Why me?

The original version of this writeup appeared as an email to friends and relatives in Dec 02 after i had lost my bags (containing certificates) during travel to Varanasi to appear in the IAF interview. I had all but forgotten about it but was reminded of it recently by a good friend who remailed it to rub it in, and went on to add that she carries a printout of the mail handy and reads it whenever in need of a good laugh about a right idiot. Never one to be outdone, i take it as a compliment and go one step ahead in posting this so that anybody that needs something to read can carry a personal printout, and anybody that doesnt need it can still print it out and wipe their shoes or make paper rockets or do whatever they do best with scrap paper.

I had at that time titled it "Why me?" and i see no reason to change it.

I have edited it now, obviously, to fit the times and moods of the present generation of which i am very much a part of, in fact, even more than i was when i penned it in angst 3 years ago.
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I took Tamilnadu express to Bhopal from where i was supposed to catch one Kamayani god forbidden express to Varanasi. I boarded the Kamayani train at 3 in the morning at Bhopal and after locking my bag under the lower berth to create more legspace, went to sleep at my allocated top berth.

Guess, there aint nothing wrong till now. Thizz where the story starts.

I woke up in the morning at around 9 and abracadabra, like I can’t get any other word, i find that my bag is missing. YES, the same one that i had locked.
Didnt take much of time or effort for him thief to cut away the straps of the bag to release it from the plank to which it was fastened, and take it away, did it?

There i was just looking puzzled/ angry, looking around for my bag despondently, when a coupla co-passengers jus told me cool, in my face, as if nuthin had happened, that it is just my bag which has gone, and there aint nuthin 2 worry. They told it as if they had arrived at the conclusiona fetr some hardcore detective work. I’m happy they dint use the word "eureka". Horseshit, i had nothing 2 worry!! I had all i needed for the bloody interview inside the stolen bag. It contained all my certificates (originals and photocopies et al), my interview call letter, passport size photos, all physical activities certificates et al.

I went to the TTE and told him so-so. You wont believe the mother fucker’s reaction. He laughed at me. Im not kidding. Im sooper serious. If the thing had been bloody Tamilnadu, i wuda hit him in his face. Deal with consequences later. I would have put a fist to his face.
He then told me something in hindi like "yes, there has been robbery in the train tonight and there are few more cases. I dun see what i can do about it. You musta been careful". That bit is a bit true, but you don’t have to laugh.

After that, the railway cops in the train accompanied me and we made a thorough search of the train in the hope that the thief who had taken the bag had discarded it somewhere in the train itself. I felt like the head of a bomb detection squad looking for them bags all over the train. In vain. En route, the two cops who were supposed to help accompany me in my bag search caught a dude selling cigarettes and promptly pocketed 200 bucks and 2 packs of cigarettes each from the kid. I touched them a pack.

All i had remaining with me was a jerkin, a blanket, return tickets and some loose change. Nothing else.

I then made a call to folks back home n told them so-so. I told them i'll get off the train rightaway, cancel them return tickets and come back to Chennai. Never before had i felt such a big longing to be back home.
My father said " No way, go upto varnasi and tell 'em officials what happened. They are sure to give you a chance. You finish what you started".
I continued on the same train and reachd varanasi that night. I went to the govt. railway police to make a complaint. I told him cop in my trademark characteristic broken hindi "Guv, i lost my bag containing my certificates today morning". Guess that used half an hour of our time. I’m willing to bet any of u folks my first month salary, if ever there shud be one, that there aint no way any of u will give the answer the cop did. It went like this "Why dont u register a complaint a coupla weeks later in jodhpur railway station. You are sure to get your bag back". Dont worry much if you dun make out what it meant. So dint i till it occurred to me that it was the hite of sarcasm. I kinda glared at him and after cursing everybody in the world for nobody’s fault, he took the complaint and gave me a copy, because that’s procedure. Im sure he wud have wiped his shoes with that paper the minute i was gone.

