12401: Magadh Express-MZP to NDLS

Erebos starts for home today; which brings us to our start from Mirzapur aboard that medieval Magadh Express, replete with mysterial powers of keeping its floorboards and sidewalls linked to each other.
The last day dawned as all other days with one minuscule difference: our supervisor left on an early train that morning so he could be on time for a very important seminar that we would attend upon our return (we did attend it; I even have a picture of me dozing away very seriously in a corner). This meant that we went about our last day together unimpeded by the mellowest remonstration.

The more industrious ones were going about the place hunting down last bits of soap, paper towels and shampoo sachets with worried, I-think-someone-stole-the-drop-of-shampoo-I-left-by-the-sink looks on their faces. The true busybodies came along directing everyone to clean their rooms and the courtyard. They were joined in their chorus by Medussa, lurking overhead; the beast never came to say Goodbye.

Guessing correctly that very soon I will be asked to pitch in with a cruddy broomstick, I called an emergency Cartel meeting. It was a close shave, but we clambered out the doors and into an autorickshaw, our ears still ringing with T's shrill hoots of "come back and touch something disgusting" or words to that effect. Soon the four of us and B found ourselves safe, if a little jarred on the banks of the serene evening Ganges.

We savored the breeze, the setting Sun, the sandstone steps and its a good thing that we partook in this luxury in light of the pandemonium that followed. We took a boat on the Ganges, then we each insisted on taking over the oars by turns. Our boatman seemed amused, then resigned himself to looking at the far away horizon. Perchance he too had a box of memories to open and peek at, the moments right before twilight being the perfect time for such reminisces; or perhaps he was thinking how to swim to the shore in case these  batty kids wrecked his boat...

Evening had transitioned noiselessly into night by the time we awoke to the fact that our train was scheduled to leave exactly in two hours and B. and S. who had been assigned the responsibility of calling the magical magics were half an hour away from the nearest autorickshaw and I had twisted the truth about finishing my packing the night before. Hereon on, things proceeded as, well, brouhaha is a word that comes to mind.

We managed to get back to Medussa's lair without injury, S and B rushed back out as soon as we'd reached  in search of the mystic magics. When they arrived and were parked next to the pyramid of luggage, they seemed very small and insignificant. When I am stressed I tend to become philosophical so  I couldn't help but draw comparisons with our own inconsequentiality in the grand scheme of things. While I was having this epiphany, K. was dragging out her suitcase, my suitcase, two sleeping bags and a big bag of garbage; when I told her she complimented me on my insight and told me to get out of everyone's way. Suitcases and people (including those held by strings, I'll leave the rest to fertile imaginations) were piled on higgledy-piggledy and we were off. We went like the Dothraki tribe; the skilled/ strong men and pretty women got places inside the they-must-have-shrunk-since-the-last-time magics and others trailed along on foot through the Muddy Brown Waste-the 5 minute stretch from our burrow of 15 days to the railway station.
And what should we find there, but a total blackout. Like I said before, in Greek theater, scenes that would evoke great pathos in the audience were enacted off-stage... I will therefore leave it to your sympathies to envisage what happens when 30 people, demented by black-outs and mosquitoes have to scamper into the deep depths of dark vans and sort and collect 70 pieces of luggage, most of them threatening to burst open at the seams.
Said pieces of luggage were retrieved and cataloged, again in the awkward presence of curious strangers, pictures were taken to commemorate the moment and we found ourselves on the platform once more. Our supervisor, B and the mysterious voice that speaks on the public announcement system had all cautioned us against pick-pockets. The more anxious ones, therefore, kept jumping at shadows and seeing shady characters in trench coats with a hooks for hands in every corner.

Mirzapur makes quite a dough from its glass bangles and R, during her stay must have been responsible for about half of that. Against our better judgement, she put these, some 40 dozens of bangles in a cloth bag, nestled among towels and such like. You should also know that her backpack weighed more than her and apparently she had failed to account for gravity when she packed for the trip. Given this, it surprised no one when she found herself unable to board the train, with the bangle-bag in one hand and the non-confidence-inspiring door handle of Magadh Express in the other. Combine this with the fact that Magadh Express stops for only 5 minutes in Mirzapur and you will understand why the precious bag fell through the gap and under the train while S and K were using their combined force to hurl R into the train. The proprietor of the little place where we used to have our meals had very sweetly come to drop us off at the station. Seeing the chaos happening in front of the door, he came running and actually managed to retrieve the bag. Life and limb hanging by thread, we finally managed to get onto the train while yelling profuse thank-yous to the proprietor and other kind strangers. About 5 dozen of the bangles were in smithereens, the rest pulled through.

