My trip to Gurgaon

I stood in the searing sun like a toasted brown bread right from the oven and if I had stood there for another five more minutes I would have turned into a giant piece of charcoal. By the time I could get into a cab for Gurgaon, my throat was dry. The cab driver nodded more and made strange gestures instead of speaking; in other words, he seemed to have some speech-mental problem.

Before getting into the cab, I had asked him if he would go to Gurgaon but he indicated a 'no' by shaking his head. Then, when a blue shirt guy asked if he would go to Shankar Chowk he nodded his muddled head, while he refused the guy who mentioned IFFCO Chowk, which is one stop after Shanker chowk. Overhearing the passenger uttering Shankar Chowk, I tried to get into his cab. Before I could get inside, he started, and I was on the verge of being dragged like a piece of trash bag. As I shouted at him, he slowed down.

He drove the cab recklessly, and the passengers in it fell on their sides with every turn he took and I looked through the glasspane to see the place. Construction of roads and buildings were going on, while the tarred road ripped through the greenery. The cab went via Kapashera, which was a known route for me as I had travelled across that place the day before in a friend's car.

The muddle-headed cab driver dropped me in front of Trident Hotel saying he would not go further and swept by through a lane. I patrolled up and down from Trident except the place where I needed to go. Finally with the help of the traffic police I found my way and reached my destination.

After my interview, I ran like a bull in all wrong directions to find a transport to Dwarka. Wherever I saw people assembling, I headed towards them but after reaching there I got to know that they were waiting for some other bus routes. The traffic police helped me cross the road three times and then he solved my problem by directing me to a particular crowd. I stood with some 40-50 people waiting to catch a cab or a bus.

Then came an over-crowded bus from where I donno but on it was written Dwarka. If I say I got into it, it would be wrong. I stood on the steps and enjoyed the breeze till I reached Dwarka. My legs ached but that was a better place than sitting amidst a crowd where there was not a bit of fresh air.

The bus conductor wore a green T shirt, his fair complexion seemed to be a canvas for the bright green coloured T shirt. I felt something on my shoulder and turned slightly as there was no space at all to move. It felt soft, I strained my neck and I saw the young conductor's bums. He was sitting on my shoulder and supported himself against the long pole that stands upright to hold the roof of the bus in place. It was okay in a over-crowded bus to search for space but to my surprise seating himself comfortably on my shoulder he was collecting fare from other passengers.

I gave him a good piece of my mind, but nobody told him anything. A guy in the bus felt uncomfortable and gave me some space to stand comfortable. His destination was Dwarka too after a small conversation with him came to know that he was from UP.

Story books tell us about how men cared about women but this is Haryana where in real life common women gets no respect. No wonder human beings need training specially when one places a foot in Delhi/Gurgaon. Minimum courtesy is lacking among the common people in the streets.

16 hrs Hault at New Delhi

In December 2009, I stopped at Delhi for 16 hours with all dust and dirt during my return from my visit to Ajmer. I took the Metro from Chandni Chowk and reached New Delhi station.At the entrance of ND railway station a woman emerged welcoming me with all smiles "I am the Madam here, tell me what you want". I was a bit taken aback and felt cud be an insane woman and she was indeed and tracked me wherever I went...Finally I entered the platform so that she wud stop following me...

I tried to find a rest room but cud not manage one, then I found few foreigners standing in a queue, I noticed it was a cloakroom. I stood behind them and dumped my stuff there in cloakroom. Then I walked within 5 km radius of New Delhi Railway Station...it was 8.30 - 9, I walked down the lanes and bylanes of Paharganj, then I walked back to the station and found more alleys around. In one alley I just walked down out of curiosity and walked a bit more thinking I would get good tea...Further inside I found a clean restaurant and ordered chana batura, gorged upon the stuff, came out and again walked down the other side of the station, Ramganj, and saw nothing except carpentry stuff, came back to the station and then took the main road and walked and walked and finally I saw Park Hotel, I realised then that I was Connaugt Place and that it was a walkable distance from the Railway Station...I walked round and round the area, and realised it was our Esplanade in Kolkata...

None of the ATMs in that area worked that day. I came back to the railway station back and then I took one of the lanes which was left unexplored and there I bumped into Bengalis who told me which lane and bylane had interesting food to offer.

I walked further down and found Bikaner sweets and not Bikanerwala, I tasted the sweets, liked it and packed some for my uncles and then while coming back to the station I realised the street was full of clothes, shoes, chappals, etc. On reaching the station, I went to the toilet, and standing before the toilet mirror I found a weather-beaten crow.

I was feeling a bit cold, so I sat in the ladies waiting room and watched other women. One little girl came up to me and asked my name, she asked me where was my kid. I just gave a smile and the women sitting next to me instructed the child that I was much older to her and that she should address me aunty and not ask my name. The child was least bothered about the social etiquettes and chatted with me as if I was her next door neighbour all the time calling me by my name.

It was 6.30 pm, I collected my bags from the Cloak room and started climbing the stairs until a coolie came up and offered me help, I said I have already come a bit and that it was not that heavy and that I can carry it on my own. But he was very polite, he said "I am poor and if you dont give me work how wud I live", I had to surrender, he steered through the crowd and led me to a point in the platform where compartment B3 wud stop. The train came and B3 stopped in front of me. I got into the train carrying one bag while leaving the other. Suddenly I realised one bag was missing, I flew across the crowd and was surprised to find my bag there - thank God people are scared these days of unattended stuff. I picked my bag and got back into the train, slept well, woke up and chatted with fellow Bengalis and reached home happily.

At Ajmer after 11 years

after getting into the train at Delhi I hit the berth and slept like a log of wood...I opened my eyes just 10 minutes before the train entered Ajmer...Khwajaji woke me up. I jumped off my upper berth, pulled down my bag and jumped off the train...

I checked into a sharing room in Ajmer station and as usual was adopted by one of the pilgrim families, this time a Muslim family, who took me along with them.

It was fun, this family has a pretty married daughter, Asra, with whom I chatted all morning until I took permission from her parents and stayed back in the Dargah for 3 hrs with a huge crowd of women, who read namaz while I said my prayers...

Asra and I did a bit of shopping...walked till the lake and sat there...