A tale of drunks

Travelling in a suburban electric train has its own charm. The services are more regular, quicker and the journey is predominantly hassle free. Also if you happen to sit by the window you are in for a visual treat of exquisite landscapes from Chennai and its suburbs. During peak hours though, the train becomes a veritable sardine can bulging from all its orifices with occupants who have no idea of terms like 'crush load limit'. This is ofcourse not an issue if you happen to travel at night. At that time the number of occupants in the train would be the same as the number of tourists who choose to opt for a package tour of Iraq.

At night, despite absence of the usual hustle and bustle associated with the day, the atmosphere is enlivened by the few who board the train. A few months ago while boarding a suburban at night, I noticed that except for a handful of passengers most of the occupants were in various stages of intoxication. In fact the entire compartment had a festive atmosphere with the crowd in a seemingly boisterous mood. There was raucous laughing, eclectic dancing, lively debating and a lot of inebriated singing. Some of the protagonsists were crawling on the floor, some were fast asleep in a variety of positions while some others were just staring into space. The whole atmosphere was eerily similar to that of the Bihar assembly in session.

Sitting down next to one of the sober ones I proceeded to watch the lively entertainment on offer. What was more, the show cost just 6 rupees, whereas in a cinema you had to shell out a minimum of 50. Sitting in front of me was a Laloo lookalike who did not seem all that drunk. But any lingering doubts were quickly dispelled when he opened his mouth. Catching my eye, he asked me in a low brooding voice that sounded like a wet grinder.

Laloo lookalike: Did you hear about the woman who beat her drunk husband to death using a 6-inch thick, 3-foot long, iron pipe?

Me: Errm.....No.

Laloo lookalike: What is your opinion on the incident?

Me(scratching my head, wondering how to get out of this one): It is terrible.

Laloo lookalike: Yes, it is. She should have used a 3-inch pipe instead. She would have got better leverage in her upswing.

Me: Huh...?

Laloo lookalike: These drunks are vermin of the lowest order. They deserve this kind of fate.

Thankfully Laloo lookalike lost interest in the conversation and went back to staring outside the window. Phew! Talk about irony.

Looking around the compartment, I noticed a few drunks who remained standing despite the presence of a sizeable number of empty seats. There was one guy who was as spindly as a matchstick. Swaying with the sideways motion of the train, he held onto the chain above his head though he barely managed to reach it. Surprisingly, given his inebriated condition, he never lost his grip on the support chain. As a result his whole body was contorting itself into a series of gyrations reminiscent of Prabhu Deva.

There was another who was was tightly holding onto the upright pole near the door and giving a performance that rivalled that of Demi Moore in Striptease. A couple of seats away, one guy was lying on his seat in a strange pose that looked like a juxtaposition of 2 or more asanas. Probably a yoga master who took to alcohol so that he could discover a new asana that would eventually be named after him.

Despite the presence of overwhelming amounts of liquor in their system, the drunks somehow managed to get down correctly at their respective stations. I could never fathom the reason behind this phenomenon. It was almost as if there was a homing beacon at their stations that managed to send a message straight through the depths of the drunks' alcohol soaked consciousness.

Some of them would eventually reach home, whereas most would probably collapse on the pavement before total consciousness seeped through the muddled layers of the brain. For these folks the concept of hangover was non-existant. When dawn arrives they usually go home, clean up and get ready to face the drudgery of the next day.

Finally my station had arrived. It was time for me to get down and go home too. The show was over.