Mamata Banerjee’s heaven looked like hell. The platform was so crowded we were encumbered every time we tried to walk freely. It was almost 8 and we still had half hour to kill. For such dedicated Ornithologists like us, killing time was no difficult task. The grip we had on that beautiful subject called Ornithology was truly exceptional.
I’ve been to Railway Stations many times in my life, but one thing that is still not clear to me is why people prefer to stand at the tip of the platform to check the arrival of the train. The real tragedy is that it has influenced me as well. So, instinctively, I went and crossed the yellow line and stood at the tip. I bent (again by practice) and the smell that came from the railway track made me retch. But what I did see on the track made me nostalgic for a minute. There were some Piglets and a big Sow searching for their world’s pizzas and burgers. That scene reminded me of a nursery rhyme I’d learnt as a kindergarten boy:
Piggy on the railway,
Picking up stones,
Along came the engine
And broke poor Piggy’s bones.
“Oh” said the Piggy, “That’s not fair”
“Oh” said the Engine, “I don’t care”
I smiled at those Piggies and some atavistic reflex made me feel that I had to get back to my gang – immediately.
Railway Station is a place where one gets to see every type of people. Page 3 delicate darlings to village tough heads, Babies to Babes, decent boys (like us) to indecent ‘yo-yo’ boys with studs all over their bodies that always scream ‘I’m-a-moron-please-look-at-me,’ early teens that behave like omniscient to late teens that look obscured, middle aged ‘big’ boys and girls that look tensed to old aged ‘very big’ boys and girls that look mystified by everything around them, so on and so forth.
This is my entry for Indimag's Katha Sagar Contest. Please click on the following link to read further and rate the story.