolies, and blinking neon signs, people still were able to navigate, from one platform to another, from the entrance on platform number one , to the exit , on platform number six.
The passengers were of various hues. the coat-pant clad middle class gentlemen, the shirt and pant /pyjama clad brat from the village , exploring job options in this vast town. Then there were sari clad women , with bundles on their head , bearing the burden of centuries of poverty and want , ill-fed and grim, trundling along , with their male counterparts . The men mostly wore a flat footwear, and were bereft of any burden. The women walked barefoot , and carried , nonchalantly , all the luggage, however meagre. Uncomplaining, complying forever. Chivalry was probably unheard of, in this part of the country.
Three people peered down from the overbridge at the arriving and departing trains.There were hundreds of tracks , running into or away from each other. The crowd swelled and ebbed with each arrival and departure.
They had plenty of time to kill, as the person they had come to receive, had just informed them that her train was 2hrs late. The gent wore a khaki T-shirt, and that gave him a false air of authority, as khaki was the colour of police uniforms . He had two young girls with him . As all peered down at the trains , an old lady , her front tooth missing , stopped by , adjusted her grimy bundle on her head ,tapped her well-worn walking stick on the floor, and touched the khaki clad gentleman on his shoulder.
"Banaras ki gaadi kab aaiyil babuji?" She asked in bhojpuri. The gent turned , took one look at her and let out an ear splitting howl.
Here, we need to digress and explain a bit about the gent. The person in question was very much influenced by the stories of preternatural phenomena, afterlife , witches, ghosts , black magic and cults. Now, this happened at dusk, when the natural daylights recede, and human mind , especially the ones with fertile imagination, go into overdrive. The overbridge was deserted and dimly lit. The lady wore a saree that must have been white at some point of time . The missing front teeth and bulging eyes didn't help either.
In an alarm, the lady took two steps back. It was clear she mistook him for some one from the CRPF or some such informed personages.
The gentleman had obviously, mistaken her for one of those wandering , evil spirits that populate books on ghosts, B grade hindi movies and horror flicks of yore.Besides, he had no faintest idea about trains leaving for Benaras.
After the lady had beaten a hasty retreat, muttering curses about madmen, and the laughter of the two children had subsided, the heartbeat from the gent's heart did not calm , even when he slid a lopsided grin at his kids' hysterical mirth.
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