My Jackpot!

The eventful events in the ladies’ first class coach never cease to amaze me!

I hopped on the 6:25 Churchgate Slow at Goregaon. The 6:25 came at 6:36. At around 6:39 at Jogeshwari, a teenage boy got into the ladies compartment and started yelling out in a highly nasal tone: “Steeeekurrrs! Lo steeeekurs!”

He was selling stickers. There were Spiderman stickers. Heart stickers. Barbie doll stickers. And all other sorts. I can imagine him breaking even in a matter of seconds in a kindergarten school but here he was—in the first class ladies’ compartment. Full of middle-aged women going back home to their husbands, families and cooking. And of course, there was me!

I instantly took an interest in his sticker collection. The butterfly stickers looked irresistible and so did the number stickers. 0 to 9 in fancy colours. I selected 4 sticker strips and asked the guy how much the stickers were for. “Pachaas rupaiyya, madam” he said, very matter-of-factly. I was about to open my mouth to bargain with him, when the fat aunty sitting opposite me in a sleeveless salwar kameez retorted, rather loudly: “Pachaas? Kisko uloo banata hai? Pachaas? Tum ko doosra kaam dhandha nahi hai? Bachey log ko aisa loot-tha hai?”

Now, for the benefit of everyone reading, I’m going to, in the next few lines, narrate the conversation between Fat Sleeveless Aunty (FSA) and Young Sticker Guy (YSG). I won’t bother translating anything in English because sometimes that just doesn’t work. And for the record, I am absolutely delighted she thought I was “bachey log”. Woo hoo!

So, here’s how it went:

FSA: “Pachaas? Kisko uloo banata hai? Pachaas? Tum ko doosra kaam dhandha nahi hai? Bachey log ko aisa loot-tha hai?”

YSG: (turns and looks at her…lifts one eyebrow…) Madam, aapko nahi bhej rahey hai na…apna kaam dekho…

FSA: Yehi mera kaam hai! (she stands up and pokes him on the shoulder) Tum bhikari log duplicate maal lekey, 1^st class ladies main chadtha hai, aur tumko ko kya lagta hai – hum pagal hain? Humey sticker ka daam nahi maaloom?

YSG: (looks at me) Madam, mujhe utarna hai, pachaas rupai deydho!

Fat Sleeveless Aunty was obviously having a bad day and decided to poke his shoulder again.

FSA: (pushes him behind, towards the door) Tumko Hindi samaj main nahi aata? Is kachrey ke liye koi bhi pachaas nahi dega. Ek toh…tum 1^st class main chadna hi nahi chaiye! #$^@!!@ (a mouthful of Hindi swearing)…

YSG: (swears back)

In the mean time, the train pulls in at Santacruz station.

FSA: Chal chal Uttar! @#$%^&!

Poor YSG half got down and was half pushed down. Aunty came back in and stared at me. EVERYONE looked at her and I am sure they were all thinking what I was thinking: “None of this was her business. Why did she pick that fight?”

I looked at her and she was still standing and breathing heavily. She asked me: “Pachaas rupai ke liye, kachara khareed rahi thi?” Then she looked at another aunty (thin and posh aunty) and said: “Yeh bachey log ko paisey ka kimath nahi maaloom!”

By now, Bandra had come and Fat Sleeveless Aunty got off in a puff. She was tall and fat and looked majestic as she walked away. Like the Lion King. Like Wonder Woman. She had just voluntarily fought the evil forces of fake high prices in the ladies’ first class and was off on her next mission (cleaning up Hill Road of all over-priced hawkers!)

The instant she got off the train—there was giggling, some hushed conversation and many were looking at me. One girl, in rather tight formal pants, was staring at me. She kept staring at me till Mahim came. She looked like someone who might know English. Because of the formal pants, I think. Stupid stereotype. I looked at her and said: “I wasn’t going to pay Rs.50 anyway.” I had to make that clear to someone. I desperately wanted someone to know that I wasn’t desperate for a bunch of juvenile stickers. I just wasn’t given a chance to bargain. Tight Formal Pants mumbled something back at me that I couldn’t understand. But, I pretended that I did.

Dadar came. I smiled to myself as I got off. I’ve never been so happy in a long time.

I was identified as “bachey log” twice by a strange, unusually angry woman. And of course, I had four strips of number stickers and butterfly stickers in my hand – that I didn’t pay for! Jackpot!

Thank God for small mercies.

Life is good.

So be it.