A journey from Chennai to Bangalore

6:30 AM: It is always curious how every time the bus we wait for alone does not turn up. I make up my mind to board a 37G and change  at KMC. It is quite alien to me because I usually get a 26 straight to the Central. A 37G arrives but before I get in, I check the bus behind it. Fortunately, it is a 26, the direct bus to Central.

7:25 AM: I reach the station and stroll to the Brindavan Express docked on platform 3. After looking for F 20's and then giving up and looking for F30’s next to my seat and still finding nothing (which is always the case, so much so I wonder if IRCTC has an algorithm in it's ticketing website to put men and women of the same age group as far as possible in the train) I walk into my coach and dump my backpack. The three-seater I had to sit on looks impossibly small for three people to sit, let alone sit comfortably. The old couple occupying the other two seats look at me with hatred, yes pure hatred in their eyes telling upon me. They probably assumed that the third seat would never get occupied and there I am, in my glorious self ready to devour their extra space. I feel like a villain, thanks to their looks.

7:50 AM: The train pulls out of Chennai Central. The leaky window and rusty grills of the second class seats remind me of the stark difference between the European 2nd class train seats and these, of which I travelled much on the former during a recent vacation.

8:00 AM: I heed to my stomach by opening the little box of rolled Chapatis with stuffed curry mum prepared early in the morning. It is always a weird moment opening food in front of others whom you are not going to offer.

8:20 AM: Realising I have no cash on my phone to call or even to receive calls from my folks (thanks to roaming charges; I am still looking for that news channel which reported that TRAI was going to abolish any roaming charges), I decide to beg for a phone. Shedding the thin veil of shame, I approach the guy sitting diagonally opposite me who turns down the request immediately. And to hear someone tell you that they do not have a mobile phone in this era is quite a lie that even the dumbest of fools would recognize. A minute later, I discover the 'Chota credit' option offered by Vodafone and use it to call my parents. Before I can thank my aunt who picked up the phone, for the soft chapatis, she slams it down, a trait that most people in my family have; impatience.

8:30 AM: The old lady sitting next to me asks for my window seat. I cannot say 'No' to old people or kids, can I? Rules of chivalry are quite clear. I give up the window for the aisle. The guy sitting opposite me is quite happy at my movement since I had been taking up quite a lot of the leg room.

8:45-9:15 AM: I try sleeping in various positions and keep failing miserably. I end up with a sharp neck pain which jolts me to consciousness.

9:45 AM: The train stops at Walajah Road. A huge commotion ensues when it begins pulling out; apparently, one lady in a group of four failed to board the train; the others were beckoning her to hop on to the moving train with out stretched hands. The men in the compartment put in some sense by forbading the women abetting their friend to perform an act which Indian movies have played with for a long long time; the hero running behind the train to catch the heroine's outstretched hand with the villains chasing them.

9.55 AM: The train pulls into Katpadi junction but nothing as dramatic as last time happens. The other seats around mine are filled with men (my freaking luck) who look like they were confreres heading to Bangalore with their families (whom they had dumped in a separate compartment for convenience; I can totally understand that) One of the men joins the rest with his grandchild.

10:10 AM: As the train begins to gather momentum, the men settle down with the little kid. He must be about a year or a year and a half and looked like he loved being passed around from hand to hand. One of the men takes him on their lap and begins having a serious conversation. I pull out my headphones in the pretext of adjusting it and overhear the old man ask the kid if he wants to have wee brandy. He keeps talking to the kid who is staring at him gleefully without understanding anything going around. The old man goes on saying that if he had 15ml, he would reach Bangalore in no time; yes, all this to the little kid. THIS IS THE REASON WHY ONE SHOULD NEVER LET A KID BE ALONE WITH A MAN AND HIS FRIENDS. Well, jokes apart, none of this is serious, I am sure.

10:25 AM: I have a certain feeling that the old man next to me is looking at my phone as I type all this out. I don't really know if he reads English. Can't underestimate anyone, can we?

