The curious case of a Paatti getting trolled.

On the outset, Long distance trains are kinda cool. I had thought so, probably because

1. Other than the start and end point, most of the stations in between are reached at an unearthly hour.

2. Which implies, people do not pay much attention to these trains and it is easier to reserve a ticket.

I had lost all my hope on booking a ticket on the major trains from Coimbatore to Chennai when I managed to reserve not a seat but a berth on the Raptisagar express, which starts from Trivandrum in the south and ends at Gorakhpur in the north. A god given gift, I had thought. I was wrong, as usual.

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“Paathu poittu vaango, athae. Seshadriya ungala Chennai station la pick up panna solraen. Vish, paatti kitta saettai panninde irukkaadhe..”

I had been sleeping on the upper berth, dreaming that my empty compartment would be filled by girls (particularly in the age bracket 16 – 21), only to be rudely awakened by the gruff voice of an elderly woman.

“Kavala padaathe ma. I will take care. Rendu pullaya valathuttaen.. Ivana naan paathukkaraen. Nee marakkaama Chechu kku phone panni station kku vara sollidu..”

I knew I had made a mistake not performing my usual pre-journey ritual of mugging up the limited Jaadhagam of my co passengers from the reservation chart.

I was lying there facing the wall while my mind drew a mental image of the voice. Large pottu, hair silver-dyed by age, gold frame spectacles, a thick silk saree over a thick layer of fat – ‘Naduthara vayadhu brahmana penmani' – as Kamalhassan would put it in ‘Avvai Shanmugi’. I looked down to see a 90% match of the above stereotypes. Close enough.

On the other upper berth was a typical north Indian cheap labourer, easily spotted by their shabby clothes and paan filled mouth. He was mostly sleeping throughout the entire journey on a cloth wrapped package the size of a mini UFO saucer. Within the next one hour, the compartment filled up, with two more elderly paattis and two Keralite men taking up my seat. I wouldn’t mind them as long as my berth is not compromised too.

“Bathroom enna ippadi narradhu. Chae, Veli naadula ellaam evlo cleanliness maintain pannuva theriyuma..”  the naduthara vayadhu brahmana penmani (nvbp) proclaimed. Other than the two other paattis, nobody seemed to care. Mr.Hindikaarar on the other upper berth even (knowingly or unknowingly) yawned to the comment and turned to face the wall and continue his slumber. The three paattis struck a conversation which started with ‘politics in Indian railways and how it has affected the S8 compartment toilet’ and ended with the nvbp bragging about her sons working in the Saudi and their handsome salaries. Kekhraan Mekhraan thaane? Naanum kaelvi pattirukkaen.

The time was 5:00 in the evening when I ordered tea from the pantry vendors. I decided to check my texts before delving into the pleasures of IRCTC’s cardamom tea. One of the two keralites was playing with the 6 months old granddaughter of one of the paattis. He was throwing her up like a rocket and catching her while I was sitting with my legs wide apart and feet on the other upper berth near Mr.Hindikaarar. That little devil, during her entry into the earth’s atmosphere, knocked my hot cup of tea and it spilled all over those who were sitting beneath my berth. Nvbp looked up, saw my legs that were apart and the tea that was dripping, and remarked in a quirky tone “Apdi enna avasaramo..” with a cackle of laughter.  Yes, my piss smells like cardamom, thanks for noticing.

I decided to buy another tea and quench my rage with it. The tea vendor gave back my change for 10Rs and a blind woman who was begging shoved her empty hand near me. I was unable to deny her request as I was caught-red-handed having change. As the self-made philanthropist that I was, I decided to give her a 2 rupees coin but accidentally dropped it. She coolly bent and picked it up and vacated the place!

At about 6:30, Mrs Nvbp woke me up from my sleep.

Nvbp : “Thambi, can you come down and have a seat so that Vish can sleep for sometime.”

Me (not wanting to get trolled anymore) : “No, I want to sleep. This is my berth.”

One of the other paattis (an anglo indian) : “He is right. It is his berth. See the person on the opposite upper berth. I bet he doesn’t have a ticket. Guys like him never reserve berths. Wake him up and ask him to leave.”

Nvbp (after shooting me a look of pure loathing, tries to frantically wake up Mr.Hindikaarar) : “Yeppa. Hello thambi.. Endhiri pa.. See, this boy.. he wants to sleep.. you get down.. go somewhere else.. unreserved compartment..”

Mr.Hindikaarar (half awake) : “Chod dho mujhe.. Kuththe saale!”

Nvbp : “Ticket illannaalum Hindi onna therinjikittu vandhidaraanga.. Ivanungala ellaam police la pudichi kudukkanum. TTR vandha complaint panna poraen.”

TTR on that train was a myth and Vish never got to sleep.

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The train was 2 stations away from Chennai when Mr.Hindikaarar woke up with a start. He looked at his watch, looked down to see Mrs.Nvbp packing her suitcase and asked her

“Chennai station innum varaliya? Scheduled arrival 11:05 nnu thaane en ticket la pottirukku..”

So saying, he turned to the wall and started sleeping again.