Mountains and Valleys

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Mountains and Valleys;
As I walk across the crowded narrow roads,
Wondering if the trees are too tall
Or the leaves are too green,
Wondering about the animals and birds I have never seen
Trails, stones and grass and leaves
The red roofs and the pretty homes
The monks dressed in red and yellow
The flowers smeared in purple and white,
Snow and glacier, a blissful distant sight,
There’s music in my head
Not the usual octaves
There are dreams in the air,
Such happiness in the unheard sound waves!
Desperately, Oh so desperately!
Let me cling on to the forever of this present,
Let the time run slow
Let the past be gone
I and I, in this moment, let’s just be selfish and not care,
Let’s breath and live and love and let us just  be aware…
Of this blissful peace that we can’t take in,
Of this stunning beauty that is beyond our grasp
A pair of lens won’t capture what eyes can see
A pair of lens won’t tell what we can feel –
The smell of soil smeared on my shoes and my socks,
The tingle of beetle walking on my palm
The pain in my feet when I step over stones
My heart pounding as I walk along the ribbon beautifully spiralled across you,
And yet my ears find symphony in the distant chirping of birds,
my legs hurt, my head spins,
And I am drowning in you
In the deepest of depth, not yearning to be saved…
Good lord! God must have been a sadist!
Why  did you create us when you could create something like this?
To ruin, to destroy, to regret and to deny!
Good lord! God must have been an artist!
A sucker for appreciation, a sucker for some applause!
Knowing the grave consequences and yet creating the cause!

Milestones, along life and along the roads, filled with anticipation and reminiscence,
A cold night of death and pain and miraculous renaissance,
Let me count the stars tonight, both above and below,
Let me sit in the dark and shiver in the cold,
Let me feel the comfort of the pain in my calves and in my heart,
Let me wrap you around as a blanket tonight and weep in your arms,
My tears are of joy, don’t be concerned, if at all you are,
Let me measure the distance in millimeters tonight when finally you are no longer far.

Now you are just a series of images in my head –
Missing out the details my brain carelessly ignored
How do I personify you?
Can a person really be as beautiful as you?
How do I explain the bittersweet memories?
Now you are just a possible food for conversation,
Just a code embedded in the silicon,
Just a checked item in the list,
Just another dust in the mist.

Forgive me if you can,
If I tell you that I too have stolen some traits from you,
Ups and lows
Mountains and valleys
My thoughts and my mind
My mind and my heart
Forgive me if you can
If I tell you that I too have stolen the reason for your creation –
Colliding tectonic plates of impulses
Forgive me if you can
If I tell you that I too call myself as unpredictable as you are
I react without complex brain operations after all,
Forgive me if you can
But I dare not juxtapose your beauty on me
Who am I in front of you?
A moving dot of red and black!
Don’t mistake my camparison for conceit
How can I ever inherit your charm or murderous instincts?
Your perfections and imperfections
You are the breathing existence of an incredible irony
An oxymoron magnified
So forgive me if you can
If I don’t sound like an admirer or even  a sound critic
I wouldn’t be surprised if you call me jealous
I am not an ideal lover, never was, never will be
but that is how I love you
I can’t tell you how much
I can’t tell you since how long
but I would just like to leave this mad proposal hanging in that cool calming wind
Where the sound of my thoughts mixed in the rustle of leaves,
in the sounds of the sheeps and shepherds,
I would leave this unheard for you to hear
with tears running down my cheeks
with the words I did not speak,
with the hate filling up my head as I thought of things I shouldn’t have,
and with the way I miss you now when you are part of the past,
Hoping  that you will forgive and understand…
That I love you, always have, always will
with the first painting of my first drawing book, to now and to forever.

Surat rediscovered; Dutch cemetery

Who were those people who had once been so important that their death resulted in the creation of a whole cemetery?

They must have been pretty significant but now as I look around it seems that all they have left behind is a cemetery with disappeared epitaphs, faded hues, discolored walls, plaster rainfalls, broken and exposed bricks and dust covered carvings. The place that had once been built to be remembered forever is long gone forgotten. The place that was meant to be found is lost with time and ignorance.

