Movers and Packers.

(Continued from the previous post)

To my credit, eventually I did manage to find answers for all those questions on the IIM-A form, by Friday the 11th of March.
Yeah, even the one on my extra-curricular activities. (I had to do a mini survey for that, but hey, people in general are quite similar in their habits and activities).

My train for Bangalore (thats where the interview was) was at 1840 hours, and packing was about the last thing on my mind. But since it was a necessary evil that has to be done anyway, I did a bit of thinking that morning about what are the things I ought to take before I leave for Bangalore.

I knew it wouldnt be too much, because I didnt unpack when I came to Hyderabad. All I would have to do was open the suitcase and drive out the cockroaches.

Maybe, I thought, I might have to take a few other things.
Now what are they.

Amit never misplaces his stuff, so toothpaste, soap and other cosmetics are taken care of.

Clothes might be a problem, because either my clothes are in the bathroom begging for the maid's attention (and getting ours through the 'heavenly' fragrance it emanates) or they are on Kaushik.

My certificates. Hmm.. Someone was complaining about running out of toilet paper a few days back. I wonder why the complaints stopped after that.

So I deduced, against natural logic, that I would have to take a leave to even think about going to Bangalore.

I had to call up my manager and convince him that it was absolutely necessary that I take the day off. When he wasnt convinced, I had to resort to a bit of acting. I told him that I was at the running all over the place to get things done, and to supplement that blatant lie, I let out a few exhausted gasps, which unfortunately sounded more like hoarse moans from a B-grade porn flick, making it all the more difficult for my manager to understand.

Well anyway, the act eventually worked and I didnt have to look for my office ID card anymore.

For the first time in weeks, I began to do some serious work....


Three hours later, I was ready. I locked the apartment, and started walking with a swagger; with the suitcase in my left hand and the briefcase in my right. I thought I looked quite a sight - a bright, macho executive walking majestically and confidently down the corridor, looking the world in its eye.

Until my neighbour's dog started barking.

My confidence dampened further, when the watchman neither gave me the salute (which he usually reserves for Kaushik), nor a warm smile (which he reserves for Amit - brotherhood perhaps) as I walked past him. If anything, his snort was more disdainful that the dog's.

Oh well, at least the auto driver stopped, I thought as I waved out to an auto.You dont get anything in this world free of cost. Not even respect.
Okay, at least I dont get it.

An hour later, I was in the Secunderabad Railway station. I looked around for the electronic board which displays which platforms the trains arrive at.

I found it a minute later, and noticed that it hadnt yet listed the platform number of my train.
So, as with most of the Indian systems, I resigned to the wait, along with quite a few others.

A little later, I realised that the people around me looking at the board werent the same as those some time back.
Wow, since when did Indian passengers run out of patience ?

Half an hour later, the board still hadnt listed my train's platform number. And more and more people were moving away from the board.

Whats wrong with them ? I mean, I can understand why the girls would move away from the place, thanks to my driving (away) force. But the others ?
Isnt patience a virtue anymore ? I thought with a tired shake of my head.

Later still, I realised that there were just 10 minutes to the scheduled departure of my train and the name still wasnt up on the board.

It was pretty elementary.
The board wasnt working.
The trains listed on the board had left hours earlier.

The funny thing is, I didnt have to look far for my train. It was standing at the first platform, almost right behind the electronic board.

Walking along the platform, I eventually came to carriage number S10 - the compartment on which I had reserved my berth - berth number 38.
Now came the interesting part. I quickly scanned the list that was stuck near the door to the compartment.

Berth 36: Priyanka Malhotra.
(Ooh.. reminds me of Priyanka Chopra ! Baby, I'm coming for you.)

Berth 37: Sushmita Malhotra.
(Must be two pretty sisters. I am gonna have a great time !)

Berth 38: Me.
(The name here is of the least importance)

Berth 39: Vinod Malhotra.
(Shit.
Bloody Daddy to spoil the party.)

But I am an obsessively positive man.
I was sure Vinod would have tired himself with all that luggage lifting, and would directly go to sleep once the train starts.

I climbed onto the compartment. I put on my most charismatic smile as I entered the bay. You see, I wanted to create a favourable first impression.

It worked.
Priyanka smiled back at me radiantly.

Only that the 'radiant' smile was toothless.
She looked at least 80 years old.

So much for the babe.

Next to Priyanka 'Grandmother-India' Malhotra, was a man who had to be Vinod. He was an unkempt, balding, bespectacled, middle-aged man. He peered over his glasses at me for a second and went back to his book.

Sushmitha who wasnt there yet was my only hope. I closed my eyes and almost prayed that Priyanka's grand-daughter Sushmitha be young and beautiful.

As if in answer to my prayers, there was a big thud. I opened my eyes, and found the surroundings dark.
Weird answer to my prayer, I thought. Usually when God appears before you to give you a boon, its blindingly bright.

But thats when it is God that appears.
When Godzilla stands in front of you, she usually blocks the lights behind her, and casts a dark shadow upon you.

I hurriedly made way for the 80-kilo heavy weight champion.

'Sussssmitaaa' rasped Vinod, 'You must be tired. Why dont you stretch yourself on this berth?'. He referred to the one I was sitting on.

"Susssmita" the obedient wife that she was, lifted both of her elephantine legs, placed them on the berth and stretched them. Until they almost kicked me off the seat.
I barely managed to stay onto the seat.

And that wasnt the only thing.
There was then a fragrance, that would put even a thousand dead rats to shame.
I nearly died.

Making a Herculean effort, I collected myself, climbed the mini ladder to the upper berth, chained my briefcase to nearby metal mesh and passed out.