I haven't said this before, but there used to be a secret stash of green apple vodka behind a broken door-frame among noxious rags and spindly spiders. This had originally been put in place to help us live out dark times like checking the 366th verb for the 366th time and to observe our duties as keepers of the door. As it was, lively conversation, coke, bread and chips that looked like sections of a pipe got us through most nights. This meant that quite a bit of the supply still remained. This was carefully picked up and packed by B in midst of all the chaos, and for that we were profoundly grateful. A friend of ours had arranged for delectable kebabs to be delivered on the train when it stopped at Aligarh-that haven of kebabs and other Mughlai delicacies. These were had, followed by a swig each from the remaining stash (all this in complete and enveloping darkness, so as not to disturb others and more importantly to not let a word of this reach our supervisor who had innocent faith in us). The rest of the night passed without incident with occasional laments from R who had refused a soothing drink for her injured soul.

All too soon, the fortnight had passed and we were back amongst functioning loos and showers that actually worked. Still, for a time, K and I really missed washing our hair in the open courtyard while being yelled at by the Gorgon and her fiend. We also missed the little cups of very sweet tea in the morning, frisking our lunch for the more appetizing bits of food, eating boiled eggs that smelled like odomos and most of all, the poorly concealed gales of laughter as we talked and bitched while R drifted off with her back against the wall.

How time slips away...when you look back, it sits just out of your reach...tantalizing...just twinkling away...

For Bouncy

This one is for Bouncy, K, S, R and everyone who has ever had or ever hopes to have a dog. There is no love greater than that between you and your puppy...Everyone else has a reason to love you and for everyone there is that one thing that will make them hate you, or leave you. Only your puppy loves you without rhyme or reason, for good or for bad, in sickness and in health, with all his heart and all his soul.

We met Bouncy one rainy afternoon in September, 2011. We had our first glimpse of him as we turned the corner; he was tentatively checking the gate with his nose. This was a steady and relentless pursuit of his. Every now and then he would check to see if anyone was looking, then gently push the gate with his weeny little snout. And by God, every now and then, his optimism would pay; the gate would be unfastened and off he would go. We were witnesses to quite a number of Bouncy's frequent bids for the great big world outside. There was little use running after him and so K would just unlock her car. At this he would prick up his funny, floppy ears and come bouncing back straight into the car.
When we first met him, he came up, gave us a hearty sniff of approval and didn't leave our sides for the rest of the afternoon. Bouncy had had his tail docked even before he came home to K, so as other dogs wag their tails, he would wag his teensy little butt. And when sometimes S would hold his butt still, he would keep wagging the little stump of his tail with continued enthusiasm and vigor...

Bouncy was part of every all-nighter we ever had at K's place. Whenever there were a lot of people, he would run around, trying to sniff everyone, know everyone and play with everyone, and chase some lizards, time permitting. I remember one time when K and I were cooking in the kitchen and he and Shadow were sitting right outside, heads tilted in frank curiosity because obviously, they weren't allowed inside. I saw Bouncy slowly inch his paw across the line that divides the dining room from the kitchen. Unfortunately, K. noticed and whipped around, ladle in hand and said 'Why is there a paw?' He gave a guilty start and then quickly pulled his paw back. Then he gave us such a wounded look that it was all we could do to not pick him up and bring him into the kitchen. So, instead we stopped cooking and spent the rest of the evening sitting on the couch in front of the TV cuddling Bouncy between us.

Bouncy's attempts at adventure were determined and persistent. The perils of these became apparent one night when he ran away from us as we were walking him. Shadow ran after him and he made his appearance a few minutes later, looking disgruntled, straining against the leash that was now securely in Shadow's mouth. K, meanwhile had become infuriated with worry and he got an earful. When we went back inside and sat on the couch, he came over to my side and refused to talk to K for the next few hours. He fell asleep and all seemed forgiven and forgotten the next morning, especially as he took another shot at running away again as soon as we opened the gate to take him out for his morning constitutionals.

Bouncy seemed to especially enjoy sleeping all curled up in a coma on S's lap. S wouldn't move all night, so as to not disturb him and Bouncy would go on sleeping, snoring slightly and creating an ever increasing drool pool. In this respect, he was a lot like me. He would do this on nights when K and S wanted to watch cheesy Bollywood movies; so there we would be, Bouncy on S's lap and me sprawled on the sofa, snoring and drooling in harmony.

K used to put Bouncy on a leash and then take him and Shadow for a walk every morning; Shadow can walk without supervision, he is not easily excited... But after a particularly long night, sometimes K would leash Shadow instead of Bouncy and open the gate. On such occasions, Bouncy wouldn't run away immediately. He would spend a few seconds staring between the gate and K's face with an expression that said, "Really???" As soon as K made the slightest move to grab his collar, he would shoot out the gate. And then the same trick with the car would have to be repeated.