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As the cemetery stands for its impending inevitable disappearance, as bones lay buried in the coffins patiently waiting for their complete gradual annihilation, we walk above them clicking photos of what once had been beautiful, we laugh because the people buried around us died more than a century ago and we didn’t know them at all, never have we heard about them, never will we. If there aren’t many people around, some of us even dare to make some private memories. Of course disrespect was not even the last thing in our minds but who has ever been able to control his or her overwhelming desires? Sometimes, it seems like a nice place to smoke a joint or two but we are just trying to enjoy our lives a little more, what’s wrong with that? Children come here in the evening to play cricket. Well after all there is nobody to come here with flowers and weep.

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What’s wrong with all this anyway? What is the point in being respectful to people who died more than a century ago and do not come even a mile close to our ancestry? And besides what lie buried here are just a couple of brittle bones, how are they disrespected if we come here to play or to smoke or to snog or to just have some fun?  How are they offended? We never bothered to respect life, we never bothered to respect history, we never bothered to respect time, we never bothered to respect love so why should we respect century old skeletons?  Obviously nobody cares about them so why should we?

And yet when I look at this disfigured place, I can’t help but wander into the labyrinth of my pessimistic thoughts-

Who will even think of building a sepulcher when I will die? Even with these almost one fifty years of ignorance, this cemetery has somehow managed to survive. I wonder a century from now whether anyone will spend even a second mourning over the fact that my grave bears no epitaph. Will there be anyone who will secretly wish that the grave lying in front of him/her could have been maintained in better way? Who will wonder about the existence of the body lying beneath?  Who will? I don’t even think that my grave will last that long. It would be destroyed way before to bury  some new body. These brittle walls tease me, this impaired burial place laughs at me, these dusted fading paintings and carvings mock me and I stand here in awe, in amazement. I ought to feel humiliated. But I don’t. I am not offended at all. Because I don’t care about my fleeting existence. I don’t care if I am not in the history. I don’t care if I am not remembered. All I care about is how beautiful this place had once been. How wonderful it would be if it could be that beautiful again.

Snap out of it, turquoise ink! You know that nothing lasts.

Nothing lasts. Yes. But this place can still be saved, right?

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The great Indian Toilet issue

 

I like to travel a lot. And in my day dreams I do travel a lot. However, in reality I haven’t traveled as much as I want to or I want myself to want to because-

A. I am lazy.

B. I am not very comfortable traveling alone. ( And my friends aren’t always ready to accompany)

C. I can not poop or pee like I do at home.

C. I can not poop or pee like I do at home.

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One of the most underrated thing in the world has been the feeling when you can spend as much time as you can in a loo. Pee, poop or bath ..Do whatever and you have nothing to worry about. That’s a freedom worth fighting for.

And no, I am not kidding. You know I am not kidding.

It’s such such such a great relief to be able to pee or poop at a nice place. And there is no nicer place than a home or maybe a five start hotel. But we can not really afford a five star hotel every time we need to do our business. So, yes, using the loo at home is most economical and hygienic option.

I have thanked god for various things; I have thanked him/her/it for such loving parents, for wonderful siblings, for equally awesome friends, for good grades at school, for barely being able to pass the semester exams, for a beautiful dress or a shoe or a bag or a fountain pen but I have never thanked him for a nice clean toilet and that’s what I am going to do today.

I thankest thee, O lord – whoever thou are “the creature upstairs” for a good washroom. I shall forever be grateful.

But the sad part is that not everybody in this world has a pleasure of a good toilet. I have been among the lucky ones in that regard.

The act of peeing or pooping should bring out the emotion of great relief but in India, it brings out the emotion of great dread in many many people. And that is because they don’t have access to a good toilet toilet at all!

And the story doesn’t end here. Because of the unavailability of toilet not only are the people not able to pee or poop comfortably, they are also sometimes stalked  or looted or eve-teased or raped or murdered. Yeah.. how you ask? If you don’t have a toilet at home, of course you have no option but to go outside and search for secluded private place.

Did someone just say SECLUDED AND PRIVATE PLACE?

And if you are a woman…

Wow.

 

It’s a shame. And we all are acutely aware of that.

