A Weird Story

She kept on crawling over wall, and slipping on ground repeatedly. A small boy was staring at her for last few seconds. She was happy as she was blessing him with the same moral, her ancestors blessed the mighty king with. Keep trying, keep trying....never lose hope. She started crawling all over again, on that same wall and fell all over again. 


That boy finally took that little ant, drop her down and squeezed her bottom against the floor. He was just verifying what her school teacher told him that "HCHO i.e. Formic Acid, occurs naturally, and most notably in Ant's sting."  


Fluid stuck her to the floor and every attempt to move, went unnoticeable. Boy ran after examining that fluid, probably to wash his hand, but it doesn't seem that he'll return. 


Poor ant, was now resting her head on the ground,wasting her HCHO biting a piece of paper lying nearby and regretting over decision to pass her ancestors's morals to a 21st century mind. 

How AC coach is different from Sleeper - A whole new View

Remember, these kind of questions in your school and colleges exam. Difference between Garam Dal and Naram Dal (Social science). Difference between Acid, Bases and salts (9th Standard Science), Difference between line and line segment (Maths). Difference between Noun, Pronoun, Adjectives (Do I need to mention this subject? Anyways, English).

Boring Stuff.......Right? 

But let me tell you, Differences aren't always boring specially when it has nothing to do with textbooks. 

Now this post is all about how an A.C. coaches of typical Indian trains are different from sleeper ones. 

The one who truly inspired me to write this post is 'Dayodaya Express' and the noble cause for which we booked a seat for us was my only sister's wedding. Me, Papa, Di and Mummy were in A.C. coach while my three friends were in Sleeper, walking hand in hand with 6 million other people who travels in this class of coach everyday. Friend's affection and family's aggression left me oscillating between these two way apart chambers and gave me a chance to explore these two worlds.

(My last four posts were too small so i am trying to lengthen the things unnecessarily. Spamming will not be tolerated in comments. :-D)

Ans. 

*(Now don't tell me that you forgot the question, See the Heading).

1). Name:

So, the first difference or we can say huge difference between these two worlds are their names. Lend me your ears for 2 extra minutes before hurling Chappals at me. 

A.C. coaches - quite clear with name, well equipped with cooling machines, well enough to maintain a temperature around 20 degree Celsius. However, temperature totally depends upon the class of A.C. coach. Higher the class, lower the temperature. (Hey mathematicians! find out an answer for me. Why we call 1st A.c. higher class and 2nd, 3rd A.c. lower class. I thought 2,3 > 1. Never mind, absurd question, i said na, i am unnecessarily lengthening this post.) 

Sleeper -  Tricky, they don't call it Non-A.C. It's the other thing that A.C. coaches would give you a better sleepy night then shaky sleeper coaches but who cares, Sleepers are still pushing 4 million people into their dreams everyday.

2). Fans : 

Fans are unfortunately severely neglected in A.C. coaches. They work all day and night long, sprinkling borrowed air from air conditioner to every possible corner but it's Sleeper which has gives them their due. Here, they are the solo hero and only way to spawn forced air over sweating faces. If any of them would stop people will perform every ritual to bring it to life again. Not only this, if you are sleeping on upper birth then you could use that same fan top to keep your shoes, chappals or sandals along with smelly socks.(However, these fans would circulate this foul smell of socks too without discrimination but no complaints, people would think that smell must be coming from outside. :D)

3). Windows :

Has no purpose in Sleeper, sometimes just use to immunize people from hot 'looh'. In A.c. coaches, they seal what, people pay extra for.

4). Toilets :

They need a serious mention here. People in Sleeper coaches are really bad in target or it would be harsh to blame them. Shaky bogies might not let them concentrate to that small target and leave these toilets SMELLbound. 

A.c. has clean toilets with disinfectant liquids while sleeper coaches are deprived from both. (It implies people in A.c. are more prone to diseases than those in sleeper) :D

Now a days you would also find a board on doors of toilets requesting not to use them while train is in stand-by mode over railway station. See the irony! Indian mothers travelling in sleeper send her child to toilets only when Train is standing so that she doesn't has to wash his cloths covered in DIRTY SPRINKLES. :D 
Remember that bad target thing. Ha ha!!

5). Few other non sense Differences :

Sleeper coaches are beggar ridden. If you are travelling in this bogie then make sure that upper pocket of your wallet have few chillars otherwise you could be tease target of these beggars.

A.c. has no accommodation for these ticket-less, self employed passengers.

Mass in Sleeper aren't supposed to be as technological advanced as people in A.c. that's why latter has a laptop or mobile charging socket for every seat while former has just two sockets in one bogie near the gates.

The bars of ladder in A.c. are perfectly spaced and thus can easily push anyone to upper birth without much struggle. According to Railways, people in sleeper are either more athletic or has extra long legs as their ladder's bars are widely separated and one has to almost hop from one bar to other in order to ride the top.

Privacy??????? What the hell is this? Ha ha! welcome to curtain-less sleeper coaches. Presence of any kind of interrupt like curtain could curb the chances of sleeper people to discuss and criticize the government over burning issues.


