Men and Manners

by Jupinderjit Singh

Guys usually check reservation charts before boarding a train to see if they are lucky to get berth next to a girl.

As I boarded Rajdhani Express for Ludhiana from Jammu and placed my rucksack on the lower side berth, disappointment in the eyes of my co-passengers — all males — was too evident.

One of them, a Punjabi, could not hide his frustration. “I thought you would be a girl. Only your first name appeared on the reservation list. And, you can rarely make out the gender from some Sikh names,” he chuckled.

But there was quite a commotion in other sections with people, mostly men, fighting over berths and luggage space.

Women were busy calming down their children, mostly toddlers. Such scenes are normal in trains in Jammu, where, families are returning from Mata Vaishno Devi shrine after a ‘thanksgiving’ trip for being blessed with a child.

And you will find groups of young men, all bachelors, who are always bragging on how fast they tracked to the temple. They are always smelly and dressed shabbily. Unfortunately, sections on either side of ours had such groups. They were quarrelling with others for berth and luggage space.

My Punjabi co-passenger had his large suitcase stuck in the aisle towards the neighbouring section. He was trying to adjust it but none of the unruly youths was helping him. The youths were equally hostile to an old couple, which claimed the lower berths were theirs.

Suddenly, there was silence in the neighbourhood as the fragrance of a feminine perfume hit me. It was a beautiful Kashmiri girl who had walked in carrying three bags. As all heads turned towards her, I knew all prayed she sat next to them.

The unruly youth suddenly became sober as the girl walking with great difficulty stopped next to them. They sprang to their feet helping her with the luggage.

She had the middle berth but asked for the lower berth. The youths had no problem. They adjusted her luggage under the seat and some on the upper berth. The girl took the seat which the youths had taken from the old couple, who were waiting for the TT, to restore justice.

One of the boys ran to bring water for the girl as she had forgotten to bring it with her. “Lucky b******s,” said my Punjabi co-passenger, who had almost turned green.

Suddenly, the girl speaking Hindi with a Kashmiri accent, raised the alarm as the train moved. “Why is it moving?” she asked. “Obviously, because it is the departure time,” answered a youth, who was already getting protective about her.

“Why? The departure time is 9 pm. Half an hour is still left.” she argued. “See, my ticket says Shalimar express departure 9 pm.” She shrieked when told this was Rajdhani.

The girl panicked and shouted for the train to be stopped. Someone pulled the chain and she asked the youths to help her with the luggage.

There was complete silence for several minutes after she left. Then, my dear Punjabi co-passenger broke it with a classic punch, “Hey, guys, please help me in shifting my luggage to the upper berth,” he said mimicking the accent of the girl — mocking at the poor souls — whose sheepish look said it all.