The reason that I am mentioning all this is not because suddenly I feel like doing some serious talk over some serious issue. I don’t do that. More like I can’t do that. But this huge concern over the great Indian toilet issue began to hover upon my heart and mind when I found myself in a rather interesting situation when I was traveling a few  weeks ago. My stomach got upset at the wrong time and at the wrong place and it was  uh..well.. a memorable experience. But on the positive note I managed things quite well and I am still in one piece; Safe and sound. When I reached back home after this interesting journey of mine, I felt so good, sooooo good seeing the nice clean bathroom  that I began to feel sorry for those who don’t have access to hygienic loos. It’s as essential as the food we eat. It really is. In fact they are more essential than food. When I am not at home I eat and drink according to the availability of the hygienic toilets. If it’s not there than I limit my food and fluid intake. So, I can quite safely conclude that my diet depends upon the toilet.

Is it all conveying too much information about my private life?

In the era, when people post there interesting photographs at Instagram, mention where they are heading to, where they are, what they are eating, what they are watching, what they are listening to, how they are feeling at every instant, I think it never is too much information. So, yeah, according to me I am good to go.

And as of the Great Indian toilet issue, I do feel that I should do something about it. Contribute somehow. Make this country a better place to live. But as of now, it’s just in my head. I hope, I hope that I will come out of my laziness zone and actually do something and not just think or publish a post about it.

What a better place would it be if each one of us actually does what we think we should do. What a better world would it be!

 

 

 

 

 

Finally home!

So, here lies the answer of how we finally got home.

A little precap;

Last time you checked we had landed on the Vadodara station. Our tiring journey from Delhi to Vadodara had finally come to an end.

(^To know more details you can read this- What the hell is she talking about?)

But the movie had not ended.

Our destination was Surat, not Vadodara.

We had this general ticket. And even though it takes just about two hours to reach Baroda by train, the prospect of getting into the heavily crowded bogie with our heavy luggage was giving us goose flesh.

But quite bravely, first we did try to sit in a general bogie.

However, the bogie we considered as general was not really general. It was reserved for army and people related to army.

So, when we tried to get in, we were, in simple words, thrown out.

Three individuals who looked hopelessly tired and worn out in every freaking possible way and all these “army” people had got to say was- “Get out off our bogie!”

What kind of army were they if they couldn’t help out a fellow civilian!

Shame on them!

But god was smiling on us from above.

A much more comfortable journey was waiting for us.

And I am glad that we didn’t get into that bogie. Those army people can go fuck themselves ( I have never said this before but I think I will mention it once hoping that it would be enough for all my previous and upcoming posts- “Pardon my language. I swear a little when I write but I can’t help it. )

So, the train we had almost boarded departed. But there was another train that was about to depart soon. What we did was -we sort of bribed the TT, requested him to give us seats if they were available. (We here mostly consists of my brother and sister, I was just a silent spectator the whole time)

As it turned out, the seats were indeed available. And we got to travel the ending two hours of our journey breathing the cool conditioned air.

Of course, we had to pay for that but okay we were happy.

Money CAN buy happiness. Don’t let anyone tell you different.

So, this was how the battle ended and a new era had begun in my life. New era is not an exaggeration or just something that I used as a comic literary tool. No, I meant it.

The train journeys will never be the same again.

The Patna City will be never be the same again.

My sister’s life (and mine and my whole family’s life as well) will never be the same again.

It is indeed the dawn of a new era.

And adding cherries on the top is this year…

This year; Oh! It has been a mother of changes! And not just this year, my whole college life (so far) has been dynamic in a way I had never imagined it to be. Of course, I had dreamed of a huge, humungous group of cool kids that I would hang out with. A trip every weekend or every month. Party every night. Amazing hostel life. Countless love affairs. (Oh! why not confess it?) And even with all that I would somehow, be a good student with a future (as bright as sun) as a good engineer.

None of that shit happened.

None of that shit is going to happen.

What happened instead was something I could have never seen coming.

People changed, Circumstances changed, Thoughts changed, Dreams changed, Beliefs changed.

And I never got to be cool.

I never got to be smart.

I never got to be a hero. (I never wanted to anyway)

I never got to be a bitch. (I badly wanted to be a bitch. Being bad is so cool!)

I never got to be what I wanted to be.

But what I got to be is someone whom I had never imagined before;

Me.

