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."

!!!