Minister and the Jhelum Express

 

 

Minister And The Jhelum Express

 

 

Last week, a minister with time on his hands (as usual) and a burning desire to feel the pulse of the common men, decided to travel 2nd class from Pune to Delhi in India by the Jhelum Express. What better time to do this than the summer vacation when 75 percent of the Indian population is on the move – this was a swell idea indeed – a sweltering one to be precise!

 

 

Making a reservation wasn’t too bad. I took a little under two hours and what with the jostling crowd and the brusque lady at the reservation counter, things didn’t seem as bad as he’d heard. Little did he know that the fun was only just beginning.

 

 

A bombshell in the press a few days later roused the minister from his siesta. “Are you sure your railway reservation is genuine”? screamed the headlines. The article went on to give details about illegal reservations touts and black-marketing of tickets.  The minister was composure personified – his reservation was genuine and confirmed – or so he thought. D-day arrived and on making enquiries he was informed that the trained was ‘indefinitely late’ in railway parlance that could mean anything from 15 minutes to 15 hours

 

 

After what seemed like eternity in hell, the train finally arrived and in spite of being ‘free of all’ the Hon. Minister was shocked to see someone else occupying his berth. That’s not all, the other person’s reservation also showed him to be the rightful claimant to the berth! Accusations and abuses were freely traded with fellow passengers taking sides and giving suggestions, but before the acrimonious discussion could get worse, better sense prevailed. They both then decided to wait for the ticket collector to arrive and sort the matter out. This ‘God incarnate’ as usual arrived well after the official ‘lights out’ and make his presence felt with a lot of loud talk and boisterous laughter. Fellow passengers seemed to enjoy the banter and there was a general feeling of goodwill with a party atmosphere prevailing in the compartment well after 10:00pm.

 

 

Not recognizing the Hon. Minister, who was travelling incognito, the ticket collector glanced at his chart and ordered him to pick up his belongings and move elsewhere. Despite the fact that it was 10:30pm, who could dare argue, as two officious looking  Railway Policemen were accompanying the Ticket collector on his rounds and they sure made a fearsome trio.

 

 

At the new place, the window couldn’t be opened, the lights didn’t go off and the fan refused to work. Being the ingenious type, the  Hon. Minister took out his pocket comb and spun the fan into action. Then covering his face with a towel he tried to grab ‘forty winks’ amidst the hustle and bustle which continued unabated all night. Was this fun or what?

 

 

By 6’o’clock the next morning there was pandemonium let loose, with unauthorized travelers sprawled all over. Tradesmen plied their wares freely and the assortment of eatables and goodies available would have put a mini market to shame.

 

Our minister then completed an obstacle course and lined up near the toilet for his morning ablutions. The stench was unbearable and the water scarce. After struggling with jammed latches, broken taps and looking at his disheveled state in a cracked mirror, the minister was fuming. Things were really hotting up indeed!

 

 

At the next station he rushed out searching for the elusive tap and managed with difficulty to procure a mug full of ‘liquid gold’. Back inside and presto, his berth had been occupied by a lady with three children – all comfortable and smiling! Their luggage came in all shapes and sizes and among other things included a parrot in a cage, a sack full of wheat and a tricycle.

 

 

The happy family played ‘Arab and the Camel’ with the minister and soon occupied the full berth. The youngest knocked over the minister’s water and they all had a hearty laugh – the minister fumed once again and turned red under the collar. He was appalled at the chaos in a supposedly reserved compartment – the filth, the dust, the unauthorized passengers, the innumerable vendors – where was the ticket collector? The cleaner? The railway police? The water?

 

 

At the next stop the Hon. Minister could bear it no longer. He picked up his suitcase, got down and vanished – never to be seen again. Who can blame him? His disappearance remains a mystery forever.