Who would have thought?

Ask the 5 year old me about how I see my life fifteen years later and you will know the difference.

And that five year old me is sitting right next to me asking- Who are you?

They are not kidding when they say that college is all about discovering yourself. Three years and I already do not recognize myself.

I have finally discovered it.

I have been too busy screaming sitting on the roller-coaster rides to realize that what I have wanted all along is something quite different from what I wanted myself to want. Who would have thought?

And that is why a new era has begun.

An era wherein I am not somebody’s daughter, not somebody’s sister, not somebody’s student, not somebody’s friend, not somebody’s “utopian vision” but me.

But me.

I hear some of my friends telling me their amazing tales of their awesome happening college life. Until now I was envious as I had found mine quite boring and dull and undesired. But not anymore. My life is not stagnant. It’s always changing.

It’s ALWAYS changing.

I have wasted too much of time not realizing that.

So, here comes a new sun. A sun filled with hope, with new dreams and a new life.

And a new era dawns in my life.

If you have been traveling pretty much the same path as mine then I suggest that you stop now and look back. I hope you will see the things that I have seen.

I hope you see the five year old you standing there barely recognizing you.

Talk to him. Listen to him and you will know the difference.

 

Anyhow, I was finally in Surat I guess. And the Patna chronicles, hereby, ends.

Of course, there should a special edition covering my sister’s wedding out pretty soon. But I can’t say. I don’t usually get to know the stuff I am going to write about until I am writing it. And when occasionally I do, I don’t write it at all.

So, would I really be writing the tale of my sister’s wedding?

We will find out later.

Anyway, back at the topic of my return journey.

The term battle is undoubtedly a little exaggerated for that but traveling such long distances in India is indeed a very painful task.

And it might not be a battle but it is close enough. Therefore, when we finally reached home I did find my inner peace.

Of course, it got lost again pretty soon.

But it was good to be back home.

It is good to be back home.

Though it is a completely different story that now I am pushed into another battle ground but I think that’s just life and the point is -this story has come to an end.

The conclusion being; my vacation has been quite memorable. How about yours?

Signing off,

Theturquoiseink

 

The general bogie

So, now we are in Delhi. And quite far away from Patna but the ghosts haven’t left us alone. We have missed our train. And we need to reach Surat.

But how?

Well, here’s how…

The general Bogie tragedy

 

Since getting an AC/ sleeper bogie train ticket a day before is as good as winning a lottery in India, we know that our journey can’t possibly be comfortable.

That’s another Impossible that doesn’t say I’m possible.

We could go by flight but then that would have led us to Bankruptcy.

So, here’s what we do; we decide to go by general bogie. If you are an Indian, then this statement would have brought tears in your eyes. And if they haven’t then your heart is made of stone.

Fourteen hours journey in a general bogie; Oh! My sad little life.

But by this time god has softened a bit on us. When we boarded the train at New Delhi Station, it was pretty much empty and we got seats quite easily.

But General Bogie is so crowded that even if you are sitting comfortably on the seat, you can’t really be comfortable. And then there is always that one person around you who would make you consider the possibility of jumping off the train immediately over and over again.

And in our case, we had many.

  • You-mess-with-us and you-are-dead family

These were a bunch of small vendors. They shipped goods from Delhi to Goa and sold it there. And hence they had a lot of luggage.

They entered the train and almost immediately we hear the heated altercation between the “meals on wheels” food vendor and them which was pretty much regarding their heavy luggage.

The meals guy wanted space for his own items and this luggage family were adamant to make a deal mostly because;

A. They couldn’t. They had so much luggage that even after stuffing them under the seats of various compartments ( wherever there was space) and filling up the whole entrance area, one could find the toilet door jammed with their remaining items.

B.They liked quarreling. They just did.

 

  • I-would-make-your-ears-bleed woman.

This woman had a valid point in getting heated by the way the other woman beside her was sleeping. But what made this woman irritating was that she kept shouting and cursing even after the matter was long gone resolved.

She wouldn’t just shut up.

 

These are the most common kind of people you find in a general bogie. On their defense, I would just like to say that maybe they lose it because they must be pretty darn tired and irritated.

 

But then, these people are the exact reason why the other people around get pretty darn irritated and tired.

