Cycling

Cycling was the first major milestone after learning to walk and talk for a young lad. Cycling provided us with a sense of freedom and suddenly empowered us after all it provided us wheels and in the bargain liberated us. Cycle was a prized possession since scooters and mobikes were beyond the reach of even normal middle class. The licence permit raj ensured that these luxuries were available only through black market.After all even China our friendly neighbour up North had its proletariat cycling away merrily. So we aspired for a cycle  but the silver lining was the easy availability of cycles on hire. So our first cycling lessons were on hired cycles got at a princely sum of four annas per hour. During that precious time we had to exploit every minutes' worth so the cycle would be ridden throughout without a seconds break. The cycling lessons were provided by the elders at home in joint families, they were the elder cousins or friends who had stolen a march over us the late bloomers. So as a seven eight year old kid learning  cycling and thereafter to demonstrate our prowess to impress the uninitiated cousins and friends. Then there were the daredevils who would drive hands free especially to impress the girls. The cycles which are available at home were invariably Rayleigh ,Hero or Atlas gents cycles with the contraption between the seat and the handle to seat the sweetheart in many a movies... wonder why they didn't sit on the carrier which would have been far more comfortable to the derriere. But may be it was more romantic  and was definitely more intimate

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So these gents cycles which were ugly monsters when we compare them to their modern sleek avatars had actually to be stolen  while the elders were taking a siesta and the "danda" did not prove to be too much of an obstacle as we had devised a novel method of cycling by riding through the gap inserting one foot and pedalling while the other foot remained on own side handle firmly in our hands rather precariously poised not a very stable ride but nevertheless a ride . Since our height did not permit us to sit on the seat hence we had to resort to these novel methods to steal those rides. Unlocked cycles were considered fair game and we simply whisked them away for a quickie whenever we got the opportunity.
Anyway to get back to my own experiences with this humble mode of transport which has of late assumed the mantle of a fitness accessory, it was my cousin who introduced me to cycling  I was all of seven he would have been 15 we dutifully hired one of those mini cycles meant for kids and I was perched on the seat very confidently,  gently pushed with feet firmly on the pedals and hands glued to the handle, I pedalled away at a feverish pace not looking anywhere except at the pedals my joy knew no bounds having mastered cycling in a matter of minutes.. My cousin chasing me asking me to slowdown and the inevitable happened I crashed into an old man trudging along, he too was  engrossed in narrating his woes to his friend  not noticing this misguided missile headed in his direction..... sure enough the crash brought him down I went flying and simply ran realizing my perilous position. It required all his diplomatic skills for my cousin to retrieve the cycle from the old man who had by now got back on his feet showering me with choicest expletives. I of course had already scooted following the age old adage " wisdom is the better part of valour".

 But that lesson was priceless and soon I was cycling away even carrying my younger brother to school  still not tall enough to be able to sit on these, riding in the scissor style. The school was about two kms away from home and even as a nine year old the parents trusted us more than what  we do with our twenty year olds. So  me and my brother cycled to school, the saving grace was that the cycle was a ladies one without the "danda" so scissors style cycling was ok till I crashed again. This time it was during the rainy season when the feet just slipped from the pedals and yours truly was literally hanging on to the handle with both feet dangling away unable to get to  the pedals; in that split second I took a command decision asked my younger brother to jump off lest he too crash along with me and he dutifully obeyed, the moment he did that the cycle now more disbalanced from this jerk simply skidded off with me rolling along... both my knees bearing the brunt apart from  the uniform. The result was that the height of the seat of the cycle was brought down to a level where I could now sit and cycle along.

