If travelling from point A to point B –
long distance – was a pain, then travelling back from point B to point A was an
even bigger one. Starting with the logistics of reserving the tickets for the
trip back home, till the time one got into the train only to realise that it
was your worst nightmare come true; being homewards bound was no cause of joy,
while en-route.
There are certain things that the Indian
governmental service is good for and there are certain services for which it is
incomparable – for those like Dr. Sheldon Cooper, I am holding a sarcasm sign
for this one. The railway ticket booking scheme is a long-winding process that
calls for pre-planning one’s trip, months before in advance. And for those
unable to pre-reserve their tickets, the railway transportation department runs
what it refers to as a Tatkal service
– Hindi for an impromptu, immediate service offering – which incidentally
causes a few more headaches, than it alleviates.
Not that the Tatkal service is bad. On the contrary, it’s one of the handiest
instruments that the government has provided for the potential traveller’s
benefit. But the problem is that of the dispensation of seats through the Tatkal mode. In a country where billions
live and a possible potential thousands travel every day, a handful of seats allotted
for the Tatkal service makes it
difficult for people to book their tickets in case of emergencies. On top of
this, since potential passengers can avail of tickets either by visiting the
railway department’s website – for which one has to be a mastermind – or by
physically staking claim on the queue, it becomes a matter of seconds before
the tickets vanish out of hands’ reach. And even if one’s number happens to
feature in the ‘waiting list’ quota, one cannot guarantee that the ticket will
be confirmed till the 11th hour which further compounds individuals’
problems.
Thankfully, in my case, even though I
managed to get a confirmed ticket back to my city of origin – feels sophisticated
to use the term – the emotional hazard of travelling in Second Class Sleeper
was too much too bear. First there was the fact that the railway canteen
employees were ripping money off from passengers, as smoothly and
professionally possible. Honest to God, transcribing a mental accounting of the
money I spent on my trip, I realised that three-quarters of my money were spent
on conveyance rather on my own self. And if the railway canteen fellows weren’t
enough, the way the train kept slowing down was further annoying. Forget the
stations where it had to halt, it kept stopping at really deserted locations,
as abruptly as it could. Even the logical thought that there were no murderous
dacoits way down in the South, could remove the sudden instilled fear that nothing
was wrong and the train was keeping to time, as it needed to be. Every stop
that it took unnecessarily – at least to me, it was – was agony. Not because I
had pressing matters to attend once I came back home, but because it meant
spending more time amidst people with whom I had nothing common. Where in the
past long-distance train journeys promised excitement and thrill, the whole
endeavour now seemed pointless and a huge waste of productive time.
In India, where majority of the people use
trains for long-distance commute, it’s a pity to watch the struggle one has to
endure to travel by trains. It’s in fact an irony that trains being a mainstay
in many parts of the country, the services offered aren’t more
passenger-friendly with either more trains to ease discomfort or more berths
and coaches to allow for more people to travel at their time of choice –
without any compromises, whatsoever.
Continued from...Part Uno