 

  • I-would-marry-the-seat guy

I have seen people quarreling over seats before but this person, Oh! he takes it to another level. Not only did he quarrel over  the seat, he also sat on the children who were sitting on the seat he wanted. He gets slapped, he gets cursed at but no! Nothing can stop him from getting that seat.

 

Ultimately, I think another guy offered him his seat and the matter got settled but the Academy award winning scene he created is going to stay on my mind forever.

 

From the early morning to the night, we kept sitting and sitting and sitting.

The hot winds continued to kiss our faces but what could we possibly do to stop it? Our skin was covered by thick layer of dust and sweat. We were hungry and thirsty and so freaking tired. We had spent our whole previous night on the station. I did not even have a novel that could give me refuge in its arms. I had already read the two novels that I had brought.

Traveling in train (that too in general bogie) is adventure in its own. And I don’t think I remember the numerous times I have travelled in AC bogies but I am going to remember this journey.

India is a huge country. And traveling from one place to another has always been quite a problematic issue. You want comfort, then you gotta loosen your pockets. You want to save money, you gotta loose comfort. The number of passengers is augmenting day by day. The number of trains we have is not enough.

And still somehow, Indian railways always manage to be at loss. The prices of the train tickets get hiked every year and traveling becomes costlier and costlier.

And I have no idea why I am writing all this.

My point being; I had a painful journey back home.

And it wasn’t over yet.

The train we boarded did not have a stoppage at Surat. And so we had this task of boarding another train from Vadodara to Surat.

And most probably again in general bogie.

And this time we knew that we wouldn’t find a single seat to sit. And with the kind of luggage we had, it could prove fatal.

So, did we make it to our home alive?

To find out whether I am writing this from heaven or not, you can read –

Patna Chronicles;Dawn of a new era -The fourth and the final part of Patna Chronicles series.

 

P.S.The general bogie tragedy has nothing to do with Patna but I still connect the city to it because if our train hadn’t got late then we would have had a comfortable journey back to home.

Confessions of a little sister

Disclaimer; This is a continuation of Patna chronicles; the battle begins

The pre-battle scenario was pretty much the same as it always is. There was sadness, sorrow. People wanted to escape and the battle seemed inevitable. But here is how the brave ones live; they would rather embrace death than live in misery.

Of course, the people, the misery, the sorrow all rested in the heart of a woebegone individual that I would refer as “me”.

But what had made this person miserable?

Her sister’s marriage.

Maybe partly she was sad because the festive fragrance in the air had gone and her normal life was going to be back on track.

Maybe she was sad because Patna might have made her miss Surat but the truth was Surat was all set to haunt her even more. (The college, the studies, the career and Oh! her sad little confused mind! All were waiting for her back in her home)

But mostly she was sad because she missed her sister very badly.

So much that her heart ached just by hearing her name.

But what had led to this sudden missing thingy?

Her sister had not been living with her for quite some time. And the sometime here means years. She had never missed her sister so badly before (except when she left home for the first time). So, why now?

Why now?

 

Because all these years, she had known that her sister was her sister. She will go away and she will always come back home.

And now suddenly her sister was somebody’s wife. She will go away and she might not come back home.

I wish she could explain what vast difference these two sentences made but she can’t.

I think she lacks appropriate words to describe and more importantly she lacks a little freedom of speech here.

(^For the uncensored version, read her personal diary. But since that is not quite feasible so we would just leave it a mystery)

The pre-battle scenario was pretty much a mysterious blend of tears of joys and sorrows. Since my joy retention capability sucked in a most pathetic way, all I was left with was sadness.

And I confess my heart was aching. I confess my eyes were swollen because of crying every night. I wanted to shout at some people. I wanted to curse them in the most merciless way. But I couldn’t.

Sadness is an odd mixture of anger and sorrow. Two of the most powerful emotions in the world.

The question of how a simple amateur emotion like happiness combats with these two is something that I will never be able to understand.

It somehow reminds me of the famous Hollywood movie – Baby’s day out.

But anyway, has anyone ever been able to prevent the inevitable?

And I am sure my heart was, in fact, is exaggerating the situation. Marriage is a happy thing! Heart! Stop being such a party pooper!

