Is it Sunday today?
......I think it is saturday
....may be sunday
....
...
I tend to forget days and dates, because when you are working for a government organization, you never have to do anything, you get two days called weekend, to relax, for constantly resting so long, which makes the weekend appear similar to working days, thus no one can differentiate between these two. Sorry! I went offtrack. Let us come back to the point. Saturday is a holiday for me, my mentor, my co-guides and most of my friends except her. It was a benevolent idea to complete every work procrastinated during last few decades. So I started making a list in "descending" order of date(note:I am an IT professional). Three pages were completely filled with just one line per task of last few weeks only, and there were decades to go. Then I recalled the words of my favourite Professor Abhinay Pandya "Degrading the performance gracefully is called scaling", I checked whether I was scalable at that moment or not, unfortunately I was not. The idea, thus was no more benevolent, I started looking for easy alternatives, only to recall that I had to leave this place and need to go Bangalore in two months. I didn't get sentimental as I knew the whole thing that troubled me more was that I had to go and get the ticket booked. Eureka! I shouted sudenly, I got the work for the day and I got ready-headed towards........nowhere. Got up on the high way and asked a "Panwala"(read:indian entrepreneur) where was the railway station in Gandhinagar. Unfortunately he was a "GUJJU"(read:naive) and suggested me five different routes out of which four were very good. I thanked GOD for his not directing to take a turn towards the side, of my hand with an elbow. I moved on and somehow reached the railway station. I took it as an achievement, because it was infact, untill, to my dismay, I got to know that they do not have the facility for ticket reservation there at railway station. I asked a person there, whether Gandhinagar is really the capital city of Gujarat, he didn't get the joke(gujju factor) and he answered with all innocence "ha! ha! mara vahaala (yes, my dear son!)". I was disappointed as one more joke was screwed by this old bald jackass. Then someone told me there is a place called "Sachiwalaya" where they book tickets and I rushed all the way to Sachiwalaya. When I entered the reservation centre there were two queues one was extremely long and newcomers increased the population of that queue only, while second one consisted of only a few people. I checked whether that was for senior citizens,ladies or handicapped(physically) but it was not. Being a proud DAIICTian I was happy that I got a chance, to get a ticket even before those who arrived prior to me. Those duffers appeared losers to me. Nowadys people don't have the habit of looking for better alternatives, I observed. I was happy that my attitude was much superior to those underdogs. Then, to my dismay I was made aware that the queue was small becuase the closing time of that window was about few minutes away. I had ten minutes, prior to join those so called underdogs. I now understood that they were also human beings and were my fellow brothers from the homosepians family. Sometimes the best alternatives appear to be austerely sober, I gathered. I started respecting those under**** for what they were. I had ten minutes, something was there which haunted me for feeling that way, and being a DTG (Daiict Theater Group) member I could do anything in ten minutes. I thought of performing some acting, cajole the clerk and get me a ticket out of turn, but that was a fantasy, I knew I was not dreaming and thus the idea was dropped. What to do was the question, all of a sudden I got a brilliant idea when I saw an agent giving three forms to the clerk while the law only permits one form at a time. The patriot inside me was ready to be deployed and I freed it. I went to the head of queue and had a talk with the first two people; who I knew were providing covering fire to the person at head node of the queue(agent); about how unfair it was and if they do not stop it, something weird was about to happen. They looked at my strange beard, then those bastards giggled and said "Aap karwalo pahle". I bet they could never guess that I knew Gujarati language very well and I didn't tell them how pathetic there hindi pronounciation was. Anyways I was the front node of that queue now and a single POP(have you ever had a subject in Data Structures?) operation would have gained me a ticket. While I was waiting, a physically handicapped person arrived from nowhere and asked the clerk for ten rupees to which he denied in a way as if it was his work for daily-wages. The buster turned towards me and asked for ten rupees to which I politely(read:politely) denied. He then wore some strange looks and told the members of the queue that I had money to buy tickets but not to give him, and that I was not what GOD wanted me to be. But I was a hard nut to crack and he didn't own the iron teeth, So he left helpless. In the meanwhile the patriot inside me went sleeping and I finally got a ticket, out of the order. Now I understood why railway platforms are pronounced as (Play-tough-arm).
