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Insanely Inane Thoughts

If fate doesn't make you laugh, you just don't get the joke.

The Post About Nothing

This post is going to be about...well,as you must have read the title,....nothing.I repeat the title in the first line , not because it's important to emphasise on this point, but because it means nothing to the rest of the post.

I have to get up early in the morning.Even earlier than most birds do.No,it's not because I want to get the early bird's worm.But because I do not have an option.My college begins at 8 in the morning.And I get up by 5.Leave by 6:30.Reach by 7:30.Pee at 7:31.And then do nothing for the other 29 minutes.

I usually travel by the train.On second thoughts,I travel always by train.The other mode of travel is the bus.But bus kya,it takes so much time reaching college that the train seems to be the better of the two vices.

The trains I travel by is nothing like the empty trains one can find abroad.They are morbidly overcrowded at even 6:30 in the morning.Most middle-class Indians are not obese.And most of these most middle-class folks travel by the train or the bus.Not that our public transport is running a mobile gym in their bogeys of sweat.It just happens that one need not exercise one bit for the day they travel by trains or buses(most preferrably during peak hours).People jostle each other for space.If I invade my neighbors space by 1 mm,they get antsy.By the time I encroach their space by a further 5 mm,I find my ears being treated to the most colorful words I could ever imagine.I bide my time and then start re-encroachment.I am not that lucky this time around.My neighbors tuck their elbows into my ribs and give glaring looks which makes Ambrish Puri look like a comedian.While I nurse my bruised and battered body,others trample over my feet unintentionally and shove their stinking armpits into my nose.Even the mujahideens do not have such rigorous torture training in their induction manual.I forgot to mention that the locals like to oil their hair.It's good practise.But when the level of the water in the Tulsi dam goes below the level of oil in the my fellow train traveller's hair,it gets slightly sticky.Most often that not,it's the short local who oils his hair.So I have my olfactory nerves being treated to some of the most sensuous fragrance after fried shit.I act rather nonchalant about this entire affair.But soon my alarm begins to grow.Now Mr.Better-smelling-that-fried-shit has started scratching his butt.I can overlook that matter.I scratch my butt too.But given the position that I am in(5 mm within spanking distance),whenever he reaches for this rather large posterior,he rubs against my groin.Sometimes it hurts.It hurts even more when he confuses my crotch for his butt.I smile beningly at him and remind him that he tend to his side of the garden while I look after my hose.

Stations come and go.But the sea of humanity in the train seems to swell by the minute.I have managed to snake my way towards the door.This way I get to keep my crotch and enjoy acts of encraochment and reproachment from the dress-circle.While I was at it,Mr.Better-smelling-that-fried-shit has managed to get beside me.Now that I have my butt facing the the steel of the train,I feel relaxed.I avoid looking at him as he continues with his adventures with down-under.The crowd starts thinning as the final station appraoches.But Mr.Better-smelling-that-fried-shit seems to be like one of the commuters getting off at my stop.As my stop approaches,I take one final look at my tormentor.He seems to be enjoy taking digs at his nose.I look away saddened at the plight of my temprary fiend.He seems to be an object of abject ridicule rather than one to be feared from.

The train slows down as my station arrives.I get down and start walking towards the exit.I have to brace myself for the misadventure that my life seems to be.

(To be continued......if my readers respond well).
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