 

Oh! Heart! Silently swallow your pain, don’t let it show again!

Eyes have swelled and weakened, don’t let them rain again!

I am sure hope stays nearby! He will buy you a smile,

Till then have a fake one! I am sure it will last some miles.

 

I know you won’t believe but what could have been done?

How in hell, in the midnight, could you bring up the sun?

And the night is not that dark, see how the stars shine?

So, sit here, shut your mouth, don’t let me hear you whine!

 

I am sure Optimism is busy, got her kids to drop to school,

But heart! She is our neighbor; she will come back soon,

And I know Hope is a loner, wanders from streets to streets,

But being the foodie that he is, he will come back to eat!

And love never dies, the eldest vampire we know,

With the constant need of blood you pump where else can he go?

So, what is it you fear, bud? They all are there with you,

It’s a bright sunny day out here, don’t sit back there in blue…

 

And with that Signing off,

Theturquoiseink.

P.S. To read the next part of this series, you may click here; Patna Chronicles- the battle continues

Patna, the Hotel California

If this has got you thinking in any way that I am going to compare Bihar with California, then just grab a gun and kill me. Ping me on facebook and I will give you my full address and the right time when you can break into my house and do the honors. I will leave the doors open. And my last wish probably will be to let me listen to Coldplay. Any of their songs will do, but if you play the songs of Ghost stories then I will be grateful (I haven’t got enough of that album).

But apart from discussing my murder and last wishes plans, I have a lot to tell you and one blog post is not going to be enough. So, this is part one of my PATNA CHRONICLES series – PATNA CHRONICLES; The battle begins. And it is going to about (as the title suggests) this city named Patna.

So, lets get started!

Patna is one of the most ancient cities of India and it is a great city to remember but for all the wrong reasons…
Which, by the way, are…
(Disclaimer;

What gives me right to bitch about this city is the fact that I have been there and secretly found it amazing as well. Non-Biharis and Biharis but Never-been-to-Bihar Biharis are, in my opinion, simply not eligible to comment about this state. And the reason behind this is that their opinions are quite ridiculously based on stereotypes and their own imaginations.So, if this post hurts anyone in anyway (which I don’t think it should) then, don’t spit on me and show me how dearly you love your motherland. We are on the same page; I am just a little less of a patriot. But I love this place in my own way.)

Patna and the traffic tragedy

We have got a train that departs at seven in the evening and we reached Patna at around 3.
Well, we ALMOST reached Patna around three.
Oh! The difference one small little word can make!
Patna has been blessed by the great river -Ganga. It embraces it like a mother meeting her son after a long long time. And who wouldn’t appreciate that! This river pumps blood into this city. But this great river has a great bridge over it named Gandhi Setu. And this bridge, built over one of the greatest rivers of the world, sadly is the greatest tragedy that could ever befall on the face of humanity.

It was designed by the same person who built Guantanamo Bay.

I am telling you, it is indeed that torturous.We were stuck there for three freaking hours and that too because we were in luck. I am not afraid of death anymore but I am afraid of bad luck. Because if good luck means those three and the half hours then I can’t even imagine what  bad luck can be!

When I called Gandhi Setu Bridge great, I wasn’t just using the adjective as sarcasm. It once indeed used to be the longest bridge in Asia. It is 5.5 km long! You don’t come across a bridge this long quite often! Though yes, nowadays, it suffers through a horrible fate. It is supposed to be a two way bridge and at some point it cease to be one because you know one of its incoming lane is a little broken. And by a little broken, I mean like a whole part of bridge is missing there. And that is where the tragedy befalls. Obviously.

The two way becomes one way. And what we see all the time is a huge, huge traffic Jam.

I have grown up in a city of flyovers and broad roads. I had never known in my life what real traffic jam was. And now do I not know it!
Traffic and roads are one of the major problems in Patna. Not just in Patna, but in whole Bihar. Roads are the lifelines of economy.

A city needs good roads.
A village needs good roads.
A village and a city need a good road in between them. That is an absolute necessity.
Unless and until a good network of roads exists how a state can ever make progress!

