Moderator's note:
Our friend, Major Gulati, Chairman, PRCI, Hyderabad Chapter has sent in his anecdote based on his experience during his recent trip to Tirupati. Here, he explains his travel travails by train. He titled it 'Propriety vs Impropriety. He posted this anecdote into the group twice, but some how it missed the moderation queue, just as those two claimants of his berths annoyed him. Hence, I posted it. Please read and comment. Many of our members might have penned this kind of experiences. They can share them in this group.
[I too have one, written long ago titled 'the art of not speaking']
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Dear all,
Propriety Vs Impropriety
The succeeding lines are a tongue-in-cheek portrayal of people gifted with the ostensible, uncanny art of propriety display with certitude, making even the wisest feel ignoramus at times.
This happened in a train while we were traveling from Hyderabad to Tirupati along with our Co-brother’s family, during May 2010 on our yearly holy sojourn. It was one of the very few occasions when we had planned the holy trip much in advance, including train reservation, to avoid the usual discomfiture. Since we were all quite used to last minute arrivals, inordinate delays, boarding running trains, missing flights, missing complimentary hotel breakfasts, this well planned journey seemed a little out of place. It actually turned out to be one. This is how.
After a bit of the usual altercation with the coolie, when we were trying to get into our AC 2 Tier compartment No.2A, the onslaught of the detraining passengers threw us out twice, before the much stronger onslaught of the boarding passengers put us inside safely without the slightest effort of our own. Once inside the compartment we were tossed around by the two way traffic, like a soft ball from one end to the other. To add to our woes, the belligerent coolie with whom we had an altercation over his labor charges a few minutes earlier, intentionally put us on the opposite side of the compartment to avenge the ignominy of being under paid.
The struggle to reach our side of the compartment was woefully Herculean, but the belief that ‘all is well, that ends well’, kept us going undeterred. Tattered and battered when we reached our berths, a middle aged man occupying one of our berths greeted us with a notorious grin. I too slammed a grin on him but a return of much terser grin by the occupant put my modest grin to shame. However my co-brother, who is made of much tougher stuff than I am, silenced the barbarian by muttering a few invectives from above my shoulder.
After exchanging the pleasantries we got down to the business of debating ‘which berth belongs to whom’. When we flashed our miniscule confirmed rail tickets with certitude to stake our claim for the berths that the man and his family members were royally occupying, the man tossed a much bigger paper that had the names of all the passengers, obviously less any of ours. Until now we believed that ‘small was beautiful’ but now realized that ‘big was authoritative’ and thus nearly conceded that they were the rightful owners of the berths. It is only when the man proclaimed with a loud chuckle that their RAC tickets were confirmed a little while ago, put us in a bit of quandary. We wondered how could his RAC tickets get precedence over our tickets confirmed one month in advance, but the ominous authority with which the man was flashing the paper, subdued our ebullience and made us feel silly.
While we were flabbergasted and to overcome the consternation were muttering between ourselves, another man walked into our compartment holding a similar confirmed ticket as ours. He was also treated as contemptuously by the older occupant, as us. The loud chuckle with a louder sardonic proclamation ‘Here’s another one’, sapped the last traces of our drought hit confidence. The new entrant was obviously taken off his feet and looked at us poignantly with lots of hope. With not even the slightest gesture of reassurance from our side, the new entrant was left dejected, that was clearly palpable.
While the commotion on our side of the compartment was in a state of frenzy, a young man of around 25 years, from the adjacent compartment, sensing brouhaha slipped from his berth to seek the help of the ticket collector. He came back after a while with a piece of paper and slammed it on our man who had sought centre stage until now. While scanning the papers thoroughly, the change of expression on the face of the petulant man from being an exalted Emperor who had fallen from grace, to a tormented king, was visibly perceptible. By now the reality had dawned on the tormented king that he mistook the ‘third’ sheet of paper as compartment No.‘2A’. He realized that his fortress was fallen and of course we had the last laugh when he packed his luggage and left the compartment without saying a word.
Major Rakesh Gulati (Retd.)
Director, Centum Advtg and Marketing Pvt. Ltd.