I love train journeys. Or rather, I love to say I love train journeys. The former was true in times when train journeys were few and far in between. They would be family affairs, with at least 4 berths to our name. One could sleep anytime, sit by the window anytime, stand at the train door anytime... Now, life consists of bi-annual train journeys undertaken alone, unless luggage can be counted as a companion. One can either sit at the window all the time or sleep all the time. And not even think about standing at the door. People without exception behave as if girls traveling alone are more likely to be swept off by the wind. And the pantry food manages the impossible - makes me wish I was eating in the mess! I do not step into a train without a book. But more often than not, the book turns out to be one sent to stress-test my patience. I can almost hear Him laughing at the cheap shot. Unable to read, unable to not read, I end up spending most of the journey sleeping.

Despite all this, I still get excited at the prospect of a journey. Those five minutes spent gazing out the window, cool wind in your hair. The day spent among strangers you've never seen before and will never see again. Waking up suddenly, sure that you have overslept, finding that its just ten minutes since you last did the exact same thing, happily going back to sleep. All those crazy things you think about when you are alone.

This time, the TC gave me something to think about. Its night. I am in deep sleep, minding my own business when a hand shakes me awake roughly. A voice follows.

"Bhaisaab, ticket dikhana."

!!!

It was not as grand as last time, although it was more fun for me because I was a part of it. The recently concluded IIT Kanpur sports meet - diluted in the hope of avoiding certain unpleasantness also ended up avoiding the festive atmosphere. Half the fun in such events is seeing your hostel and roads filled with strangers from another world - they somehow make it a different place. Less teams, less competition and hence less satisfaction, especially in the games I played. I watched the guys fight it out in the same games and man! The difference in level!! I was not sure it was the same game! A rather uncharitable idea occurred - with certain exceptions, beating the best girl player in a sport can be an entry level criteria for the boys team.
A couple of observations when I was watching the guys play. These observations have been made as a complete outsider, for, the level at which the games were played, I am an outsider.

Anger. Frustration. Despair. Elation, no not exactly, more like triumph. The feeling you get after you crush your opponent. Revenge. All so much a part of the game. And very likely to affect it. I wonder if a calm, controlled player would be more effective than one who gets carried away. Sometimes, you need the anger to propel you.

Got to see how extremely important fitness is. You might be the best player there can be, but it can all so easily come to nothing if you can't last for the entire game. It is very painful to watch people huffing and puffing, or playing with a sprained shoulder or ankle. They can't possibly enjoy it. And if you can't enjoy the game, it reduce to senseless physical torture. Games look so beautiful when the effort is not visible.

This from a person who reaches the end of her stamina after 5 minutes of knocking and sprains her shoulder every two days. Now that I've seen how it looks, I'll do all the running the coach asks me to.

If it wasn't for the policeman, every one of us would be a thief!

No. No one great said it. Just me. This is the conclusion I have come to after watching myself for the past couple of weeks. Me, not long ago considered to have machine like sincerity, having to fight with myself for five minutes of work. Just because there is no one to answer to. I never realized I had to be driven!

I look around and see I am not alone. And I wonder, if everyone wants to be a thief, why do we have policemen at all? Why don't we have a "all you steal is yours" kind of society? A friend told me that I leave a lot of unanswered questions on my blog. I agree. Only, she thought I was too lazy to think about the answers while I maintain that I am too dumb. This one too is beyond me. The only explanation I can think of is that some super intelligent fore-father of mine figured out that we'd get wherever we are going sooner if we didn't have to keep checking our backs.