Over the years, Bouncy had quite a number of gastrocolic adventures including the time he ate about 70 balloons. K had just bought the packet for the annual Farewell party decorations and kept it on her table. She stepped out for a minute and when she returned, the packet was nowhere to be found and Bouncy was sitting under her table looking contended, if a little confused with the taste and texture. For the next 10 days, K had to count the balloons as they exited Bouncy, morning and evening.
Another time, he killed a rat, then decided he didn't want to eat it and instead respectfully offered it at K's feet. Imagine his consternation, when instead of a pat and a treat, K. jumped up on her chair and in the general sense of the term, had a fit.
Bouncy also had this thing where he would pick up something to eat, decide he didn't like it after all and plop it back down. He would return in a while, pick it up again, decide he definitely didn't like and plop it down again. He would then leave said slobbery object on the floor for K to dispose off. Sometimes Shadow would  come along and oblige by eating Bouncy's reject before any of us could stop him.

One of the funniest things about Bouncy was that he was really scared of this air-gun K had. You just had to pick it up, point it at him and say "hands up!". He would sidle under a table and look like he would give anything to have hands so he could put them up.

Our stories, adventures and memories with Bouncy are many. Whenever we would spend a night at K's, we would know that we would be woken up in the morning with Bouncy staring right into our eyes in spirit of great investigation, wagging his butt so hard, it might just fall off...
Bouncy was loved by everyone he ever met. And we all are the luckiest for having been friends with him.    