Little did I know then that cycling will go on for a number  of years more while in the academies where cycles were duly issued to us as our own modes of transport.  We hired cycles in RIMC when we went on leave out... Liberty in normal parlance,  to the town, watched movies and at times even on the FLs when we cut bounds at nights when the hiring had to be done in the evening itself and cycles had to be securely hidden away from the prying eyes of the duty officers and even our prefects, the appointments. These cycles were actually ramshackle contraptions which we could have have done without and probably we could have walked faster at times than these,  but all the same we did use them for these adventures and even for our bicycle hikes to Haridwar Rishikesh. In the final term I was privileged to have been issued  my own bicycle being the cadet captain.....of course it was the property of the course with  me getting it only for official duties else all the course mates had priority rights over it  all the time.

The most memorable cycling trip of course was the hike to Chandigarh via Paunta Sahib from Dehradun and back. This trip was eagerly awaited by the course, as our seniors had regaled us with stories of how they were looked after by the Rimcollian (alumni of our school RIMC) CO,  Col Mangat (later Lt Gen) there, and that the trip was extended by a day to permit them to enjoy Chandigarh to the fullest. Cycles were the same old ones but with renewed josh and vigour  we reached Paunta Sahib and the Gurudwara was our abode for the night, the place is beautiful and the granthis were very hospitable especially seeing us kids barely 14-15 year old. The meal as usual comprised the tasty Dal and the chapati (parsadaji), we were famished and  naturally relished it. The next day was hard work with climb to Nahan and then roll down to Kala Amb, the climb was extremely challenging, some of course took short cuts by hanging on to the rear chains of the trucks, but most of us trudged along. The dhaba owner at Kala Amb as overjoyed at seeing 50 youngsters as his customers for the night, least realising our apetites, because when we finished, the owner had not only run out of his stock of rations but replenished them twice and still there were some of us who could have gone on..... his parathas and chutney with raw onions were really delicious. On our way back the dhaba guy was smarter and rationed our parathas to two each. Chandigarh was nice, lovely boulevards very neat and clean but to our chagrin....the Rimcollian CO had been posted out and consequently we did not get any extension and hence had to return with just a day and a half spent at Chandigarh.

In NDA the cycle provided us with a means to move around in the huge campus in squads of four or six.Squads for the uninitiated was a square or a rectangular group in perfect order but only in senior terms; as second & third term we either pushed the cycles around or lifted them over our heads and ran around the Ashoka pillar. There were more adventures associated with the cycles most interesting ones were the valve raids in the battalion area.
These raids were planned and executed in true commando style complete with mission and objective a plan of insertion and extraction and diversionary tactics planned in minutest detail. The task was to manage as many valves as possible but not less than 20, in the bargain deflating the cycles of the neighbouring squadrons. This operation was executed in utmost secrecy and needless to mention, was carried out well after lights out keeping out of harms way, of the  the duty officer of the day. Duty officers were also known by their characteristics some like a Capt  Anshu Trivedi who liked to be known as the phantom who appeared the moment a light was switched on anywhere in the battalion . Obviously these operations were carried out when we had the Naval dopes or the jazzy flyboys who would invariably call it a day much earlier after their customary barra pegs. There were of course exceptions there too, the likes of Cdr Chitnis and Flt Lt Johri . 
Anyway getting back to the valves and the cycles these prized possessions which we had stolen were then distributed as the booty after the loot and we deposited them in empty match boxes to be produced to win a favour from a senior in difficult times. The most interesting part was the morning muster when we deliberately kept flat cycles else they would invariably be whacked by our worthy seniors who would simply hand over their punctured ones to us to push around. Once the muster was over these valves would miraculously appear, the tyres would be inflated and off we second termers went for our outdoors of course ensuring that our seniors did not catch us on the bikes lest we lose them again with the added punishment of the cycles on our shoulders rather then merely pushing them along. Then someone in the hierarchy decided to put an end to these adventures by providing us with plenty of valves with the CQMS,

the quarter master sergeants and suddenly the bikes serviceability state improved dramatically.

