pragati express

I had this ticket from Mumbai to Pune and it said starting station as CST. I had a nagging doubt that it could be Churchgate station , or Mumbai central station. I asked my colleague who is a hardcore Mumbaite and she said CST is of course VT station. I double checked with another friend and only then I was at ease. The places which are so well known have been name changed just like the Maharashtrian women have an annoying habit of changing their maiden names after marriage. Their surname of course changes and their maiden names are also changed and the person really goes into an invisible mode for the outside world. I remember while working in Pune ,on several occasions someone wants to locate a girl from their school/college days and they would ask me "Asha Tolankar" hai kya aap ka office me? I would tell them very faithfully that we dont have such an employee with us. Immediately some staff member who would have eavesdropped on the conversation would say immediately , that we do have Neha Dube and of course they are asking for her!

I got into Pragati express in the good old VT station. I felt i was travelling in Chennai Bangalore Shatabdi express. The ambience, the pantry service and more than that the profile of persons travelling made the connection. It started on time and immediately from the pantry, bottled water was brought out. The interiors of the compartment were full of pictures of Pune and the various tourist spots there. As the train picked up speed, so did the vendors of snacks. We had a choice of cheese sandwich, batata sandwich, cutlets, tomato soup and the 'must taste' batata vada. All the items were wrapped in paper napkins and paper bags. Railway catering service is truly going 'green'.I am a great one for tasting authentic cuisine of that place and got tempted with the batata vada. But i resisted the temptation!

I was politely approached by a man with a request if i could shift to another seat further down the compartment. He said his family was travelling and only his mother is sitting all alone in that seat. I would have readily agreed but for what he said as a clinching argument; it is a window seat maam.I did not want to accept the lollypop that he was offering me for what was a simple act of courtesy. So I stuck to my seat.

I had another lady who was right behind me, who was talking quite loudly on her handphone and also to her neighbours. I know where she lives, what her views are on every political issue of the day and what her plans for the evening and weekend in Pune are. But then this habit of talking loudly on the handphone seems to be a prevalent disease. There were atleast three others in the compartment who were quite seriously bitten by this infectious bug. No, I dont want to know the multi crore deals they are putting through; i dont want to know the umpteen instructions they are giving to their secretaries; also I dont want to hear them telling their friends/family about the exact location of the train every half an hour.It was really comical when the train was just outside the Pune station.Every one of them had to inform their whereabouts to someone who is eagerly(!) waiting for them.We are great communicators, no doubt about that.

I had a young mother as my next seat neighbour. Her son was all of 3 years perhaps and thankfully slept through most of the journey after taking some snacks and cool drinks at the beginning of the journey. He was rudely woken up just before Pune and the mother started to dress him up! I was shocked to see her taking out a plastic box half full of powder with a nice 'puff' sitting inside. She started applying the face powder liberally on the face of the child. What is special you may ask. From time immemorial all mothers atleast in India have been following this ritual. But then this kiddo was very fair and cows milk was oozing from his countenance!What was the purpose of spoiling a blemishless flawless milky white complexion with 'face powder'. Mothers are inscrutable.

The station was nearing and everyone was taking out their luggage from the luggage rack. There was this young girl who was trying to bring down a rather heavy bag. I saw two young men passing by but none of them offered to help.I am not talking chivalry here, but helping another person who needs it.I offered to help and of course she politely refused, but of course i helped her anyway.

Three and a half hours and the time passed swiftly with interesting people and erich sehgal to keep me company. I would gladly do this trip anyday.