This post is the result of my recent conversation with Pinkerton, my little sibling. We spent about an hour reminiscing about our childhood, and some of the more foolish things we did. It made me realise that certain traits do run in families, and weirdness is one of them.
Once the parents, Pinkerton and I were travelling by train from Guwahati to Kolkata. P and I were on the two top berths, conversing loudly. It went as follows: -
Me: - I have been on this berth for fifty years. I got on, forgot to get off, and now I live here.
P: - hehe.
Me: - I have rats in my hair. They go foraging for food at night, and come back and sleep here during the day.
Me: - I haven't bathed in fifty years. I stink so much that my dog left me. One day he just got off the train and never came back.
P: - heheheheheee....bow wow!
Me: - arf arf!!
Parents: - Sigh. Let's eat.
Other co-passengers: - Wha..?
This other time, my mum, my two sisters and I were travelling from New Delhi to Jamshedpur on a train called Purushottam Express, and we had very adventurously decided to travel by sleeper class. The trip hadn't started very well. We'd almost missed the train, and once we were on it, we were wishing that we had, in fact, missed it. Briefly, it was dirty, crowded, slow...complete tinpot. The next day, on the train, the sisters and I came up with an alternative, a train that we would develop, called the Horror Express. Here's why.
This train would be patrolled by robots armed with machine guns. The slightest violation of norms and rat-a-tat! The mess that resulted would also be promptly cleaned up. If anyone went to the toilet and didn't clean up after themselves, a mechanized boot would appear out of the wall, and would proceed to kick him/her out of the train. If anyone were to spit on any part of the train, it would self destruct in thirty seconds. Ka-boom! And the USP of the train would be that every ticket came with a guaranteed nervous breakdown, free of charge.
Trains bring out the best in my family. That also seems to liven up the journeys of those travelling with us, whether they like it or not. But that's alright. Like ol' Pelham Grenville would say, into each life, some rain must fall.
P.S.: - This one's for my grandpa, who, I am convinced, was the best one in the world. I'll miss you, Dadubhai.