10:38 AM: Just when I think that this log of journey is going to die down without anything interesting, the group of men in the neighboring seat begin mixing a bottle of Vodka and Sprite into a water bottle. The first conversation they have is about how great it would be if their destination were Goa and not Bangalore. As though the universe wants to support these guys who are about to enjoy their drink, a steward selling Cutlets and Vadais passes our seat. 'Sidedish'u' whispers one man and they buy quite a lot of pieces of Cutlets. One of the drunken men spots a bag fall off from another steward's hand. He scampers towards it and picked up an unopened packed of Boli. Triumphantly, he returns to the seat showing off his finding. The train begins pulling into Ambur. I can smell Biriyani in the air.

11:15 AM: A couple of men begin speaking in loud voices and even swear at each other. Somebody brings calmness to the proceedings. A minute or two later, they decide to roast one of their friends. This guy is incidentally the one who declined my request for a phone call. I was happy; ‘Karma, brother,’ I whisper to myself. Apparently, this man had stopped drinking. Shocked by this revelation, one of them asks him how long it had been since he had last consumed alcohol. He signals '2' with his fingers. 'Two months?' asks the other man, surprised. 'No, 2 days,' replies this guy, finally opening his mouth. Then, I understand that he had been chewing on Supari and hence was least interested in talking.

11:20 AM: My mp3 player runs out of charge and without data on my phone, I feel like I am stuck on an island. The train pulls into Jolarpettai. This place is quite unique, may be not so today. When one travels from Chennai, they would feel the wrath of heat until they reach Jolarpettai. Somehow, once this station is crossed, the temperature becomes very bearable and on most occasions, it becomes pleasant or cold. My guess is that it must be something to do with MSL.

11:50 AM: I have succeeded in dozing off except for the man opposite me who wakes me up since he needs to wear his slippers which are stuck between my outstretched legs. I stifle my irritation; I hate people waking me up, especially if there is no apparent reason.

12:10 PM: We cross the station of Kuppam which signifies the end of the Tamil Nadu border. Kuppam interestingly is in Andra Pradesh. Mobile operators send you two consecutive messages, welcoming you to Andra first and then Karnataka next. I always felt so happy to receive texts; at least these mobile operators send me a few.

12:21 PM: And thus began the second round. This time, the old man next to me realizes that the group was consuming alcohol. One of the men from the group smiles at him and shakes hand, thereby making a pact which people term, ‘A Gentleman's Agreement.’ Men will always be men. And to compliment the alcohol, this time they have peanuts; looks like they have planned the trip quite well. Understanding the presence of too many people, they decide to go one by one into the restroom to consume the drink.

12:30 PM: The strain of sitting is showing on my back. I decide to stand by the doorway. And a moment later, I finally make up my mind to buy the Samosas which were tempting me for over an hour. Every time the steward passes by, I look at the samosas. I think I should not risk my health with the samosas made from ‘God knows how many times’ recycled oil. This time, I stop him on his tracks and make the purchase. Two for 20 bucks and I have the well roasted brown, oily samosas in my hand.

12:40 PM: We cross Bangarpet and as soon as that happens, I am approached by a transgender person. This one is quite gentle. I am not ready to flinch until the guy standing beside me decides to give her money (him/her? Which one do I use? Brings out the debated topic of the need for neutral gender pronoun in English.) She blesses us as we give her some money. Well, as for the other guy, he gives a 20-rupee note and takes 10 rupees change back from her. Yes, he did that. It is always embarrassing to have these people around you especially if you are travelling single. You will never know how they would react if you deny money. I once saw one of them kiss a guy when he refused to give her money, when I was travelling to Mumbai.

1:22 PM: I get off the train which is about to leave the station. I am day dreaming without realizing that the train had pulled into KR Puram. I check my watch and swear at myself. I told my manager I would reach only at 4 PM. I have roughly 2.5 hours to pass. I check with a couple of my friends who are both busy and cannot afford their gracious presence even when I promise that I’d treat them. I walk into my bay at 2:30 with the nonchalance that I always wear on my face when I walk into office.