Cutting it close

As the auto-driver dodged a group of college-girls on the wrong side of the narrow by-lane, spitting paan and sending vehicles and people diving for cover, I glanced at my watch, “Shit! 10 minutes before the train pulls out,” I thought, “…We’ll be cutting it close!”

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Hurriedly finishing our quick-fix bowls of Maggi, Manish and I thought we might just make it to Seetaphalmandi station for the 3:15 MMTS to Secunderabad. Little did we know the adventure (we or at least I’d learn not all adventures are fun) that awaited us. This was Manish’s first trip to Calcutta after he’d shifted to Hyderabad 2 months back to work with the Bank Of America. Anyway, the train was late (and that’s not unusual), and we were thinking that it might just be a good idea to not wait any longer and take an auto the Secunderabad, for the Falaknuma Express departed at 4pm.

…And, we almost did go, when a small miracle (or it seemed one then) and we heard a train approaching. No point waiting for the MMTS now surely, I asked Manish to double-check the name, and yes, it said ‘somewhere-to-Secunderabad.’ Cool then, we hopped on. And let me tell you I’d done this several times, on my way back from work or something – if it said Sec-bad and was heading in the direction, it was a safe bet. Obviously, a train that says ‘Secunderabad’ has to go to Secunderabad, right?

Well, wrong! But we realized too late! The train switched to a parallel track and soon the metal lines it rolled on skewed away from Secunderabad. Relax, must be a different platform, I thought. That changed soon to ‘not good’ as we completely faced away now. “Bhaiyya, yeh train Secunderabad nahi jati?” we asked one of the passengers, but we knew the answer already – it was headed for the godforsaken “Somewhere” and not to “Secunderabad!” What? How’s that possible? It said Secunderabad, so it had to go to…No time to logic it now, we were just praying for a station…any station, and I saw my watch…3:30!

For a moment, we thought it would take us all the way to “somewhere” without stopping. Manish even suggested, “Jump kar jaayen?” “What? Pagal hai kya?” I offered. A saner idea (comparatively saner, that is) was whizzing through my mind, “To stop train, pull chain!”

Thankfully, it stopped on its own. At Lalaguda. Alright, there’s hope. I’ve seen this station before. “Manish, tu auto rok, main suitcase lata hoon.” I was calculating in minutes now. Amazingly enough, the usually practical Manish displayed amazing propensity for dumbness now. He refused an auto because the fellow asked for 50 Rupees. “What?” I couldn’t believe it. Another 5 minutes, and thankfully, this guy agreed, saying “Challis rupae.” I’d have agreed even

for 100 now!

We were racing the clock now, but the 7-or-something bhp auto-rickshaw was definitely not. We went through roads and lanes I was certain I’d never seen before. Until we reached Marredpally, and then neared Secunderabad.

The smart-ass driver refused to take the route I told him, and drove into a narrow side-lane…

only to line up behind a row of barely-budging buses. Damn!

It was only now that the auto-driver seemed to register we were in a hurry, and suddenly, in a sudden burst of adrenaline and fuel-injection, he jerked the throttle, turned a sharp right and sped. As he dodged a group of college-girls on the wrong side of the narrow by-lane, spitting paan and sending vehicles and people diving for cover, I glanced at my watch, “Shit! 10 minutes before the train pulls out,” I thought, “…We’ll be cutting it close!”

Paying the auto, half-running, half-dragging the luggage, by the time we entered Sec’bad station, we were counting down 5 minutes! We were on platform 1 and had to get to 10! Not sure how, but as we jerked, and jostled, bumped and turned this way and that, went down the foot over-bridge, and counted off from S6 down to S13, we had done in under 5-minutes (A process that easily takes 15!). Panting, we climbed on, pushed Manish’s suitcase under his seat, and looked at him!

Both of us had sweat on our foreheads, and traces of tension still writ on them!

“Not bad,” I offered, looking at the watch with relief now. “Yeah” Manish said. We both knew it was stupid, but couldn’t help smiling now. We’d learnt our lesson (or maybe now we th

ought so)…but it’d serve for good conversation for sure.

[We’d both promised to put this on blog. Here’s my promise. Waiting for yours.]