The last journey was the most 'disastrous one' in the history of disastrous journeys. Destination Kolkata: We took the Rajdhani with some faint, tender wishes in our young hearts that we will meet some young guys (Hunks to be precise) who will be very generous to us, and would lend us their perfect seats, in place of our middle berths.
Alas! As my friend pointed out "Murphy!" We met some strange old men and one very strange old lady, and one really not so young baby boy wearing diapers. We both believe that he should be OFF diapers now. But strangely enough we suspect that he is still breast-fed.
Now we have been surviving for more than 10 hours without fags and we can not bear the torture any more. The moment we got up in the morning, I realized that I would be having coffee without smokes, and even worse I can't even sing "Lucky boy" anymore. Aruni seems happy at that thought! (Singing or even humming anything to torture Aruni was out of question, as the 'League of Extraordinary Old Men' would have killed us by mere disgusted looks.)
The train btw has a hand brake. And can be driven like a normal steering truck. (We like to innovate in situations of utter pain). We stop and start with peculiar jumps and jolts (and jerks/ jerk: the train is). However, we are used to the bumps by now. But we are not really used to stupid baby talks, which majorly involve around "what comes out of a stupid bird." (Shit I dont care!) The pseudo baby was shouting out his weird questions. Example: "what if a hen lays a duck!!! what will the duck lay" . The Mother was laughing away to glory and was as if blinded by the baby's cuteness (utter crap).
And then the old men start!!!!! One of them btw writes Shakespeare quotes on our hangman paper, literally snatching it out of my hand. Me and poor unsuspecting Aruni were playing Hollywood/Bollywood when the paper was snatched from our hands and was made in to a Shakespeare material. With some quote staring up at us, we were bound to display our fake admiration by the silent head-nod.
And to utter desparation of Aruni the train attendant calls her "Khuku" (equavalent to a small girl child). I am the proud 'khuku's' friend, who is also apparently the bong bitch. I was introduced as 'also' a bong!! huh! the prejudiced world. We discussed that the old lady would have fainted if i would have showed them my tattoo. She discussed with her husband, how I was ALSO a Bengali, and they exchanged strange looks!!!
That's it from this shameful smokeless journey!! See you in the next episode of Kahani Is train ki!!! And now the wannabe baby boy is changing his diapers! Time to fade out!
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