Cons, schemes and keepers of the door

And so we get here... By this time we are somewhere midway on the field-trip timeline. Let me then introduce that diabolical duo-their coming was predicted by the oracle at Delphi-the mean, the nefarious, the archetypes of  hypocrisy-D. and A.
D. was nice, bright, always decently dressed, not a stitch out of place, cognizant of womanly manners, pristine (no carnality before the blessed state here)-in short an apotheosis of what every woman like me dreads becoming and every father hopes that his daughter is. Oh and also, she was a teetotaler-so there you go...
D. had been in a snowy, immaculate relationship for 6 years when this story opens ( I'm guessing that was the problem) and for 1 and 1/2 years we thought she was perfectly happy though not completely awake to the perils and challenges of a not-so-unblemished relationship.
A. was one of those men who you look at and you just know- prohibitionist (and not just about alcohol <nudge, nudge, wink, wink>), gets up in the morning and bathes in cold water, then spends a couple of hours on inane rituals because Mama-said-so and turns up for class with hair parted down the middle as if with a straight ruler; in short the kind of person you cannot look at for a few seconds before being overcome with the urge to give him a wedgie. He was also a vegetarian and one year our senior.
This not-inappreciable blemish on humanity was chosen by our supervisor as one of our chaperons; he would soon come to lament this rash decision. In fact, by the closing of the fortnight he would wish he had never even allowed A. into the program, let alone suffer him through six semesters.
A, of course had never had a girlfriend (who can blame the girls!),despite posting pictures of himself posing in a frazzled, slightly yellow undershirt on Facebook, I might add.
D. is not un-comely and to A's deprived state she must have looked nothing short of angelic. The first hint of sparks were observed in the rattling, drafty compartments of Magadh Express when D. transformed into a vulnerable damsel in distress, alone at the mercy of highwaymen, without hat or purse or a knight to call her own and informed us almost apologetically that she was mortally afraid of heights, even the 5 feet that separated her assigned bunk from that medieval plank that passed for a floor on Magadh Express. As it is, it did not make much of a difference which bunk you were on when the ability of the planks to remain attached to the rest of the train was chancy at best.
She was demurely suggesting spending the night sitting at the feet of another when A. rode in gallantly with the offer of his lower bunk so she could get the beauty sleep she so needed. D. of course conceded with a coy little head-tilt and gave A. a long, slow glance full of promises before drifting off to sleep. A. didn't sleep that night, instead he patrolled the 50 meters between the lavatories, chin up, chest out.
D's journey in woes and tribulations continued much to the delight of A's misplaced sense of chivalry and our frank amusement. Sure, the twisted ankle because of P. and the beast on the threshold was genuine enough, so you might say A's procurement of a raised plank on which D could sit and wash her dirty laundry in public (Oh, pun very much intended) was also legit enough. But the maiden seemed weighed down by malaise more and more everyday.
Note here that D seemingly being the apotheosis of immaculate womanhood, etc, etc had led us to believe she was very much in love and neck-deep in commitment.
You can therefore imagine our astonishment followed quickly by regalement when on our very first day on the field D. swooned in the throes of a migraine and spent nearly an hour resting in A's strong arms; this in a very crowded and rickety magical Magic with 20 pairs of eyes looking (in case of the prudes, fleeting glimpses) and 20 pairs of ears straining to catch every whisper.
Over the next few days, D. and A. seemed happily oblivious to the fact that the most stolid of us had cottoned on to their covert little affaire, if you will. Not that they tried to hide it, really; they just seemed to have implicit faith on the burdens and self-absorption of modern times that allegedly make people blind to what other people are doing and also render them incapable of comprehending what they see. Which just goes to show how unreliable modern times are; for we saw and we comprehended.
And as a result of this seeing and comprehending, focus shifted from K. and N. who had just started dating to these, more detracting plains. So, in a way, D. totally stole K.'s thunder. I will avenge you yet, K...
Things came to a pass one night when our Supervisor walked in on them;okay, so he was just walking, the fact that he walked in was because they were ahem... 'sitting on a tree' right in middle of the passage that led from the rooms to the broom cupboard we called a bathroom.
He asked us what their relationship status was like outside the classroom and we (okay, I) expeditiously apprised him of D's purported commitment and the details of her 6 year old relationship(there weren't many details given the squeaky cleanness of said relationship). At this point, (if you haven't guessed so already) yours truly comes out as the antagonist in this tale. In my defense and despite my propensity for sardonic roles, what happened next was decreed long before my awakening to my true potential as harbinger of deliciously scandalous times.
Our supervisor listened, then gave a resigned sort of sigh and said that he wished they had held back until the trip was over and their problems were somebody else's.
Around the time we are in this story, the haze was looming ever closer and then one morning the storm broke loose...
D and A disappeared for over 4 hours and left their cellphones behind. Our supervisor went berserk and search teams were formed, ready for dispatch. We tried to point out the futility of these operations and told people to be happy for D and A. After all, their ship had finally sailed, if you catch my drift. Those not of our sunny disposition remained un-amused.
One can understand our Supervisor's departure from his usually genial inclinations; as I have said before D was the daughter every father wanted, including her own and I think our Supervisor feared the repercussions should the union prove to be blessed.
For the rest, their lack of general good cheer can be attributed to a general lack of action for a fortnight. But I am not selfish like all others, I was happy for them and also I was really enjoying sitting back and watching the fireworks. Some beer and popcorn would have absolutely sealed the golden pyramid atop our joyous obelisk, but one can't have it all in life... So we reconciled ourselves to the chips and coke at hand and the gossip continued with renewed vigor well past the wee hours. You see, around this time we had started running out of things and people to bitch about and D and A breathed fresh live into our grapevine; which had been the point to begin with.
Anyway, D and A turned up sometime before lunch and then spent an hour ensconced in a room with our Supervisor while we took turns listening outside. There isn't much to say here, he basically told them to cool it till we got back home. After that he didn't give, well he didn't give anything...
A few days later we were sitting on the stairs that led to the terrace (beast and hag were nowhere to be seen, probably napping). We were just out of sight of D and A and their group of confederates and we heard them   gathering downstairs and conniving about a secret trip to Varanasi.
It goes without saying that we stayed quiet as mice (as someone who has had mice living in her drawers, I assure you they are not quiet at all) and just took it all in.
Now this trip had already been proposed and rejected (a) due to lack of funds and (b) because Shivratri was upon us and Varanasi at this time is reduced to a drunken glob of tottering masses. It seemed although that this had done nothing to deter D and A's determination to prove that they were in the real thing and not just slaves to baser instincts. They also seemed to have accumulated a bunch of allies all of who had a dead resolve to be in Varanasi on Shivratri ; a resolve born of manic devotion. This assemblage of geniuses were planning to take a lone boat along the vast expanse of the Ganges in the misty haze of 4 o'clock in the morning. I don't know what their plan was for explanations when they returned or for any chance of obtaining their degrees.
Sometimes I wish we had let them go, but I thought it would be more fun to tell our supervisor. He seemed almost too tired to be perturbed; he called the coven to his room and told them that if they went forward with their plans, he would be forced to revoke their degrees. As they came out, a dejected sight, they came face-to-face with us. There was a very pregnant pause and then they filed past us and went to bed.
After this, things seemed to have reached an impasse. We stopped talking to them, they started throwing us burning looks of pure, unadulterated hatred. Friends became enemies and everything just blew down in flames.
Even after this episode, we were not entirely sure that they had completely abandoned their carefully planned undertaking. So, we took to sitting in front of the main door every night till the cock crowed, thus becoming the keepers of the door. We all heard hurried whispers and scurrying footsteps sometime or the other but we held our positions as the self-elected Night's Watch, ready and well-appointed with tubes of odomos, bags of chips and occasionally and for reasons unknown, boiled eggs...We could have made a fortune going into private security together...
For those of you wondering what became of D. and A., well D moved away to another University after this. I hear A also intends to move there soon. D hasn't broken up with her beau of six years either. Both A and aforesaid beau attended our graduation and farewell together; so I guess an amicable time-sharing settlement has been reached.