The other interesting anecdote of cycling related to our colleagues from friendly foreign countries especially the Bhutanese ones as they laid their hands on cycles only in NDA as there were no cycles in Bhutan.These guys were dangerous and most cadets avoided getting into their foursome "squad" . The bike especially on a downhill slope refused to pay attention to their endeavours to turn and simply zoomed off straight ahead, the rest of the squad had no choice but to follow suit or crash into them thus injuring themselves and also rendering the cycles unserviceable with the rims deshaped and couple of spokes becoming casualty. Cycling to Peacock bay was fun we never felt it to be drudgery and really enjoyed these rides ....difficult to imagine our youngsters today, they would immediately lay their hands on a mobike rather than trudge along on a lowly cycle.
Cycling continued even post commission as the two wheelers could only be purchased after the the first few months salary was credited into the the bank. But the fourth pay commission arrears soon provided us with the moolah to get our very own two wheelers, a LML Vesspa it was as motor cycles were strictly prohibited by our parents having witnessed our cycling feats and to keep us safe. We of course treated this family ride also as the stallions and rode around in a similar fashion.

IN SUPPORT OF SC DIRECTIVE: DOWN WITH CASTEISM

Every time we have elections the media and our analysts/ psephologists go on an over drive trying to make some sense out of the voting patterns, caste sub caste OBC etc issues. If there is one agency which is responsible for the spread of downright casteist politics apart from politicians, it is our venerated media. By dissecting these issues and highlighting them time and again even a normal person would get swayed and start thinking along these lines which has been the bane of our democracy. We call ourselves a functional democracy, the largest one in the world, but we elect our leaders based on frivolous grounds, caste, muscle, money and freebies. Every party does these calculations before they select the candidates and by harping on it continuously we as a society do not even wish to get rid of this malaise which is responsible for the mess that our society has landed ourselves into.

My media friends will argue that they only publish or broadcast what is prevalent in the country but then very often they adopt a holier than thou attitude, remember the intolerance debate, created and nurtured by media. Then why hasn’t this initiative ever been tried? Don’t we want a real democracy where the candidates are elected on their merits rather than the religion or caste that they belong to. Is it really going to be a herculean task to spread awareness amongst the voters that their votes to their caste/religion brethren have not made an iota of difference in their life style, after all we have been going over this charade for the last sixty four years ever since we adopted the universal adult franchise right from the word go.

So did our constitution makers err in granting us this privilege of universal adult franchise or is it due to our follies later that this has been degenerated to our present dysfunctional process. May be if voting rights were reserved only for literate persons, it would have acted as an incentive for the masses… may be by now we would have had hundred percent literacy just to be able to vote.

But anyway we are digressing, we were at the castiest agenda during the holy process of electioneering. So what are the choices before us, one of course is to stay the course and hope in a hundred years we shall be a mature sensible democracy or alternately bring in some radical changes. Charity begins at home, so let the media barons ensure that there will not be any discussions on the caste compositions telecast or published. Give it a try; I know the politicians will still do these calculations before fielding their candidates but if we spread awareness by organising debates and discussions on the futility of voting based on caste lines and it resulting in election of many unfit criminals who  cannot perceive anything other than their own self interests. The ill gotten wealth of these satraps and their protégés needs to be highlighted for the masses to see for themselves for starters, the Mulayams, Lallus, Badals, Chautalas are right at the forefront.

Were elections always caste driven, well actually no, a Parsi Homi Daji could win an election from Indore on a Communist Party ticket in the Lok Sabha or a George Fernandes, a Kannada by birth, a Bombayite in residence,  by profession, a trade union leader  could win from Muzaffarpur in Bihar and there were many such examples where independent candidates emerged victorious in the days before Mandal- Kamandal era dawned in the country.

