Tales from the train.

Picture Credit: Stephen Bailey

So I am in this train, surrounded by chirpy, over excited bongs yapping all around me in all three languages—irritating the hell out of me. Next to me is the bong father-son duo who has been staying in Pune for the past 17 years and has already bagged the two window seats, very conveniently. Just opposite to me is a pot bellied Bengali girl of my age who is crying at the drop of her hat, because her transfer plea to Kolkata has been approved. All these three characters are talking to each other and socializing, while I am just observing and feeling like throwing them off the train skillfully, one by one.

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