Incredible NR(India)n !!

My train reached the station at 1030 hrs. as my newly acquired digital wristwatch read, a full 3 and half hours late. Some bengali 'kaku' and 'kakima's' were busy blaming 'mamata di',the Indian railway minister, who in turn might be busy blaming 'CPM' for the maoist infested areas and the blame game will encircle all the who's who of the country. But, pragmatically nothing would help except patience.
After alighting from the train we all started the rat-race to reach the 'Pre-paid' taxi booth. somehow my huge luggage did not allow me the speed and i reached to find a long queue. The taxi drivers came rushing asking for destinations and discussing schemes.
"kahan jaoge bolo, ekdum pre-paid ke daam lagega" was the most prospective one. After staying in Kolkata on my own for 3 years i have come to know the people who could be haggled with and won over. This was a sardarji and i knew i could trust him with my life, because he was so conspicous. How many sardarji's have you seen driving a taxi??
After 15 minutes of haggling, he settled for Rs.130 on share basis. Considering the long queue and the mismanaged 'Pre-paid'taxi system i agreed.
"ok ji aap wait karo, mai grahak dhoond ke aata hun" he muttered and vanished.
A gentleman standing next to me and eyeing me, now for a while, came up to me. His funny graffiti t-shirt had attracted my attention long before.He sported a french-cut beard and looked emaciated."Yes"i demanded.
"are you going to saltlake?"he asked in a heavily accented impressive voice. I nodded in response.
"actually, we have our reservations at 'Hotel,the sojourn' ,near salt lake stadium. The 'pre-paid 'taxi service is pathetic. The queue is not moving and i have a skin problem,i cannot stand in the sun." I was all sympathies. In the meantime the sardarji had spotted a half-firang talking to me. He came rushing, bumping into everyone on the way. I knew what was coming.
Before, the sardarji could blurt an exorbitant amount i budged in and started bargaining for him too. Why? i dunno. Perhaps, i did not want a foreigner to go back to his country and cull everything about India,as disgraceful, even the Indians. I knew that Rs.500 might not be a huge money for this old chap, but my conscience would not be satiated. Finally, after much haggling and a few scornful looks from the sardarji he settled for Rs. 220.
" i have another bag" the NRI said when we had trudged almost half the way.
So, when do you plan to bring it, in another life,dumbo."Why don't you bring it, i ll wait for you in the taxi." i replied and somehow managed a cool smile even in the hot &humid weather.
He handed me his bag and rushed back to get his remaining luggage. A smirk crossed my face, who leaves a bag in india with a complete stranger? and suddenly somehow i felt very proud of myself.
Sardarji was still furious over the alleged loss he had made on ferrying a half-firang, half way across the town for only Rs.220.
Mr.NRI returned with 2 heavy suitcases and a skinny woman dressed like she was planning on giving a presentation. But, she gave me a broad smile and her gratitudes for helping them and i immediately liked her. The engine coughed and we were on our way.
As soon as we left the station we were engulfed by the chaotic Kolkata traffic. My fellow travellers were awestruck. it took us almost 20 minutes to cross the Howrah bridge. Mrs. NRI was nagging all the time, sometimes to the extent that i was tempted to stuff my earphones and play some heavy metal, but hey, here i was the good Indian boy remember, so i stifled my emotions.
Once out of the town, she took me to be a travel guide and asked me about all the dilapidated buildings we came across. The sardarji could sense my irritation and gave me some wry glances. I ignored.
Later, she wanted to know everything about me. I restricted myself to the biographical details only, nothing personal. Then she stated telling me about herself and her family. Mr. NRI was very fond of India, he has a sister in Ranchi and hence they were coming in the same train as i was (for a second i was glad i never met them on train)as the flight they were scheduled for was cancelled.They have a daughter, studying in NUJS(law..aww) and immediately i was all ears:) they were going to stay in kolkata for a week then they would fly back (to where...i don't care). Then some more archaeological facts, some more nagging, some more queries until we reached their destination. I alighted from the taxi to see them off. The bell-boy came with a plastic smile and took the luggage inside. The lady thanked me earnestly,and for the second time in the day i liked her.
Mr.NRI handed me his visiting card which i slipped in my pajama-pocket, shook hands with him and bade him farewell. He handed the sardarji Rs.300 and said"keep the change" to which the sardarji drew a blank expression. It was only after i translated it that he beamed and gave me a triumphant look.
The sardarji dropped me home.
I reached my pocket for the keys when i felt the card.So,what could such a skinny,seemingly oafish but gentle man earn in a foreign land?After all if he could make it, it was cake for me.
I drew it out and glanced upon it. It read "Mr.(insignificant)" "DIRECTOR" :Orbit engineering consultancy""UAE".

The rail-girl !!

The train was surprisingly overcrowded today. The only problem with pasenger cars is that uncouth plebians flood it with the stink of their breath and jarring cacophony of native songs. Somehow, Abhi & i managed a seat beside a crumpled piece of bones. My face was twitched in a sneer and i looked misreable.Suddenly, my glance met a pair of beautiful brown eyes. It was a little girl of about 5years age. She was staring at me,perhaps because of my typical grump, and i got mortified. Her mother was lying prostrate beside her. From their clothes and appearance i could make out that they were from a very poor family,yet no grouch and such a peaceful snooze.
The train sped away from the station.One pecularity about Indian trains is the train of hawkers that come selling almost everything. A couple of them passed by us,one with 'jhal-muri' &another with ripe guavas. The lil gal looked expectantly both the times but dared not wake her mother. Later, i bought 'mungfali',marketed as 'time pass'. We started cracking the shell and munching the nuts, when i saw the gal giving it the same expectant look. I felt empathetic and offerd her some. To my surprise she denied it with a refined gesture, and turned her face away from us. How can a 4 year old kid, born into such a family be so cultured and stifle the pangs of hunger and desire with such mannerisms.
I wondered what her life would have been, had she been born into a rich family. She would be dressed in 'giny&Jony' sucking on a lollypop while patting her barbie. But, here she is dressed in soiled clothes, held together by safety pins. God knows if she'll ever see the face of a school. Heaven forbid any abuse to such a sweet little thing,given her circumstances.
The silence of this gal was very poignant. Her age was about 4 years old but her psyche was that of a 15 year old. My cousin is 12 years old and he still needs chocolates in tiffin and horlicks in milk, things perhaps this lil gal has not even heard of.
How often do we appreciate the child of a beggar or a wage-earner. Seldom, perhaps never. But, the same toddler if adorned by gaudy raiments and smelling of baby powder,seems so cute.Even professional photographers use a poor child's face only when they have to capture a catastrophe.
The train slowed down as it reached its final destination. The lil gal woke up her mother.The mother did'nt even bother to wash her face. They gathered their belongings which were 3 polythene bags full of muri(puffed rice).She gave me a sweet smile before leaving. I felt so desperate to help her somehow. I wondered, how much love i would have given her had she been my lil sister.But, even before i could wave her or smile back she was gone, lost in the multitude.