Today it is virtually impossible for an independent candidate to win any election even that of Municipal Corporation unless of course if he is a bahubali, the Raja Bhaiya variety. Have you forgotten the famous Mira Sanyal or Capt Gopinath who contested from Mumbai and Bangalore respectively or for that matter our former PM Dr Manmohan Singh from New Delhi and they all lost. These cities are the most cosmopolitan metros of the country but even they could not rise above these petty caste, party driven agendas. The irony is a movie star can win an election from anywhere, Amitabh Bachhan, Shatrughan Sinha, Vinod Khanna, Rajesh Khanna, Dharmendra, Govinda and now Hema Malini and Moonmoon Sen.  Unfortunately most of them have contributed precious little to enrich our democratic process. However we have had South Indian star turned politicians MGR, NTR and Jayalalitha who have brought forth a paradigm change in their state level politics and they have had a major impact on national polity also from time to time. This democracy is a sham in its current form and we must acknowledge it only then we will look at alternatives to reform it. Yes it is the best we have but, no Sir, this is just not good enough, why should politics be the refuge of scoundrels, it should be by choice to enable our leaders to evolve into world class statesmen. In the pre-independence era, we were actually spoilt for choices each one a luminary in his or her own right, how I wish we had saved some of them for the future generations. We ran out of our stock rather early in the post independence era specially in the 70s and 80s, when the rot began.

TRYST WITH NATUROPATHY

TRYST WITH NATUROPATHY

Naturopathy is synonymous with old age,  "Gandhian lifestyle" so naturally people are perplexed at our act of joining a naturopathy camp for two weeks.  The first reactions are incredulous "Don't tell me! " "Are you sick or something ?""You have no weight issues!" then why on earth would someone embark on this path. Well to be honest it was out of plain and simple curiosity just to go through this experience of detox. May be we will be rejuvenated, recharged for the years ahead. If it works we could make it an yearly feature, else I was sure it would be an experience worth remembering. So here we are at a place called Urulikanchan about 20 mins from Pune at Nisargopchar ashram. "Nisarg" incidentally means "natural" and "upchar" is "treatment" literally; ashram I presume is part of lexicon by now.

Our arrival here itself commenced with a state transport bus journey from Hadapsar Pune India's BPO hub. It must have been ages, since we had taken a bus ride like this;  it was nostalgic bringing back memories of our escapades from NDA when we looked forward to the Sunday liberties boarding these very gigantic smoke belching diesel vehicles to Pune from Khadakwasla. The buses have weathered these three decades and haven't changed one bit, even the system to stop the buses continues to be the bell strung with a rope which the conductor tugs to signal the driver to stop or to move. The graffiti too remains the same, the conductor still screams "pudhe sarkat raha" Marathi for "keep moving ahead" to the passengers standing. The seats were the same, rexine coated coir ones with no comfort provided to the derriere whatsoever, you would rather stand. Even the passengers, the same kurta pyjamas  topi clad villagers and ladies attired in their nine yards,  the only discernible change was the presence of ubiquitous mobile phone. Almost everyone had one.

The journey was short, just about an hour, countryside too seems to have been overlooked by the digital age, except for the concrete jungles which have mushroomed in the immediate vicinity of the town and cities . The lush green fields and fresh air were just the tonic which we were desperate for, having lived through thre Delhi smog  nightmare, specially so after Diwali.

Urulikanchan is a typical Maharashtra small town now, rather an overgrown village akin to the rural areas else where in the country, narrow congested lanes infested with all kinds of transport simultaneously jostling for space on these roads. Pigs and the garbage strewn by the wayside only restricting the moving space but the daredevil drivers deftly manage to  manoeuvre around them. Rural Maharashtra is probably the only abode left for the proverbial Gandhi topi other than in Congress party meetings. Almost every villager adorns these with pride, wonder how come the Gujjus have forsaken them may be because actually even Gandhi ji didn't ever use it himself.

The ashram  is actually within the town itself, may be when it was conceived it would have been outside the village limits. The entry was through a gate which resembled that of an open jail. The inmates though seemed to be engaged in animated conversations as majority of them were from the fairer  but healthier sex. In fact I suddenly started feeling very fit as majority of the "sadhaks" as we were referred to, were obese some obscenely so. It appeared as though it was a weight reduction clinic primarily. The remarkable aspect about the place was the number of women employed right from reception to the doctors, physios to house keeping and kitchen. Even more interesting was the usage and familiarity with computers of the staff with a functional network connecting the doctors, reception and mess thus monitoring and controlling diets  very closely.