I had found a Tamilian on the train, a real salt of the earth lad, to whom I told everything. He was a godsend. He took me with him to a hotel, turning a deaf ear to my assurances that I wont commit suicide or that I was comfortable staying in the platform that night and got me dinner (and breakfast the next day). He even loaned me 500 bucks that I sent back to him through money order.

After breakfast, i went to IAF and they promptly said i could go back. They cant interview me without the certificates because they are tied by procedure as well. SOBs, these people in govt. offices will never improve till they stop being too rigid about procedures. When i later told my uncle (Guru, who is in IAF) the story, he said they aint too rigid usually, and he remembers they actually gave a chance and also selected a lad whose status was same as mine when he had turned up for his interview, though that was some years ago. They later found out he was spying for Pak and made procedures rigid (Ok, I made that up, for my own solace). Blasted damned luck on my side.

So, all i had left to do was return home.
But not so easy. My return ticket to Chennai was from Lucknow the next day. So, I had some time and decided to visit the old Kasi Vishwanath and take a dip in the Holy Ganges and all that. I went to the temple, asking for directions, which is a pain, but somehow managed it. Then I was sitting in the banks of Ganges when a guy approached me and asked if I wanted a boat ride and told me he could take me to some Ghats section. I asked him whats there, and he said “ You can see corpses floating everywhere.” I gave him the old eye and got the fuck outta that place. I didn’t even take the dip. I ran and probably did around 60 kph right then, but I sure as hell got away. Why the fuck would people take a boat ride to watch corpses obstructing the boats’ course? What is THAT, a live dolphin show, from close quarters? Why should people throw corpses in the river? Ash I can understand, that’s like flicking cigarettes on a liquid medium, but decayed human flesh… fucked up psychos over there, I tell you that.

Anyway, personal observations aside, getting back to the narration, it was time to get to Lucknow. Now, Lucknow had no buses from Varanasi. Made it to there in an unreserved train (6 hours of stinkin journey) in an overcrowded train where 4 ticket less guys beat up the TTE for asking 4 their tickets. Thats how they run them railways in the north. Anyways, that was a sight i really relished/ enjoyed watching and me hands were irkin real bad to go join them up. Reached Lucknow around 8 at night.

There was some exam in Lucknow the next day and all the hotel rooms had been taken in the whole i-run-out-of-bad-words city. Found a chatram type place they let me sleep in a corner for the night for 200 fucking bucks, but I paid it without a word. Not that I could bargain in Hindi. Deposited my remaining bag there, went to a nearby alcohol store without a bar, got a quarter rum and pepsi, drank it in a nearby dark alley in 10 minutes, returned to chatram and crashed to sleep.

Woke up the next morning, brushed, bathed, breakfasted, put on a clean shirt (which also the Tamil guy loaned and i didn't return) and went to the station. Unfortunately, went to the wrong station. The stations were named Lucknow Central and Lucknow Junction and closeby-ly apart, ala Central and park. If you have 2 stations, why cant you name them Central and Egmore? The bloody train was on time that bloody day. Managed to reach the right station in the nick of time and finally caught the fucking train back home just to find a drunk asleep in my berth. A Mallu family was traveling and they advised me not to wake the drunk up. I was pretty pissed by then and deciding, ‘hey it couldn’t get worse’, squared up the son of a gun and made him vacate my berth. That feeling was awesome. The best I felt in days. Passed the journey giving the eye to the Mallu chechi seated opposite me. Ghum ka babe. Got chatty with her and she told me my future and stuff, according to which, I’ll never travel abroad, never get married but will father 2 boys. She didnt talk to me for the next one hour though. She was then all chatty again. Spooky folks, these mallus!! It helped me relax a bit, tho.

But actually, tell u what, it was not till i reached Chennai and got home that i regained something of that cool head and composure of mine. I had never been so restless/ anguished so much for so long till then. If this ordeal had lasted anytime more, i guess i can’t have taken it.

