Doing it the rail way

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It isn't as if he likes train journeys a lot, but for all that my uncle seems to spend a good deal of his time providing patronage to the Indian Railways. I can think of better ways in which to while away time, but obviously my uncle is hard up for ideas that call for self-amusement.

In just the one month, for example, he could have earned himself terrific frequent railroading miles had the railways not been a monopoly, or bothered about such niceties.

To begin with, he decided to make the journey from Guwahati to Delhi on a whim and a Tatkal ticket, but what with the fog and all, spent more than the day-and-a-half he'd bargained for in the company of munching co-travellers who only opened their mouths to eat, which they apparently did with tenacious sagacity.

Having got to Delhi, my uncle now concentrated on returning to Guwahati, and just to prove that we can be as nice about these things as journeys emanating from the east, the return journey was even more delayed so, instead of arriving at his destination in the early evening, he arrived in the dead of night.

Either because he'd become addicted to railway catering, or because he's a masochist, or perhaps because of the sense of ennui brought on by chug-chugging through impenetrable fog, my uncle decided he must once again run the Rajdhani to Delhi.

This time, his companions in the compartment seemed to prefer liquid refreshments. Needless to say the train arrived in the evening when it should have arrived by day, but having by now packed close to six days of living on the railtrack, the thing was in his blood.

So, a few days from now, he will step on to a train that will take him all the way from Delhi to Bangalore which may be a good thing when it comes to all that ra-ra over national integration, but can cost an exhausting three days. Not satisfied with its length, he's then booked onwards to Coimbatore, however long that takes.

It couldn't be all that long though, for promptly the day after he gets to Coimbatore, he will shuttle back to Bangalore, from there to take the train back to Delhi. "You'd better pack me some parathas for the journey," he's warned his wife, so it's clearly not the love of its udipi cuisine that he's doing this leg. "Would you like some reading material," I've enquired solicitously, only to be told that he'll pick up filmi gossip mags from the platform.

"Do you think it might be an illness?" I asked my wife, for I'm fond of my uncle. Besides, one wants to know these things just in case there's a genetic malfunction in the family. "Maybe he's only trying to save money travelling by train," pointed out my wife.

I told her that could hardly be true given that apex fares by air, especially since the announcement of further concessions, are neither more nor less than rail fare, all things considered, and a three-hour flight wins hand's down over a three-day railway toil. "I only hope," worried my wife, now concerned about this potential illness, "that it isn't catching."

I might have thought no more of it if I hadn't heard my uncle call the travel agent, this time to book himself for a train journey to Guwahati once he's back from Coimbatore.

"I couldn't help overhearing your call," I apologised to him, "but isn't fourteen or fifteen days of travel by train in one month a bit much." "You know, that's true," my uncle conceded, "but unless I take the train to Guwahati, how am I going to come back?"