The rooms were spacious enough but sparsely furnished, though adequate, making us realise the futility of all the stuff that we keep accumulating all our lives. The doctor herself was  a very pleasing person and I was at pains to explain the reasons for my presence in the ashram after all I was quite fit, fortunately did not have any lingering medical issues although, have had my share of visits and admissions in the hospital having broken quite a few bones in a career spanning 30 years in uniform, nothing unusual! The only nagging issue was recurring acidity which can probably be attributed to the current sedentary lifestyle with prolonged office hours. She was amused and decided to put me on a diet regimen which comprised herbal kadha  ( magic potion with milk, jaggery and basil juice)  carrot and bottlegourd juice followed by another concoction of basil and adusa  ( a medicinal plant), lunch was boiled veg with two jowar  rotis chutney and buttermilk. Evenings commenced with the same herbal kadha and dinner with wheat rotis replacing jowar in the lunch menu. The exercise regimen was Yoga twice once in the morning at 6 am and second time at 2 pm and the treatment so to say was full body massage daily, steam bath on alternate days, Sun bath with layers of earth daily.  For spiritual pursuits evening prayers followed by yog nidra/  meditation. All in all an interesting week ahead. Food was practically salt free but palatable, served between 5.30 and 6.30 pm, rather early by most standards but that gave us adequate time for the evening walk post dinner and naturally we hit the bed and slept like logs.

The next day treatment commenced with the massage which lasted 45 blissful minutes... The masseur a young lad made all my creaking bones and the not so toned muscles come alive followed by a steam bath for about 15 minutes. The contraption used for the steam was a relic of Gandhiji's days but quite effective. Sun bath and all the concoctions made a heady cocktail and after lunch it had to be siesta with eyepatches only facilitating it further. The massage and the steam bath provided us with an interesting visual where apart from tummies of all shapes and sizes which were at display it was the humble underwear which displayed the kaleidoscope  right from the age old striped string bound ones to the jockeys in all shapes and sizes in varying states of use and misuse some barely managing to cover the vitals some failing despite their valiant efforts. I was left speechless by many a tummies one in particular could give any sumo wrestler a run for his money. He had been there three times already in the last decade,  not a very good advertisement for naturopathy I must say. He admitted he was here for detox rather than attempting to lose weight which he invariably lost but made up for it soon on his return.

Surrounded by old fat ladies and a few retired old men made one suddenly feel old a rather unnerving feeling,  frankly I don't even feel my age of  half a century notwithstanding my grey hair and the balding pate .

I decided to switch to raw diet which comprised sprouts fresh diced veg and buttermilk for lunch and fruits for dinner with the rider that these should not be mixed i.e. if it is papaya then no apples or figs can go with it just papaya, difficult proposition by any chance. But I loved the concept and enjoyed these meals more than the cooked ones.

The good part was that I had my better half and father in law for company.He has been an old hand here having been here thrice earlier and has benefited each time relieved from his chronic back aches. They normally recommend a stay of minimum two weeks there but I was happy with my week's stint in these precincts. 

Politics of suicide

Ours is a strange society or is it only the politicians who can resort to any means to achieve their ends, I often wonder how can suicides be eulogised and venerated when it is a criminal offence . I am aware I will be branded insensitive upper caste bigot who doesn't understand the psyche of the dalits. Be that as it may even the so called sympathisers of their cause are all 'to the manor born ' themselves so the reason for their flocking around at such junctures is akin to vultures on the caracass. Pardon me as it may sound offensive but in reality that is exactly how it appears .