Well, keeping aside these differences and all, trains are still the lifeline of Indian transport system as a whopping 18 million people travel by train everyday. 

Keep this Indian pulse alive, keep it clean. :)         

That Girl in Pink Walled City - 55 word fiction

Hundreds of eye balls were wandering over her slightly dished out cleavage, while a 'white skinned' blonde who was in her 30's roving in pink walled city. 


Finally, she opened her bag, took a masculine cloth and draped it around her shoulders. Merciless, gigantic sun was still wetting her body, but never mind, at least that piece of cloth could quench thirst of those hundred staring eyes.   



[*This story is result of my own experience while I was with my mom, shopping in Johri Market (Jaipur).]

Lesson

Doors opened from behind, mingling the trapped lights with highly illuminated ones. A shattered voice came from a staggering old man.

"Beta, Do you know, where my glasses are?" asked old man.

"How do I know? And don't you see, I am busy in teaching 'Rahul'. Go back to your room, Shashi will give you when she find it" Ramesh urged.

"Yes, Where were we? Han "Explain in two sentences that, why your father is biggest asset for you in your life". Write the answer." continued Ramesh and dictated the answer to Rahul. 

Rahul blindly echoed his father's words on his Homework copy.

Door got closed, knocking the lights off again. 

Lesson was almost over, so as an old man's plea.  

A Black Window (55 word fiction)

A barefooted kid came running towards a black window of a V.I.P. car. With a scorching sun overhead and hands barely reaching the glasses of window, he thumped.


Those black curtains were still sealing the cool air inside. 


Wheels turned after a while, leaving behind an empty stomach of hardly '8 year' old. 'Health minister' was getting late for his speech on 'Children Welfare'.     

This Is Wrong Honey!!

We both were sitting alone in front of a 'crowd ridden' space of a mall until he came in a flash, flattened his palm in front of me and with his 'hard to figure out' expressions said nothing. His malnourished body was telling what he was in need of, few pennies that couldn't vaporize his hunger but at least can leave enough in him to beg for few more and this time to feed his parents as well. 


"Go away." I said in a 'not pleasant to hear' tone.


It wasn't new for him. He might had been left his pride and honor the day he saw the lights of this world.


He remained motionless, his little hands were intact but it did negligible effect over me. 


"What do you want? Go yar please!" I warned after getting irritated by his breathless way of looking at us. Finally, he moved without uttering a word. 


"Hey Listen" she summoned him and took a 50 rupee note from her purse and gave him. That little boy grinned like a merchant who just found gold in his bathtub.


"Now this is wrong. You are not supposed to give him that, it's like supporting child labor." I yelled.


"Oh! Philosophy?" she laughed.


"Ah! not philosophy. I was telling you that it is wrong honey."


"WRONG???? Ramming red lights is right. Hmm? Passing comments over girls which your friends do proudly, is cool. Right? You know, we complains too much. This is wrong, this shouldn't be done blah blah....Common, we simply do what we want, no matter what we are supposed to. These are Indian traits with which a child here born with"


"I had heard people accusing government over filthy Indian roads , blaming mindless people, while having their gutkha from sachet, throwing wrapper anywhere they want and then taking a blind spit shot at spittoon which never embeds in the target." she went on and on and I was listening like a 3 year old child. I fell short of words.


She continued and this time her voice was much softer, "Look at that kid. His family must have been begging for years, his future generation would beg as well. He will spend his whole life wiping glass windows, and flattening his palm to beg from so called intellectuals like you. Believe me, the day you turn the fate of those poor kids, i would stop showering my gratitude to them till then don't expect me to change."


(I don't know whether she was right or wrong.)


That boy was now getting the attention of his fellows who were busy hovering over that 50 rs. note. This pumped his chest and he was looking at us smiling. Who knows if it was his way to thank.

O Uncle!!!! One Game of Roadrash, Please!!!!!

 Uncles of India are the most astonishing creatures for a child. Uncles, lots of them, 'Bagal Wale Uncle', 'Upar wale Uncle', 'Peeche Wale Uncle' etc.etc. Not only known by geographical location but also their professions gives distant names to them like, 'Pani wale Uncle', 'Bijli wale Uncle', 'Dukaan wale Uncle'. Here's some more, 'Tofee wale uncle', 'Khadush Uncle' and more and more. 

My father has a transferable job so I was exposed to all these vivid variety of Uncles, every one was unique in his own way. When we were shifted to a place, Narnaul [ A little known town in Haryana ], I encountered my first typical uncle. Bald, AH! not being so rude, almost bald, 6 feet tall, bones scratching muscles to come out, equipped with two most notorious kids of the world and a 'Good for nothing' Pomeranian. He was my 'Makaanmalik Uncle'.


