M chronicles -III The Patriot

 

“You seem like a robust, agile young fellow”, the old lady complimented. A man, less initiated in the affairs of the world, would have blushed at such perfumed words. I did not. People who know me would attest that a humbler being has seldom existed. But, in some matters, honesty is of essence. Hence, with all the modesty that I can afford, let me tell you that in such affairs as unwarranted cajolery on a train I am a seasoned veteran. I knew what was to follow.

“Would you mind switching seats, my knees you see” she continued.

 I did not bother to check the status of her knees. What did it matter? Belonging to lineage of chivalrous and patriotic gentlemen, I could not refuse her request, even though, to be honest, she did look like a misguided soul who prefers to run marathons on her free time. Her seat was B1 8. The side upper berth near the toilet. No sane individual, even those with an underdeveloped or malfunctional olfactory lobe, would enjoy the sweet aroma of excretion that overwhelmed one every time someone opened the door. But I was relieved. Let me stop you before you jump to conclusions. My prostate is healthy and working fine. You see, I had begun my journey in seat number B5 23, a side lower berth. I switched from there for a young couple who wanted a little privacy to an upper berth from where I was sent away by a family who wanted to travel together to the lower berth which I was sacrificing for the afore mentioned sweet talker. 3 seats and 5 coaches later, I had found a berth that did not cause people to salivate.

The Indian railways advices against touching unattended objects. I wondered whether the opened packet of potato chips someone left on the berth below me qualified as a bomb threat. There were no wires. It seemed a benign piece of food after all. Are you one who thinks twice before doing a good act? I am. Should I deposit the said packet in a waste bin or should I ignore its existence? Different scenarios were played out in my mind. After careful deliberation I decided that my proud ancestors would not tolerate me shying away from the responsibilities of citizenry. I would use the waste bin at the other end of the bogey. That way my co passengers would get an opportunity to witness the workings of a true patriot. Let them swell their chests with pride. I imagined that my co passengers would nod their appreciation at me whilst I walked down the aisle. A middle aged couple would discuss that, barring my obvious physical shortcomings, my character was beyond suspicion and would be an ideal groom for their daughter. I had boarded the train as a normal citizen. I would leave it as an icon for Swachh Bharat Abhayan. I imagined all this while playing with the packet of chips in my hand.

“Have you no shame?” A familiar voice thundered. I did not have to look to know that the voice was capped with the perfectly cut, evenly white hair of Mr M. My run ins with Mr M are already part of folklore. https://krishnanvarmak.blogspot.com/2019/12/mind-games.html  and https://krishnanvarmak.blogspot.com/2020/03/m-chronicles_25.html . I have never claimed the possession of remarkable intelligence. But from a quick analysis of the situation, I gleaned that the chips belonged to Mr M, who had deboarded the train to buy a bottle of water. Out of security concerns, he had carried his bag along with him which gave me the impression that the chips were abandoned by an irresponsible blister. If the circumstances were more favourable I would have taken a moment to appreciate my perceptive capabilities.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, when I turned around.

“How do you do?” I responded. It is imperative to remain social in the face of danger.

“Could not buy your own bloody chips eh?”

“No. I mean yes”, oh! the old devil knew how to frame trick questions. If I did not know better I would have assumed that M had a successful career as an advocate. I was saved by the ticket checker.

“What is your seat number?”, she asked me.

“B5 23”

“And what are you doing here?”

“Stealing chips”, M intervened. 

“That is highly inaccurate” and to prove my point I insisted to the TT that if at all I did steal someone’s chips it shall never be the potato variety. Tapioca, maybe. Even raw bananas on some occasions. But never potato. She did not seem impressed. Probably a potato enthusiast, I thought. Those zealots have been known to be quite vehement in their support of the root vegetable. I drew a diagram and explained to the TT the various seat switches I made to end up here.

“Oh this generation. You have not learnt to say NO!” Mr M interjected again. The TT smiled at him and I could see teeth as white as M’s hair smile back. Wow! Our dentist did do a remarkable job.

“You have incredible choppers”, I tried complimenting Mr M, once the TT had left us.

“Just because I have a few artificial teeth, it does not give you the right to ridicule an old man!”

I realised that I better shut my trap. As is the procedure when awkward silences persist for more than a minute, I decided to visit the washroom to check if it was as dirty as it was before. Yes. It was. I marinated in that pungent smell for a few minutes to let the awkwardness settle down a little bit. By the time I got back, Mr M had already laid down and the packet of chips was still on the berth below me. I did not think much of it as I got onto my berth. But as time passed, a thought was nagging me. What if someone else decides to be the patriot and discard the packet of chips? M would point his finger at me. Reputations were at stake here and a moment of laxity could cost me dearly. I had to be a vigilante. I woke up every 15 minutes to ensure that the packet was still there. 

Around 1AM M woke up. I hoped M would crave a midnight snack and tend to the hitherto ignored chips. But, apparently, M simply had a little extra fluid in his system. I did try to bring his attention to the oily carbohydrate that was waiting to be devoured by nodding in that direction, but M was in no mood for charades and got back to his slumber. Around 2, a young chap boarded the train. As it turned out, his seat was B1 7. The berth under me. There was an impending risk of him displacing my treasured packet of chips.

“You seem like a robust, agile young fellow”, I told him as he was about set down his luggage.

“Say no more!” He replied and went in search of a side upper berth near a toilet.

Around 5, I found Mr M getting his luggage ready to deboard. My exhausting night as the guardian angel for a packet of chips was finally coming to an end. I felt that I might even miss that agent of cholesterol.

“Are you getting down?” I asked M.

“Yes”

“You forgot the chips.”, I told him.

“What chips?”, he asked. His disregard for the packet was hurting, but I decided to overlook his neglect. 

“These!”

“Oh those. My dear boy, that is not mine. I was simply checking how long I could pull your legs. Very long apparently! Now be a patriot and throw it in a waste bin won’t you?”