Deaths are tragic, suicides more so, a young promising life snuffed out whatever may be the reasons, it is sad and the need of the hour is to provide succour to the family and friends and not to politicise the issue . For a moment leave aside our political leanings aside and think dispassionately will this politicking help any one specially from the immediate family . Obviously no, they will be forgotten the moment media latches on to something else which will earn them their TRPs. Deja vu haven't we seen it all , enacted a thousand times.
So is media the culprit more specifically the electronic media or the politicians or are we to blame for allowing them to take us for a ride . I am sure we are all more than adequately informed of the facts of the case though in some cases these would be distorted and twisted to suit their respective interests . Could the university administration have taken a more benign and lenient view of the transgressions by these students can be debated ad nauseum . Whether these activities actually were transgressions or not should be left to the university authorities but prey aren't these institutions government funded . They are and the scholarships fellowships are all being provided by the government . Within such an institution should we permit a student body to openly espouse the cause of a terrorist who had been convicted by our own highest judicial body . Well we all are free to express our views but not when we are dependent on the largesse of the government itself . When we decide to take on the authorities then we ought to be prepared to face the consequences .
Imagine for a minute you are working for one of  the same media houses which are blowing these issues up and you go against the stated policies of the organisation , do you think they will spare you , you will be sacked then and there .
While there may be merits in Late Mr Rohit's arguments but to take the extreme step of committing suicide can not be condoned .
I am not sure if such acts are treated with kid gloves any where else in the world . Yes we are different as a people and consequently our societal values too are not akin to liberal democracies of the world.  Narrow minded caste driven voting patterns have systematically destroyed our democracy . I know very many of you will cringe at this statement of mine . But search your hearts and be honest to yourself and then look around our elected representatives very many of whom will not qualify for a peon's job in our own government what to talk of corporate . I am not so sure if Rohit belonged to one of the so called upper caste there would have been any reaction whatsoever . I believe that angle is also being investigated to establish the veracity of his dalit credentials.
I am digressing we were talking about our society which brings me to a very interesting observation , we have a tradition of "paryushan" amongst the Jain community where their elderly and saints voluntarily give up food and water intake and gradually pass away . In the ancient times we had the "sati" and "johar" both of which were essentially suicides . None of these acts bore any stigma instead they were hailed as courageous and sacrificial thus bestowing a moral ascendancy on such acts . I am not debating the merits or demerits of these acts but merely trying to study the impact of our psyche on our reactions in today's environment .
Euthanasia is still anathema  committing or abetting suicides is also a crime , do we need to introspect and address the root cause or wait on for another Rohit or even the  beleaguered farmers who have had to resort to this extreme measure due to extreme penury or the apathy of the government officials .

You asked for it Mr Chetan Bhagat

You asked for it Mr Chetan Bhagat I know you have been inundated by trolls, hate and abusive mails but did you honestly expect that the veteran community will be overjoyed at your rather immature take on this grave issue ? I am sure with your superior IIT IIM intellect and your calculating investment banker brain you knew better than that . Let us get into a rational logical you know the "use your head " debate . By now all your arguments have been smashed
to smithereens.   Do you realise that by this one act you have hurt and demeaned the one organisation which is your last resort ,your pillar to bail you out of all the morasses that men of  superior intellect, your ilk the  babus have got the nation into .
The only disciplined organisation which as an institution is revered by the countrymen for their acts of sacrifice and selflessness . So after these acts what do you expect from them to behave like the rest ..resort to strikes acts of vandalism . It is unfortunate that
our nation doesn't value its freedom ..you slight the soldiers today and expect and be prepared for debacles like 62 and worse ...

