This post is a tribute to the harmless ones killed and injured in the Delhi blasts. Further, dedicated to my companions during the various train journeys on the Pilani Express.
The author was reminded of his Pilani days and the umpteen train journeys from New Delhi to Chennai Central and vice-versa, courtesy, the Pilani Express, which used to be otherwise known as the Tamil Nadu Express (we never really cared about the Grand Trunk Express); when he first got to know of the highly deplorable and unfortunate Delhi blasts. With a government that is pretty soft on terrorism, and, a coalition that follows the deplorable vote-bank politics, just like everyone else; it is beginning to seem like, nothing much can be done about the blasts. Going after the terrorists, should be done more so, because, what they are doing, is evoking terror in the minds of the people, by the means of cowardice. Moreover, the bomb doesn't really care for the religion of the people it endangers; and for reasons of political gains and victory of their point of view, harming the harmless is downright detestable, deplorable and unpardonable. The government and the political leaders, should rise above from politics and mere soft talk; for it is high time for action. On that poignant note, the author would like to delve more onto the topic of the post.
The author was reminded of his Pilani days and the umpteen train journeys from New Delhi to Chennai Central and vice-versa, courtesy, the Pilani Express, which used to be otherwise known as the Tamil Nadu Express (we never really cared about the Grand Trunk Express); when he first got to know of the highly deplorable and unfortunate Delhi blasts. With a government that is pretty soft on terrorism, and, a coalition that follows the deplorable vote-bank politics, just like everyone else; it is beginning to seem like, nothing much can be done about the blasts. Going after the terrorists, should be done more so, because, what they are doing, is evoking terror in the minds of the people, by the means of cowardice. Moreover, the bomb doesn't really care for the religion of the people it endangers; and for reasons of political gains and victory of their point of view, harming the harmless is downright detestable, deplorable and unpardonable. The government and the political leaders, should rise above from politics and mere soft talk; for it is high time for action. On that poignant note, the author would like to delve more onto the topic of the post.
New Delhi is a beautiful city, pretty well-planned, and rich in terms of history and heritage. Connaught Place is a great place to hang out; and everything about New Delhi has a distinct charm for the author, maybe more so, because it was the author's first experience, on his own, up north, after living a majority of his life till then as a madrasi. Moreover, the author and his group of friends, were, exposed to New Delhi, at a time, when their hormonal reality levels were pretty high or beginning to kick in. Girls in tight, thigh-caressing and low-rise jeans; and equally tight body-hugging tops, were a heady whiff of change, from the "usual". It made so much more of a difference for the students who were from Chennai and the other parts of Tamil Nadu. (Indeed, Bengaluru and Mumbai would give a healthy competition to New Delhi.) And, no matter what, be it their attitude, or their ways of life, the girls were indeed highly impressionable. And, the New Delhi guys, who were termed TDCs, were never really in the picture, for us guys. With quickly overflowing counters, courtesy, the abundant amounts of ocular strain, New Delhi was an important part of the author's life, in terms, of his growing up.
Who can forget those umpteen train journeys? Sarai Rohilla station of Old Delhi, the New Delhi railway station, journeys to Kalka, Loharu, Allahabad, etc. The open dis-respect for the concept of reserved compartments. Sumo's and filmi episodes with drunken and rash drivers. The bus rides in winter, with most people smoking beedi's in that suffocative environment. The visit of the hijras on the train near New Delhi. The visits to Connaught Place, Palika Bazaar, Karol Bagh. The often repeated feeling of "being cheated" at the markets of Palika Bazaar. The sly glances at media material containing pornography, be they compact discs, or the famous magazines for men, or the extremely rustic stories in Hindi printed on the lowest quality paper. The roadside dhabas, serving amazingly unhygienic, yet, extremely delicious alu gobhi, shahi paneer, tandoori roti, and matka lassi. The Madras Cafe. MacDonalds, Burgers, Fries, Pizza's, Nirula's, Wimpy's, etc. The strains of all possible, filthy and extremely commonly used swear-words, that would ideally shake one's balance. The cosmopolitan mix of Punjabi's, Madrasi's, Bengali's, Sardarji's, immigrants from the villages around Delhi, the rich and the poor. The smoke, fog, chillness, cold, of the winters. The sand storms of the summers.
Now, it does merit to write about the train journeys too. With a group of 6-8 friends, travel over those 2500 odd kilometers, was great fun. Sharing stories, food, munchies, ideas, opinions, etc. were indeed, unforgettable experiences. The Pilani Express used to mostly run for BITSians alone during those special days. And, oh, boy!, we were notorious for sleeping late at night, and waking up equally late in the morning, to the dismay of the normal co-passengers, wherever they were. Talking of nights, the birthday parties on train and the "bumps" sessions, where all were invited. Word-games, Card-games, DumbC's, gossip about the happenings on campus and off-campus, the high-profile and low-profile "psenti" couples, discussion on "babes" and their hotness quotients, crushes, the actresses, fights over Aishwarya Rai and Madhuri Dikshit, movies, Metallica, Nirvana, G&R, Pink Floyd, Sting, Savage Garden, MLTR, Boyzone, and others, the comprehensive examinations, the instructors, the grades, GPAs, jobs, and what next; well, pretty much anything and everything. Not to forget the mention of the extreme dependence on the Railways food, during breakfast, lunch and dinner while returning from New Delhi; and the equally sheer boycott on the way back from Chennai.
Well, even the visits to the pantry car, on the train, were great fun. It gave umpteen opportunities for both boys and girls, to check out each other. Not to forget the inevitable going through of the reservation list pasted at the entrance of the coaches, so as to have an idea about the co-passengers. Then, there was the more fruitful, catching up with friends, about the New Delhi based incidents. Moreover, incidents of ragging of the first yearites by the psenti-semites was great fun for all, with most inhibitions gone for the juniors. The gorgeous journey on the ghat section from Itarsi to Nagpur and the beautiful sceneries. The customary halts at Nagpur, and the purchase of Dinshaw's ice-creams, be it Winter/Summer, Haldiram's soan papdi and the santara's. After a good two nights, the Pilani Express, would ultimately, arrive at Chennai Central. The dirtiest portions of Chennai would seem like heaven along with the lush green fields, the hoardings in Tamil, and the PTC or the MTC buses. And, the final homecoming. The platform would be filled with the family members, who would have come to welcome their wards.
Well, it is indeed strange and pretty natural, as to how a lot of things change for the better, as we grow up. Some of the things we did were down right stupid and silly. For one, girls are not sex objects. (The reader is recommended to read the author's post on what beauty is). Some of the things we did were more on the lines of being naughty and playful. And, nothing that we did was wrong. We were obviously within our limits, in terms of everything that we did. Overall, those umpteen train journeys and the associated happenings, were an important part of our growing up, then and now. Many things, indeed, cannot be taught. One has to experience them, the way it is meant to be, so as to get the most out of them. All said and done, these experiences evoke sheer memories of memorable nostalgia.
PS: The reader is strongly recommended to read this post, from a BITSian girl's point of view, which the author happened to come across by chance, later on, after writing the post.
