Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Sep 11 : Journal contd…
Sep 11 : Journal contd…
The morning started with Holy Quran. I and my two cousins rushed to Calicut to meet with the publisher to discuss some last minute changes on the book. We boarded the bus, and the trip was jumpy and jammed. The road soaked in rain was like caramel cream along with the mud and sand.
At Kuttippuram when the bus stopped, we ran like wild animals towards the railway station. The people coming from the opposite side encouraged us: Vegam! Vegam! And it was obvious we were running fast, breathless.
The train had started moving. We three men ran. The onlookers looked on. We hopped and grabbed the handle as much as we could. We were standing. Well, not in the actual sense of the world. For some time I enjoyed seeing the fields and people who lived by the rail. Suddenly a thought came thundering: what about the ticket? Asthaghfirullah! But why had no one came asking for it so far? I could have paid it then and there!
Only then had I realized that the 99.99% of travelers around me were of those who made this ‘mistake’!
We landed at Calicut and finally reached the publisher’s office. We had tea and light snacks. I managed to buy a collection of works Makthi Thangal, a reformer of Malabar. After finalizing issues with the publisher, I proceeded to meet a journalist friend of mine. We discussed the details of the suicide project.
After everything was over, the train was waiting for us with no time left. Again! We stood for a while near the ticket counter, but we were sure no ticket would fall in our hands within the next one hour: such was the cue. The whistle was sounded and we were going to be grounded. We couldn’t resist. Across the platforms, over the stairs and front of the policemen and officers – we ran! Again. Into the train we hopped.
I felt bad for Uncle Laloo! How many hundreds of thousands like us were traveling with no revenue for the Nation.
God save God’s own land!
