高铁与出门在外

बेटे के स्कूल की फीस बढ़ गई है, तो इस बार चुनाव में जाने का मन नहीं था — पर माँ ने कहा, "जा, वोट देके आ, कम से कम तेरे जैसी औरतों की परेशानी तो सुनेंगे।" सुबह चार बजे की चाय पर स्टेशन मास्टर बता रहे थे कि कैसे वेटिंग लिस्ट में लोगों को चार-चार दिन इंतज़ार करना पड़ता है, और जो पास है वो टिकट नहीं खरीद सकता। मैंने कहा, साहब, ये सिस्टम तो ऐसे चल रहा है जैसे गरीब का बेटा बस स्टैंड पर खड़ा रहे और अमीर का हवाई जहाज़ पकड़ ले।

Only last month I went to our village near Warangal to see the paddy fields. Son booked me a waitlisted ticket, and I sat in the general compartment for six hours, standing. By the time I reached, my knees were like old chilli stems. All that high-speed talk, but for us common folk, the real problem is that last-minute ticket — not the speed.

बेटा, मुझे मुंबई के लोकल का भाड़ा नहीं पता, पर हम बुजुर्गों को तो सरकार माफ़ कर देती है। मैंने अपनी बिजली की दुकान से कभी बाहर निकलने की हिम्मत नहीं की, पर मेरा बेटा इंजीनियरिंग पढ़ने मुंबई जाएगा, तब उसका मासिक पास का खर्चा मेरी नींद उड़ाएगा।

Ah, you'd expect me to know such things, given my allowance. But the truth is, I only know the price of Manipur Rajdhani's berth to home, not Mumbai's locals. My corporate card covers flights and taxis, so I've never bought a train pass. My real monthly calculations are for the finest Mulberry silk yarn, not a second-class ticket—when a single hank costs more than a year's suburban travel, it puts a different 'phijigee' on the word 'expense'.

Ah, the famous Mumbai local. A second-class daily ticket might be around ₹10 to ₹50 depending on distance, while first class is triple that, and monthly passes offer big savings. But bhai, from where I stand in Gujarat, my only "local" is my trusty Atlas cycle, costing nothing but pedal power for my 6 AM rides. So honestly, I'd have to check the latest charts online—my real expertise is in avoiding potholes on the way to the Sabarmati.

Ah, yaar, I wouldn't know the exact fare from Virar to Churchgate. That world of daily tickets and monthly passes is for my son in Pune, a burden I feel in every college fee reminder. My travel is measured in the quiet footsteps from my home to my salon, just next door. The only first class I know is the comfortable silence of a regular who has been sitting in my chair for twenty years, no ticket required.

Arre, costs vary by distance, but a monthly second-class pass can be around 300-500 rupees, while first-class is double or triple that! But let me tell you, buying that monthly pass was my biggest kharcha-paani blunder last year! 🤦‍♂️ After I got certified, I mostly trained clients online from my flat, so that fancy pass just sat in my wallet while the loan EMI got deducted! Lesson learned, saa.

Oh, this *ashe*, I wouldn't know the monthly rates—for me, it's a one-time second-class ticket, maybe 10 or 20 rupees? I only ride once a year to sell my lampshades at the Crawford Market fair, and I can't justify first class when my cane bundles take a seat anyway.

Last time I went to Bengaluru to pick up my sister’s college forms, I spent three hours on a KSRTC bus that was supposed to be two — driver kept stopping for chai, no one said sorry. Sakkat frustrating. But I prefer that over some private AC bus where they charge double and

Was fixing a busted amplifier last night

They announce another 'Adarsh' school in the papers today, with smart classrooms and swimming pools. It only makes our old village school, where the monsoon leaks onto the blackboard, feel more distant. My MPSC notes on 'inclusive education' seem heavier to lift each time.

Every Diwali bonus goes to Papa’s sandals, but this year it went to a five-hour autorickshaw ride home after the train waitlist never cleared. The railways say “computerised fairness,” yaar, but tell that to the family whose ticket never moves from PNR status while the local neta’s aide gets a confirmed berth.

Dharmendra Pradhan ji ka naam sun ke yaad aaya... jab main Patna aaya tha electrician course karne, tab unka board ka result aaya tha aur mere padosi ke beta ka admission atak gaya tha. Aaj bhi wahi hai, coaching centre ke paise jama kar raha hai. Sarkar badalti hai, par har saal college ki fees badh jati hai, jaise meri bahan ki.

Ay, last week my neighbour's son trying for AC train ticket to Hyderabad, whole day clicking like chittimirayi. Appudappudu slow internet undi, endi saami, evaru fix chestaru? Finally got 2-tier waitlist, tension tho baga sweat ayyadu.

भैया, आज सुबह छुट्टी के बाद घर आ रहा था तो पटना जंक्शन के बाहर देखा — लोग ट्रेन की बोगी पर चढ़ने के लिए धक्का-मुक्की कर रहे थे। एक बुढ़िया को खड़े-खड़े थक कर दम आ गया। ये रेलवे का हाल है, मुन्ना जब कोचिंग जाता था तो भी यही देखता था, अब भी यही है। टिकट के लिए चेयरमैन से लेकर क्लर्क तक सब दूसरा रास्ता निकाल लेते हैं, हमारे जैसे आदमी के लिए सिर्फ 'वेटिंग' और 'ताउम्र इंतज़ार' बचता है।

Achha, that Nolan sahab who made the train film? Still, no train in the world beats the smell of fresh samosas from the hawker at Ghaziabad station when your general class coach stops for five minutes. That is my real “Oppenheimer” blast.

ರೈಲ್ವೆ ಸ್ಟೇಷನ್‌ನಲ್ಲಿ ಗೊಬ್ಬಳಿ ಸಸಿ ತುಂಬಿದ ಬೀಗ್ ಬ್ಯಾಗ್ ಇಟ್ಕೊಂಡು ಕಾಯ್ತಾ ಇದ್ದೆ. ಅದರಲ್ಲೂ ಸ್ಪ್ಲೈಸಿಂಗ್ ಬಸ್ ಟಿಕೆಟ್‌ಗೆ, ಇನ್ನು ಅಧಿಕಾರಿಗಳ ಮಾಹಿತಿ ಎಷ್ಟು ಗೊಂದಲ ಅಂತ ನೋಡಿದ್ರೆ... ನಮ್ಮ ಹಳ್ಳಿ ಮಾರುಕಟ್ಟೆಗೆ ಹೋಗೋ ಬಂಡಿ ಡ್ರೈವರ್ನ ಲೆಕ್ಕಾಚಾರೇ ನಿಜವಾದ 'algorithm'.

Yaar, iss baar Holi pe ghar aane ke liye mera beta teesri baar tatkal karke baitha tha — phir bhi confirm nahi hui. Maine socha, chal, Indigo mein hi nikalta hoon, faayda yeh ki raste mein Bhilwara ke kisi dhabe pe aloo-pyaaz ke kachori aur aam ka panna mil jaata hai, waise gaadi ka loan bhi agle saal tak chukta hai. Lekin sadak pe 12 ghante ka safar, train ka 6 ghante ka — yeh delay kabhi kabhi sochta hoon ki kya hum itni bheed aur struggle ke liye bane hain, ya kuch aur better system bana sakte hain.