Once upon a time Raman was traveling to Mumbai. He was supposed to attend a counseling session for an MBA course. The college was a prestigious institution, one of the best in Mumbai and renowned all over India. Hence he decided to travel all over from Delhi to Mumbai. He was an engineering graduate and had worked for several years in a manufacturing organization, without much success. He booked his tickets but he could only get his journey towards Mumbai confirmed with reservation. He was waitlisted in the passenger list for the return journey. He assumed it would be confirmed later on. He was not aware what beckoned him in Mumbai. He was a strongly built lad from Haryana and his engineering years had toughened him up. He was opinionated and assertive. He quit his job where he worked with a prestigious organization, to focus on his career as a manager later in his life. But success did not come as he had thought it would. He had to wait for two agonizing years before he converted his first two calls and received a call letter from one of the two colleges in Delhi. But he wanted to experience life in Mumbai. So when the chance came to join Mumbai, he latched on to the opportunity at hand and decided to join the MBA course in Mumbai instead. He decided to call an old friend in Mumbai who readily made arrangements for his stay at his flat in Goregaon. He was anxious and happy at the same time. He had waited quite long for the success to ensue.
And the day he was waiting for came soon enough. He sat onboard Mumbai Rajdhani on his three tier berth, with a novel in his hand and waited for the sleep to come to him. The journey was short. It took some sixteen hours from Delhi to Mumbai on a Rajdhani. He did not know when he fell into a deep sleep and when he woke up to de-board at Mumbai Central. Mumbai felt fast to him. There was a strange urge in everyone walking on the streets, at train stations to reach somewhere early, in a strange hurry. Everyone seemed a little bit preoccupied. He came from Delhi, so it was different for him.
He went to his friend’s place. His name was Arun. Arun arranged some breakfast for him, which was done quite hurriedly yet it felt nice to him. When you meet an old friend, such niceties and courtesies take a backseat and one focuses only on the pleasure derived from conversations alone. Such is the charm of friendship.
Arun told him that he had to go to his office but he assured him that he would return before evening, so they could go out and do some sightseeing in Mumbai. Raman had his counseling to take care of. He got ready for the counseling, dressing up in semi-formals, which he thought suited the occasion. The counseling went fine. He was assured a place in the college, though not in the course he wanted, yet he decided to join. He came back to Arun’s place and they together went out for sightseeing around Mumbai. They had amazing time together, which felt nice since they were together after three and a half years since having been recruited out of college and living in different cities, apart. They returned home in the late hours of night. Arun kept telling Raman stories about the places in sight. Raman, as usual, was delighted. They slept the moment they crashed on the mattress and woke up early to prepare for the day ahead. Raman was supposed to return the same day. He went to see a relative in the morning and took leave from Mumbai to return again. But a surprise awaited him in Mumbai. He was waiting inside the waiting room at the LTT station. He logged on the IRCTC and found out that his return ticket was not confirmed. He soon received a message for the refund. This brought fresh trouble for him. He decided to board a general compartment. The journey was double the amount he had experienced while coming to Mumbai, a straight twenty eight hours he was supposed to sit on a wooden bench. Now, here’s a catch about catching a train in Mumbai and that too in a general compartment. In North people break queues and use their muscle power to board general compartments. But Mumbai being an educated man’s city, people are supposed to stand in queues and wait for their turn. So, Raman sat and waited for the train. It was eight in the evening and the train departure arrival was timed at 12, late in the night. Raman battled extreme humidity, which was new to him. He boarded the train on time and somehow managed the journey. The compartment was clogged with people. There were people on the floor, in the toilets, around the aisle and everywhere they were not supposed to be. It was dark even when the compartment was illuminated. Raman was half asleep and half awake. There were people smoking inside the compartment and mumbling and babbling and it was almost three am in the morning the next day. Delhi was only an hour and a half away. Raman noticed an elderly fifty something gentleman, besides whom a sixteen something girl was sitting with her legs folded around her chest. He noticed that the old pervert was planting kisses on the girl’s back and his hand was fondling her inners. This infuriated Raman. He kept glancing at the old fart to make him aware that he was watching his actions, so make him stop but for his amazement he did not. He talked to the people around him but they felt the same. The old man had some serious guts. The girl’s mother was sitting close to her and the old man felt familiar to them, so people were a bit reluctant to counter the man upfront. Raman stood up as he was supposed to get down, around a half hour early, to stand close to the man and see whether he stops his actions. He did not. Raman felt a sudden urge of adrenaline and he tapped on the shoulder of the old man and asked,
‘’Sir! What are you trying to do to the girl?”
The old man was surprised. He haven’t taken in consideration that somebody would eventually find out and confront him head front. He said,
‘’She is like my daughter”.
His pitch expressed caution. Raman continued,
‘’I saw what you were doing and so did the people sitting next to me.”
He then woke up the girl’s mother and asked whether she has any relation with the man. She answered in negative. This bolstered Raman. He grabbed the old man and asked,
‘’Aren’t you ashamed to do this to a girl who is old enough to be your granddaughter?”
Then suddenly he raised his hand and planted three tight slaps on the old man’s face. And before he could say anything further, the girl’s mother started slapping the girl. Raman intervened and stopped her. He told her that it was her fault that the girl was being molested in front of her and she did nothing about it. The woman was apologetic. Meanwhile other people had taken hold of the old man and had thrashed him and decided to hand him over to the police. A group of people started coming close to the mother and raised a couple of questions. Raman shouted,
‘’Why do you want your questions answered now? You did not have the courage to save her from being molested, when she needed someone to stand by her side. Go back to your places.”
Some people came to him and told him that he did something good and something really courageous. He felt content. This was the kind of man he always wanted to be. The kind of man his mother raised him to be. The kind of man his sister needed him to be. He felt a sense of achievement for having done something good for a total stranger and that too not because he wanted to do charity but because it was the right thing to do. His journey was complete.