In Bihar you don’t need to look out for thieves or murderers or any other criminals. These are not the real threat. In Bihar people can be quite friendly and polite. And the probability is quite high that they will treat you good. What you really need to fear once you come here is; Means of transport. The time ceases to exist here. Minutes will turn into hours.

An hour journey could be quadrupled. And that is quite normal. You may not come here with money but you have to come here with a lot of time.

The traffic tragedy on Gandhi Setu Bridge is an everyday issue. And it will continue to be one until it is repaired or the other bridge is completed. Till then every time you happen to cross Gandhi Setu, I just hope you are not in car but just taking a casual walk. But of course, if you are sitting inside a well air conditioned car and have your IPods on then you are good to go. In my case the situation was not exactly the same so yeah, the very name of the bridge still brings me nightmares.

To conclude-In the end, we had to throw ourselves out of the car, grab our stuff, go down and walk over to the other road and catch an auto.

Patna; The traffic tragedy returns

So, okay its 6:50 already and our train is set to depart on 7:15.
We have left the car and we are inside an auto.And guess what follows us here as well!

The Traffic!

Of course, the traffic didn’t end at the Gandhi Setu Bridge.

Its vicious web was spread all over the city. We are running and running but Oh! In a web spun so well how could you ever escape!The adrenaline level has started to get a little high inside our bodies but the traffic continues to torture us very much like the way Bellatrix tortured Hermione. Only this time there were no forbidden spells but sweet symphony of Horns and fragrance of Carbon mono/dioxide.
We are silently praying and though the traffic continues to give us whiplashes, I still know that somehow we will make it to station in time. Some things you just know.

And hell, did we not MAKE IT IN TIME!

Patna; The traffic tragedy v/s The train tragedy

As it turned out, we did not just make it in time; we made it too early in time!
When we reached the station, a pleasant surprise was waiting right there with its arm wide open, ready to greet us with a compassionate irony and sarcasm.
Our train was five freaking hours late.
And that is how fate makes fun of you. The bloody bullies.
The train tragedy in Bihar is ancient.
It’s the heart and soul of Bihar.
You boarded a train and it wasn’t even a single freaking hour late?
Then your “here” is not Bihar Dude! There is no way it could be Bihar! That is one impossible that can never say I’m possible.
So, the list of what you should look out for in Bihar is updated with one more thing;
Trains! They will make fun of your watches in such a horrible way that your watch will commit suicide.
(For the college freshman who happens to read this; you ask what Ragging is. ^That my friend is the ragging which should be illegal.)
And even though we made it to a happy ending, in the end, it turned to be a tragic one anyway.

Patna: The Traffic Tragedy just got served and the train tragedy rules all over the Bihar.

So, we have to reach Surat from Patna. But we don’t have a direct train. We have to go Delhi from Patna. And from Delhi we were supposed to board another train to Surat.
There was eight hour margin between the two trains and we had thought that that would be quite sufficient.
But fate was rolling on the floor laughing at us.
Our Patna to Delhi train was already five hours late. But we had hoped that it will cover during the night because trains like Gareeb rath get preferences and generally they are not delayed.
And even if they are, it is never more than two or three hours.
But of course, we were proved wrong.
In the end, our train wasn’t just 5 hours late, it was 12 fucking hours late.
12 hours!

T-W-E-L-V-E H-O-U-R-S!

While booking the tickets, could anyone see that coming?
Can anyone?
But, oh, yes, you can. When you are talking about Bihar, you totally can. And now I have learnt that quite remarkably well.
So, we couldn’t board on our Delhi to Surat train, because at the time it departed, our train was cradling us in a most torturous way far far away.
So, you might ask at this point that how did I get to Surat ultimately?

Well, that’s another story that deserves another blog post and here it is to quench your curiosity; Patna Chronicles-the battle continues.

Till then let’s end it here and end it like old times.

And by old times, I mean this-
So, kids what was the moral of this story?
The moral of the story was-
Patna is a sweet little Hotel California.
“You can check in anytime you want but you can never leave”   

And if you do try to check out, then ghosts follow you and haunt you until you are shit scared and shit tired and you are crying your heart out- “ I JUST WANT TO GET HOME!! LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Trust me, I have seen those ghosts.

P.S. To read the next part of the series you may click here; Patna chronicles-the pre-battle scenario.