Duo from Gwalior

At 9 in the night, the facial expressions in the Metro premises are dull, boring and tired. Quite natural if you are heading back home after a boring day at work or had a fight with the boss or whatever that has nothing ‘pleasing’ attached to it. The security guys manning the scanners hardly bother to look at the screens after you have put your belongings in it, preferring to chat with their female colleagues manning the checking counter for women.

Their indifferent attitude makes me smile as I pass the security check at Pragati Maidan station… well that happens with monotonous jobs I tell myself as I rush to escalators to reach the platform.

Two simple looking guys, their appearance betraying their rustic backgrounds, are standing there looking all around in amazement. “ Dwarka yahin se jayege,” (will train to Dwarka come on this platform?) asks one as I pass by them. A very common question, given the fact that one often gets confused with the train directions at Metro stations. But what makes me confident that they are new to Delhi and definitely new to Metro is the next question: “Yahi ticket lagegi,” ( is this the right ticket?) asks another showing me the blue Metro token. I suppress my smile and ask them how much fare did they pay per person. “23 rupees.” Well they had paid the right fare… so they need not worry given the fact that all metro ‘tickets’ look alike.

“Where are you from?” my curiosity is aroused. “Gwalior, MP,” comes the reply with a stress on MP. Okay guys, I know Gwalior is in MP, I thought I will tell them but stop. “So which sector in Dwarka?” I ask. A puzzled look comes on their faces. “Actually, we have to meet one of my cousins who works in CISF and he told us to get down at Dwarka. Rest we don’t know.” “Confirm the sector,” I say, “or you are sure to get lost.” One of them takes out the phone and starts fiddling with it. Poor guys, they are not even confident of operating it. The train arrives. “Come, board it, you can call while on move.”

One, two three calls, then a return call, a couple of conversations and finally I find their phone in my hands. “Please ask him which sector,” says one of them. As the train crosses Mandi House station, I am talking to a complete stranger asking him which sector his relatives are supposed to reach.

Address taken, I assure the guys from Gwalior that they can relax for next one hour before they reach their destination. We reach Rajiv Chowk (oh how I hate calling it Rajiv Chowk, Connaught Place was better but sycophancy rules in India!). People vacate seats and I rush to occupy one. The duo manages to get only one which they interchange between themselves for the rest of the journey.

I thank my stars that I could manage a seat. The next one hour could have been quite tiring, standing in that crowd with a couple of books in hand. Two stations later, an elderly gentleman walks in and stands right in front of me. As he had walked in , I had noticed that he was limping. I had hoped that he would stand somewhere else and not near me which was so close to door. But here he was, putting me in a dilemma. Should I offer the seat or not? I get up. He insisted that I keep sitting but then…. He needed it more than I. So just like other days, it was a standing journey back home…