It was a large, red airbag. Somebody’s possessions were
brutally shoved into it, leaving large lumps on its surface. It couldn't even
lie comfortably the way it had been thrown onto the overhead shelf beside its
more polished and fashionable companions. These shared, though, the haggard
look of peeled off skin that was blackened by being relentlessly forced to roll
over and brush against the filth in the railway station area.
But now it lay still, en-route from Jaipur to New Delhi, in
an AC compartment of one of our country’s best trains: The Shatabdi Express.
Central seats of the coach: Occupied by a bunch of noisy
girls in their twenties, beyond themselves with the excitement of teasing each
other and the barbaric games they were immersed in.
25 Jan, 2016. 22.00 Hours: The train halts at Delhi
Cantonment station. A group of foreign nationals who occupied half the coach de-board
along with a sizable number of the remaining passengers, leaving only the
racket of the girls and a few silent passengers reading or sleeping at the
other end of the coach. As the train drags itself away from the platform, an
announcement is heard across the compartment. It is the voice of the attendant and
is asking whose voluminous red bag it is that lies lonely in the corner. There are no claims.
More announcements follow. Enquiries are made at each row of
seats. The news of the development of a promising event has begun to be
whispered by the walls and the roof far down the lengths of the train on both
ends. Attendants, well-meaning gentlemen with paunches and advice, curious
middle-aged ladies, all arrive and huddle around the doors of the coach. It is
suspicious indeed. The Kanpur-Delhi train route had received bomb threats this year,
well in keeping with the tradition of such threats around Republic Day every
year. Grave issue at hand this was, no doubt.
Two policemen push their way into the coach and examine the
bag. It is tapped, punched, kicked, sniffed and x-ray scanned. Grim orders are
issued to the people to evacuate the coach. And as though prodded by sparks of
electricity, everybody flees. A tumultuous uproar of cries, comments, sarcasm,
curses and everything but dust raised from the ground has burst into being. “One
of those White skins has forgotten their bag!” “How can anybody forget such a
huge thing? Don’t be absurd!” Those seated inside, foremost the cacophonous
girls, call for the flinging of the bag through the door and getting rid of the
problem altogether, while they grab their belongings and scamper to the exits.
5 minutes have passed. All is quiet. The train rests at
Patel Nagar station. Another policeman, accompanied by a sniffer dog, comes on
board. Those at the exit have their brows, eyes and ears pressed and strained
to the limits in their attempt to amplify the secretive mumbling within the
group of security professionals around the bag. The bag is to be cut open.
A knife is brought out. The bag is positioned. All faces are
leaden, with a sense of high purpose and fear. Deep breaths are spoken. A few
moments pass.
“Wait! That is my bag! What is going on?” A distressed yell has
suddenly materialized in the middle of the coach followed by a large male body
that has tiny round spectacles perched on its nose and the expression of
ultimate puzzle.
“WHAT?! YOUR BAG?!” The largest policeman
thunders. The others are already thunderstruck to the point that the sniffer
dog and the policeman-turned-bull appear to be the only two living, breathing
entities in the room. But the man continues to blurt out in confusion.
“B-b-but I was in the toilet. I was in the toilet and the
coach was crowded. The coach was crowded. I didn’t know. I was in the toilet. I
swear I didn’t know. Toilet. Crowd...” He is frantically throwing about his
hands and looking for directions to point to. The cursing glares of dog, bull
and bag don’t budge. His head drops onto
his chest. One can only guess how much he wishes he’d stayed in the toilet.
Twenty breaths are released, the coach cools down and the
train resumes its roll towards destination.
23.00 Hours: The train slouches into New Delhi Railway
Station. The girls hug, ready to part ways. Coolies thrust their pan-eaten,
rotten toothed grins into people’s faces. And the large man with his heavy red
bag silently walks out of the platform, meandering through the gum, spit,
vomit, dog shit and so on that adorned the platform.
(Based on true events)
