Life In A Metro

The rush in Kolkata metro is generally maddening but today being Saturday it was still bearable. I boarded a train and swiftly found a place to stand near the seats reserved for senior citizens and handicapped. Unlike other days, today’s seventeen minutes journey was rather quite interesting. People who do not qualify as senior citizen or handicapped also sit there till the time some claimant arrives - mostly an elderly passenger. Few grey-haired passengers simply stand in front of the reserved seat and let the seated passenger to apply his discretion to vacate the seat. But, there are few who come and gesture for the seat to be vacated with an air of authority.

An elderly man, bald, bespectacled and dressed like a working executive sat with a bag on his lap. A middle aged lady with sunglasses fixed on her head sat beside him and the remaining area of the bench seat was empty. As a good gesture the elderly man offered to take my bag, he could perhaps sense that I was wrestling with my bag from one shoulder to the other. I politely declined the offer with the best smile I could ever flash and thanked him, after all how could I let an elderly person to bear the burden of my bag. My bag is excessively heavy as the laptop inside it is perhaps made of either pure stone or maybe it was one of the ancient treasures mistakenly left behind by the Mughal emperors.

“Why don’t you sit here” he proposed indicating at the vacant area of the seat.

I hesitated; I didn’t want to be a subject of menacing looks of others, as if saying “Look, what has it come to, people sitting in seats reserved for the elderly”.

Who knows, some may even go the extent of saying “Such people are the torturer of our treasured old citizens; he should be dragged and thrown out of the moving train”.

Some enthusiast may go even further and proclaim “Why out of the train, he should be thrown out of the city, he should be banished for life, made a ‘Tadipaar’”.

My wayward train of thoughts was broken by a plausible suggestion by the old gentleman “You vacate the seat if someone comes”. I agreed and sat thinking “Is he a mind reader!”

Two old men boarded the train in the next station. I was again swift in taking a standing position even before they could approach their rightful place. One of the old men was tall and thin, looked like 100 years old but had a gait of a college boy; he snapped his fingers and prompted the lady (with sunglasses on her head )to vacate the seat. The lady quickly rose feeling embarrassed. The tall man sat with an air of importance. Once settled, he looked at the lady, perhaps a change of mind; he made some space and asked the lady to sit. The seat bench is designed for three people but a fourth passenger can also be accommodated and that is the common practice. She hesitated, but gave up at the insistence of the authoritarian old man.

In the next station yet another two old men boarded the train and stood near their reserved seat. One of the old men wore a discoloured dhoti and long kurta, a small hand bag clutched under his arm. In between chewing paan he asked the lady to leave the seat. The lady again feeling embarrassed tried to rise but the tall old man instructed the lady in a blazed voice “Just be seated”. The lady sat looking fixedly at the floor; she didn’t raise her head even once both out of embarrassment and fear.

The paan chewing old man’s face contorted and chew vigorously now as a retaliation.

“I know everything, I know everything, you just be seated” announced the thin old man much to the chagrin of the paan chewing old man.

“I had not been practising in the high court for the last forty years for nothing, you just be seated” grumbled the tall and thin old man.

The paan chewing old man now chomped with renewed rage. He then went to the opposite bench seat and stood in front of a young lady who was seated in the reserved seat. The moment she saw the old man approach she pretended to be too occupied in her mobile phone. By this time the enraged old man looked like he would have gnawed his own tongue. He made some incoherent noise but the young lady kept burying herself in her mobile phone.

While all these were going on, the kind old man again offered to hold my bag. I politely declined again.

By this time, my station was approaching. Just before walking towards the gate it was my turn to throw a surprise, I said “Mr. Jain thank you for your nice gesture”.

The kind old man looked at me in wonderment “How do you know my name?”

“I guessed your name” I smirked.

The kind old man looked at me unbelievably with mouth half open and eyes wide open.

I added further “Don’t be surprised Mr. R K Jain we don’t know each other”

He continued looking at me in disbelief..”But..”

I shook hands with him and dispelled the mystery “I stole a glance at your visiting cards while you took out your pocket diary”. The kind old man still kept looking at me in disbelief.

The train halted, the gate opened, the thin and tall old man also alighted and addressed me “I have not been practising for forty years in high court for nothing, I know everything”

I smiled back in agreement.

He went further “Had today been Friday, I would have dragged that paan chewing fellow to the court, ladies must be respected, always”

I again smiled backed only to avoid any further monologue from him but he wasn’t happy with a smile.

“What do you say, don’t you think ladies should be given the supreme respect”

“Yes Sir, always” I finally acceded.

Satisfied, the tall and thin old man strode past me and got disappeared in the milling crowd of Kolkata.