On the day of our arrival in his house, he took me to a 'Mithai Wala' and fed me with the world's most delicious dessert 'Ras malai'. I was a foodie since the day my tongue started recognizing the tastes so, that 'Ras Malai' was enough to invert my introvert attitude for my 'Makaanmalik Uncle'. In the colony of screaming small monsters, i was the most silent kid. My mother never allowed me to play with those kids simply because according to her, games of those 'roaring mini giants' were life galloping so 'Makaanmalik Uncle' was the only one i befriended. He was the one I played with, and watched India Vs. Pakistan cricket matches. (I must had watched other matches too but i didn't remember.)   


Transferable job of my father lived up to its promise and this time it landed us in 'Delhi'. Big city with excessive pollution, sky high buildings and an unending construction work which keeps this city always under suffocating dirt blanket, became our new home. 'Screaming Monsters' were now got replaced with the bunch of highly sophisticated city kids (I am calling them 'sophisticated' because they might not even heard of few 'desi' games like 'Gulli Dandaa', 'Kho kho' and all, where almost every game used to end up with a brawl. For these poor, video game ridden, city kids, ramming dirt on road beneath their bicycles tires is most adventurous). My father pushed me in one of the finest schools of Delhi to which most of our colony kids belonged to. This didn't help me get any fast friend either. 


This time another uncle who was friend of my father became my 'Saamne Wale Uncle'. (His house was just in front of us.) 


Talking about city's education, it was alright. A brilliant student of English had turned into a mediocre one. I suffered most in computers. Notepad, Paint, Word pad, these all were no less than torture for me at school but not for those butter driven kids. Firmly holding a mouse and then frequently clicking on icons to launch what they actually asked to was not challenging for those techno freaks. In my town school, I was only taught to somehow open the computer and launch C-DOS to see date, time, calender etc etc. with all the mouse work was headache of teacher. Taming computer's mouse was seeming tougher than living mouse and then 'Bagal wale Uncle' came to my rescue.


One day when I was going home with my bicycle i stood in front of a computer center noticing bike of my 'Samne wale Uncle' parked in front of it. I had heard from my father that uncle owns a computer center near my school and i took no time in guessing that it is his. I parked my bicycle too and peeped into the building. I entered into a small compound through a black door. There were almost 7 to 8 computers, much less than computers in our giant school lab. A theory class was going on a separate room. I found my uncle sitting on a chair as feathery as our school principal has had. He called as soon as his eyes got me.


"So kid, wanna play games on computer?" he asked after my few minutes stay there.


So this torture thing (computer) has something good too, I thought and nodded in reply. (Remember, i was an introvert. So a confident yes didn't sound good to me.)


He switched on a computer and clicked on an icon. No notepad, fortunately it wasn't paint too. It was 'Roadrash', the most addicted bike racing game of that time. With a proper knowledge of controls that he gave me (except those one for kicking fellow bikers) i almost learned the basics. This was enough to ignite the fuel of addiction inside me for that very same game. I inquired in my colony about 'Roadrash' and almost every one already had this game installed on their PC's. Few had completed it too. I sneaked into the house of one of my almost friend 'Mridul' to play 'Roadrash'. He didn't allowed me to touch his new P.C. and himself demonstrated the way to play. 


"See, I stood first" he announced. 


"It's not you. He's Head Popper who came first" i replied


"It's my name, 'Gadhe'"


"Your name is Mridul"


"Head popper is the name i had given to me as player's name, so in the game i am Head popper" He finally elaborated.


I nodded and left.


Next day while coming from school i again noticed my 'Saamne Wale Uncle's' bike. Curiosity clicked. Again i parked my bicycle and ran to that small compound. This time almost all PC's were booked, just as in our school lab where students not even let a single P.C. respire. My uncle finally made my way to a neglected computer.


First thing i did was changing my playing name aka player's name to 'Street Rocker'. (I had been thinking over the name since Mridul told me how to do so). After almost an hour , I completed my first race. It had been late for home so i paddled my bicycle with all my effort but wasn't enough to fill the void of late.


'Where were you?' my mother asked.


Wasn't intended to tell a lie, I told her the reason. To my surprise she behaved normally, the reason might be my mingling with computer which i hatred of. 


Now with passing days i became regular to my uncle's computer center and i almost perfected till level 3 of 'Roadrash'. 'Street Rocker' was ramming his fellow bikers with side kicks (Yes, I learned it too) and achieving the highest feat. Only thing which kept degrading was my uncle's response. Now, he had stopped coming to my seat asking me how's all going. He had stopped patting on my back too which he used to every time when i got a rank. Might be I was uselessly using a computer which should be given to a paying student coming for his computer course there. The feel of negligence forced me to stop going to his center.


I told all this to my mom. She felt bad for a kid which now wouldn't tell her the stories of 'Street Rocker's' success. She promised me to give a new computer as soon as possible. (It isn't easy for a middle class parents to give his child a gift worth half a lakh). For me, it was never easy to pass from the front of that "Roadrash" spot, neglecting it everyday while coming from school, where I was having my finest hour of day. 'Street Rocker' was no longer ramming the fellow bikers. 




KHADUSH UNCLE.............:(