Exactly 48 hours ago, near Lal Kila, I was about to board my bus to Amritsar. I had gone #Cashless and had paytmd a ticket online. The ticket gave the wrong address, the one that did not exist and wrong time of departure, an hour and half before the actual time of departure!!! And, topping on the cake... The contact number mentioned on the ticket was not picking the call.
I was distraught, perhaps not yet panicked. I was irritated, perhaps not yet angry.
In comes a sardarji, helpful beyond reason. He asked me the bus number... Lo... Not there on the ticket. Meanwhile the contact number on the ticket responded. Sardarji, perhaps a veteran bus traveller, guided me well. Took me to the agent's office, showed me the bus, even booked a ticket for himself on the same bus!!! I was afraid by now! In our age of selfishness and treason, this was too good to be true.
I asked the conductor where the bathroom was in that area, and he jumped the queue and again guided me to a nearby dharmshala. My wife wanted a bottle of water. So I asked the dharmshala guy to give me one and asked him if he had a change of 100 which he denied. Before, I could reach out to my wallet to get a twenty rupees note out, he had made the payment and refused to take the money from me. By now, I had come to the edge of my seat. What normally should have been appreciated for being an exceptional show of helpfulness to a traveller, was being viewed by me with doubt, casting apprehensions about the intentions of the forthcoming sardar.
But, nothing was to happen. He took his seat as we stretched in our cabin. We were never to meet again as I said thanks to him for his extreme helpfulness. But, I had grown out of the habit of expecting such nature of homo sapiens in real life in our era. I was still on the edge.
Amritsar approached, the sardarji had perhaps alighted before our stop arrived. It is likely that we will never meet again and even if we do, perhaps might not recognize each other. My doubts on his intentions were baseless. But, my faith in humanity was reinforced.
I had always heard quite a bit of positive talk about the sardars as a community as compared to the other communities, from which I actually always differed. I believe that it is never about the community, it is always about the individuals and sometimes their upbringing. But, right then my conscience was pushing me to perhaps start accepting that the sardars might be actually the better lot.
Next forty eight hours passed away in a jiffy. Quite busy and eventful. I barely could get time enough to take my mind back to what had happened that night. That was till now! Till the time I actually started to write or should I say, type!
I had just boarded the train to dehradun. We had just come in and sat on the lower births when two middle aged sardars and a third friend of theirs arrived with quite a bit of swagger. They were confused with their seat numbers, but were very sure that all the three had lower births. I sensed some irritating cockiness. Still, I offered help with their seats. They settled down.
In came a couple in the compartment. The husband requested one of them to allow the lady, who looked like she was a few months pregnant, to take the lower birth to which the third friend said, 'are dekh lenge. Jaisa aapko achchha lage.'
A few moments pass, a few glances exchanged, he asks others, kya karna hai? A few nods and shakes of heads... He remarks, 'teenon niche wale pe hi sote hain.'
The man and wife quietly take the middle and the upper birth as these gentlemen stretched in their lower births. I meanwhile, wanted to go around the corner. When, I came back, I realized that these gentlemen were now in competition with my laptop bag which my wife was keeping on the folding meal table that is there in every compartment. They wanted this bag to be kept below the lower birth so that they could keep there own bag there. I tried to reason with them for a few moments but the sardarji had taken it on him to prove that the commonsense is not so common. Though his seat was side lower, but he did not want to keep his luggage there because some one during the night might walk off with his luggage. His idiosyncrasies were increasing every second.
He had heard me over the phone a few moments ago, instructing one of my men and had deduced that I might be from some officer Cadre and perhaps taken it on him to prove that he is contributing in the upkeep of all officer Cadre. Anyway, I did not wish to get into explaining who is contributing what.
I just looked at my wife and said, 48 hours and we are Poles Apart! The statement perhaps took a moment to sink in and she replied, 'Exactly.'
To cut a long story short, these 48 hours have reinforced two old beliefs that I have always nurtured,
1. Humanity is not dead. We need to trust and nurture the good. There would be a few shocks to endure but the mankind has always survived and will keep thriving.
2. No community is good or bad. It is always about the members of the community and their upbringing.
Man does not only live Poles Apart, but also thrives in the same manner.
Both these have been eternally true since ages and most likely will endure the test of time.