Got down to apply for duplicate certificates today and I was glad my father was with me because they said it would take around an year to get the duplicate of the +2 certificate. State Governments, should I say more? Goddamn procedures. I should have waved a 100-buck note at them or something. In Chennai/ Govt. offices, money really talks. No kidding. Folks, if you are a South Indian, here is an earnest appeal from a wellwisher. Please take this advice real seriously and for Pete's sake do not lose ur original certificates, atleast the State board's. It just isn’t worth it, the effort one has to put to get it back.

So, at the end of the day, what happened was i ended up blowing my dads money and the thing wasnt even a pleasure trip. Hell!! That was more like it...

Im happy 2 have bugged u with it. You know it aint my original nature but the north Indians rubbed some of their attitude into me. Those bastards are delighted to see a fellow creature in pain. Yes sir, they are.

Anyway, i dont seem to be able to talk more about it, and there really isnt much more to talk about it. I have been through a horrid time, and have found the courage to say it as is and how many people can you say can claimed to have done that. All i am asking of you is to go hang yourself somewhere if you are laughing at this because this was meant to be a sob story. And it is...
And im not apologizing for all the offensive language. I intend to keep the record straight. Itzz the north Indian attitude, remember.
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I do not know what is making me post this after such an incredibly long time, but i am posting this in the beleif that it will remind someone to keep their bags under their armpits when undertaking a travel to/through North India, esp Bihar/ UP and MP.

Disclaimer: Of course, of course, its been more than 3 years since the narrated incident occured and my stand has mellowed on North Indians and i am accepting offers from interested North Indian girls.

Move it....Sorry, Cant !!!

And today, my legs refused to move….
Of late, I have been toying with the idea of waking up a little early and to do some jogging before pushing off to work. The tummy ka fat (affectionately called the tyre) is threatening to show. It’s almost like its giving a message. 3 more days and no exercise, and I’ll show up. No such cut a deals with the face fat. Its showing and glaringly and obviously and people are starting to recognize and compliment on it, rather than holding back. “Ah c’mon now, you have a job, more money, more food and less exercise. It’s bound to show sometime. Dont worry” advised a well-meaning friend.

And the trouble is that im a slacker. I usually wake up around 8-8.15, which leaves me with no time for some exercise lest I’ll be late for office. And evenings. Well, who wants to get exercise when there is TV, huh? C’mon now, get a life.

So, with major planning, went to sleep around 11 last night so I could get up earlier and see if I can squeeze a 30 minute run prior to rolling to work. The result was disastrous.

Around 6.45, woke up. Didn’t get out of bed tho. Determined its too early and went back to sleep, but couldn’t sleep hardcore anymore. Slept again for a brief 10 minutes, planning the rest of the day in mind. Felt great.
Around 7, decided that I should get up, but was like “Should give my old legs some more rest. They are kinda feeling heavy. Afterall, I sit at work all day and drive a car. They need some care too.”
At 7.15, it was “I can still make it to work on time even I wake up at 7.30”.
And at 7.30, it was “Man, its still cold outside”.
And at 7.45, “Shouldn’t overdo it on day1. Will jog for 20 minutes”
And finally, at 8, “Fuck it. It’s too late. Tomorrow then”

And felt like a bum the whole rest of the day. I can excuse if I simply hadn’t woken up at all. But I was just lying there in my bed, cozy comforters pulled up all the way. Looked out my window and saw other enthusiastic morning joggers, and laughed inside “I’ll catch up with this lot. Give them a 10 minute handicap”. Round about the 7.30 mark was when I was practically desperate to get out of bed, but I just couldn’t. My legs, seriously, made me feel old. My calf muscles were all heavy and my knees weren’t relaxed and the entire area felt stiff and I felt like they were telling my brain “You know what. For too long, we have done things your way. Today is not one of them. We are going nowhere” And like a sucker, I let them union workers have their strike day with pay instead of kicking the shit out of them and driving them to work.

On a lighter vein, how can you kick if your legs refuse to? This is my nadir.