Maha Kumbh

We are typical middle class Indians, kumbh conjures an image of unimaginable crowds, mismanagement, filthy ghats , the jostling pandas and stupid fools participating in this chaos where naga sadhus and cattle rule the roost. That is precisely how I felt till a friend decided to take his mother for this holy dip. Initially even my reaction was the same predictable one and summing it up as even dangerous, why venture at such a place after all we aren't that religious either and our faith is also bound by our so called rational boundaries. When he returned triumphant, he was a different person, no it was not that he transformed as an individual, just a sense of fulfillment at having been part of an experience called the kumbh. So that was the motivation which spurred me into action. An event which the world awaits with baited breath , where India always proves its detractors wrong. We can't organise a commonwealth games but kumbh we do in our quietly efficient manner. Yes the occasional stampedes do occur but by and large we manage.
So here we were, parents and self; very bravely decided to embark on this  holy pilgrimage ...not sure of what awaited us . The first impression when we got off the train was itself such a sight .. a sea of mankind .. With great difficulty we managed to avoid stepping on the hundreds of people sleeping on the platform .
But we were yet to witness the ocean of humanity ..oh i have no words to describe it has to be seen to be believed ...and then the mighty Ganges herself beckoning us at the "Triveni Sangam" and then the holy dip with parents ..yes it gave a sense of fulfilment .
Once in a lifetime experience ..It needs to be a must do ..part of your bucket list .
Guess what we middle class  Indians are so scared but it is the firangis who are an inspiration for us . They not only visit but actually become a part of the kumbh in the real sense of the word ..a cosmos of its own

Train travail again

Train journeys are nostalgic , they invariably bring back memories of days of yore when this was the only means of long distance public transport which was affordable for the masses .  The long never ending travails when one was bound for the hostel in the initial days or the joyous ones when we were headed back home . Somehow over the years even the back to school became very cool . At certain intermediate stations friends joining up with lots to exchange not restricted to the delicacies cooked by our moms but also the other more interesting adolescents gossip girls movies parties etc .
Since trains had become an essential part of our lives the migration to air travel though very welcome but somewhere deep down one longed for those moments spent sitting at the stairs with wind gushing and occasional coal bits also smearing you with ash . A feeling which is unmatched as the  train is speeding away and you can silently just enjoy the sun set or watch the avian friends return to their nests or the sound of the  cattle bells in perfect harmony with nature .
This time after quite a while I was once again by myself in a train journey . Frankly i was not really quite enamored by the thought . The reasons are many firstly one has got used to flying which conserves time secondly over the years we have not been frequenting the railway stations and hence the crowded spaces andthe filth too have been avoided . Although that is where real Bharat is even at the cost of being a cliché .
The best part of the train journey is the interaction with the co passengers something which we  garrulous Indians really miss in the air travel where one has to be a snob because everyone else is . The exchange of seats / berths lower with upper or the highly avoidable side lower neat the entrance or exit of the coach all are typical phenomenon associated with these travels . Mind you train travels are not voyages they simply can't be so no bon voyages here , simply best of journey because that is what it is akin to life where each of us is undertaking  our individual journey .
So first we had to resort to an exchange of berths , a family had one berth alloted in another coach so naturally i was expected to move out which i dutifully did but landing up in that dreaded place right at  the exit . That was not all here there was another couple who had two seats on either side of the divide and once again i was expected to unite them on one side . Again i was the good samaritan. After the exchange of pleasantries the co passenger turned out to be an Army JCO's son presently working with FICCI. On further enquiries it emerged that he was an alumni of AMU and a Moslem. Sine FICCI is the nerve centre of the latest Make in India campaign  i was naturally curious to know whether there were any real changes or was it like business as usual . He explained that though they have not looked at any short term goals long term policies seem to be preparing the ground work for long term sustained growth . Coming from a FICCI person it was reassuring .
Yes why did i specifically mention his religion , it is so good to see and meet normal people else they are rather badly stereo typed.  His wife too was working with a US based MNC together they made an amiable couple . Yes they also had a domestic help traveling with them . She was apparently from their village . It was  heartening to see them treat her with lot of dignity and affection . In fact they shared a berth but she had a single one to herself .
Interesting ... In betweeni i managed to step out and stand at the gate enjoying the gush of warm wind though no coal ash any longer ........