Santa at his job:)

The Law of the land is formidable. Every city, with its own eco-system, has an accepted code of conduct which one must unquestionably follow. While I was in Greater Noida last month on a work assignment, I first-hand tasted what underestimating the way ‘things work’ and ‘traffic moves’ on the never burgeoning roads of Noida and Delhi is! The cab driver smirked nastily about covering 46 kms from Dadri to New Delhi Railway station in less than an hour. With anxiety etched all over my face, he knew he had an ignoramus catch and that his pocket would weigh more by end of the day.

“Itne tame mein to ma’am ji bahut muskil hai, par try poora karenge”, the learnt one said. Nonetheless, we started navigating through what looked like a ‘caravan’ on the highway trying to resuscitate whatever time was lost in this meaningful conversation. With me frantically refreshing the GPS maps and wishing that the train was as late as me, Rinku (the driver) meanwhile maneuvered all the signals to flaunt his prowess at road. Rinku chose the ‘fastest route’ irrespective of what the maps suggested and surprisingly was able to cover many milestones on our way ahead of time. Finally when were near Rajghat, )which is the focal point to all railway stations, he asked me to confirm the name of the station as any misunderstanding would cost me missing my train.

While traversing through incessant panic attacks, I thought for a split second and obediently replied – Kashmiri gate, as this was where I had de-boarded the same train two days ago coming from Chandigarh. Assumptions, as is said, are bad! Barely 10 minutes for the train to leave, we reached Kashmiri gate, sighed relief and a porter materialized from nowhere to help me with my luggage asking me the platform number. While Rinku was busy doing his ‘maths’, the porter probably cried for having lost the ‘catch’ in exasperation.

“This train arrives at Kashmiri gate, but departs from Ajmeri Gate, NDLS. It will take 400 rupees and 20 minutes till there”, he rightfully demanded. Before I could realize the intensity of his words, which meant that I was kind of abandoned in the city all because of my own confusion, Rinku smirked even harder and ordered me to get back in to the cab so that he could at least drop me at the bus-stand, just in time, for the next bus back home. By now, he was dutifully committed to take all in his command and dropped me at the nearest bus-stand with only one thing to say “Next time, plan ahead of time, Madam ji, I drove my taxi better than your Shatabdi today, but alas!”. I thanked him and ran.

My ordeal wasn’t over as yet. With fully packed privately-operated buses departing turn-by-turn, I had no choice other than boarding an ‘aardinary (HRTC)’ bus as the conductor called it. I recoiled as I steered past rickety seats into the bus and tucked myself in a corner seat. The bus started almost as soon as there were more passengers than the seats. Different folks with different strokes; people listening to loud music, arguing about fare prices, negotiating for window-seats, arranging oversized luggage backs in the racks, gossiping, discussing, munching; all came ashore. At the signals, numerous hawkers tried selling random stuff; combs, lighters, books, packets of chips, water bottle in chaste Haryanvi. It was nearly 1.00 am when I finally reached home after 6 hours of journey which would otherwise have taken just 3.5 hours.

But then, who gets to tick off ‘Missed the last train back home, only to board the last bus home, just in time, all safe and sound’ from his wish list?! Not many, but a few, in this ‘aardinary’ world.