My The Big Fat Greek Gujarati Family

Now I know what you might be thinking, how corny. Its not. I can't help it if the Rajdhani from New Delhi enroute Ahmedabad in Gujarat is riddled with Gujju families, and one of the most hip'n'happening ones happens to be in my compartment. Its been a long time since I did a train journey, perhaps why I was feeling nauseous at even the idea of a 14-hour ride alone, with no company. Recession has struck, my friend, spending twice the amount on a 2 hour flight just is not that inviting anymore.

I could go from the best possible way to build up the humour, but that would mean double the work for me and since am already writing this whole thing up, just got off a 14 hour train ride and have to take another 3 hour bus ride a few hours from now, I'm going to do this the simple way - chronologically. So get your popcorn and remain glued as this 14 hour saga unveils.

New Delhi Railway Station sure has received a facelift ahead of the Commonwealth Games, but what might seem pleasing to a Delhiite's eyes after looking at a dingy old station for 25 years, might appear as a nightmare for a Korean couple getting off the Guwahati Rajdhani! A dog scampers onto the railtracks to scare away a rabbit-sized rat, who is gleefully nibbling away at a potli - a wonderful display of human craftsmanship set forth by the Indians in which garbage, enough to explode out of two bags, is compactly packed into one, tied tightly and slung across the tracks to strategically land right in the middle, not to endanger any approaching trains. With this woeful scene one can live with, but when you have a bloke drag his child up to the nearby tea-stall, pull down his shorts, and yell at him to pee, it just makes you want to snatch your heart out, and stomp it with your own feet. When will Mera Bharat Mahaan learn ?!

After the ridiculous display of our "patriotism", the train moved forward, finally inching its way out of the junction. Not two minutes into the journey, I realised what I was in for. The lady, a bulky woman of around 55 with greying hair, a heavy voice, and an annoyingly long pony tail went plomp right next to me. Well no, had it been the "plomp" of someone easing their butt onto the seat, I would have said *plomp*, but unfortunately, this was more the gaseous release of unwanted intestinal residue, in short she farted. Now they say its the SBDs which are the most unbearable - Silent But Deadly. I think the lady was oblivious to that fact and decided to become an exception to the fact. It stank so much that the nose hair would curl up and never reveal themselves in broad daylight for fear of having to bear that torture again. Now, usual human reflex demands that the nose be clamped between the thumb and index fingers of either hand with utmost immediacy, but common human courtesy commands you to just smile the smell off and not make the other person feel bad. Am too courteous for my own good ! The lady was, however, unwilling to acknowledge, and bent over, exposing me to the main firing line of the bazooka! I was sweating. This memory, if ever formed, would not leave me for life ! I think there was more in store for me which is why God spared me and left me to live another day.

Now I understand, and am completely at peace with a large family traveling by train, packing their luncheon, creating a lot of noise, because I identify with their excitement, to be able to go around frolicking with familiar faces over an entire stretch of three compartments, that has to have some value. But the tipping point comes when, just because you're thin, you get pushed into a corner, well not literally, but because there is an entire dining table of food laid down beside you. Looking directly at someone else's food is bad manners, they taught me. I had to look the other way, my conscience is feeding on some sort of muscle building protein I suspect. 15 minutes. 25 minutes. I look down again and 43 minutes have passed, my neck starts to ache. Am swearing. Am frustrated. Am in half a mind to throw a tantrum and scare them all away. I don't. Instead I simply turn and give the kid one of the coldest stares ever. Its easy to pick on kids, they get scared easy. So did this one. He ran off to his mom, hugged her tight and took refuge in her palloo. Try not to smile. Try not to smile. You can do it. There you go. Ah shoot, there comes the smile, of great success, and achievement in scurrying off a little kid. Alas, it gets misinterpreted as a playful prank I was playing on the kid, and within a split second he's back right next to me, wiping his soiled hands on the berth, licking them, his nose drooling with goo!

I'll skip the next few ordeals I had to go through for the sake of humanity. We now cut directly to dinner time. Well now Rajdhani offers dinner, included in the ticket fare. So like an honorary Indian, every service has to be availed. In a move by the government to improve food quality, the pathetic excuse for a soup had been scratched off the menu, much to the disgust of the Gujju family apparently. There was much hue and cry for not getting a bowl, or rather tumbler full of swill which was probably first tasted by guinea pigs to check for fatal diseases and then sent through sewage processing. It makes sense to have bread-sticks with soup, but if the main attraction of that combo has been taken off, there ain't much point to the side-kick making a guest appearance is there? So in their plates land two NutriChoice biscuits - a range that has revolutionalised the biscuit industry in India, since for the first time ever, biscuits feel like they're meant for humans and not just dogs. But alas, what do we do? The whole family calls the poor caterer, gives him a good lashing, followed with demeaning words, and the child squishes the pack of biscuits under his feet! I am awestruck! How ridiculously apathetic and insane can you be?!

Main course arrives and having ordered vegetarian food, the Gujju family sits together, this time thankfully the other berth owners have occupied the seat next to me. They call for an extra load of 25 paranthas, which is obviously ruled out by the guy serving since the basic order for others needs to be satisfied first. The bloke, receding hairline, curly hair, an unbuttoned shirt, white chest hair showing, a faint hint of a moustache, and tracks, which I believe could have only be soiled the way they were by wrestling a pig in mud, stands up and shoves the serving guy. We all get up in shock in anticipation of a fight. The caterer gets scared, scolds the guy serving and sends him off. The family gets its 25 paranthas.

Come sleeping time, I am disgusted at the people, and agitated at not being able to get back at them. I know it was none of my business, but still the kid in me wants to seek revenge. Now what am about to disclose better remain between you and me, and not go out in the open lest that family find out. I had the middle berth. My bottle of water was full, and my mouth was dry. All I will say is, if you fill your mouth up tight with water and let it out through a narrow opening by pouting your lips, the stream travels far and wide, and can easily land up on someone's face sleeping somewhere down below, without them realising if the roof is leaking or is it God pee'ing! ;)

I spared the Gujju family after that, reason being, ah well that story shall come in the next post! Stay tuned!