Sunday, 21 October 2012

Train (of thought)

After, updating the last post, I did the noblest task that an engineer performs in the scholarly stage of his life, in graciously large amounts. That is, slept.

And then I was in a train.

(Statutory Warning- No, this blog won't be as cool as Inception or even Source Code for that matter.
In case you were even remotely close to starting to expect.)

I was amidst four head-banging guitarists and exchanged stranger-yet-same-aged-hence-cheery glances and asked them what had gotten into them, I mean, where had they gotten into the train.
"Engineering Station, bro!", came the answer.
"Cool", I said, reluctantly adding "Bro" afterwards and added further- "Are you all some band?"
"No, bro. But we might form one, called 'Spastic Orangutan Constipation'".
"Oh!", I said with pain noticeable in my voice, completely sure, that the image of that tormented ape would never ever leave my mind.

I desperately tried to make a head-and-tail of the title, with the limited amount of usable brain that an engineer is left with, but you know, the poetic shade in the names of rock bands is so deep, that our present narrow-minded dictionaries can't attribute a definite meaning to it.

And, I don't know why, but, a peculiar thought kept occurring to me, of the PETA people head-banging in their concert wearing their favorite protest-costume, nothing (which is coincidentally our favorite too).

And then was shot at me, the icicle of a question, which every engineer chillingly fears-
"Do you know playing the Guitar, bro?"

(Contrary to popular beliefs, we engineers follow certain professional ethics and avoid asking each-other's CGPA, and thus avoid long awkward silences.
Thus, the question wasn't "What's your CGPA?" as you had probably expected.)

"No", I said shivering.
"*cold stare*"
"Sorry", I managed to add numbly having been overcome by profound guilt for committing the sin of having wasted my life by not being a pro in guitar by now.
"*cold stare continues*"
"What?", I said to break the ice.

And the next five minutes were spent by them in brainwashing me to move to the 'physically challenged' seat of the compartment, with a guitar being strummed in the background at every punctuation for a dramatic effect.

And I eventually moved.

Then, I saw a guy playing with a DSLR (don't know the full-form, but it's that camera which people hold in their profile pics to flaunt the rising photographer within. Yeah, those photos irritate me too.).

He twisted and turned whatever part of that poor camera he could twist and turn and after having thoroughly enjoyed the sadism, finally focused at something. I gazed at that thing open-mouthed, quite appropriately, as people tend to open their mouths over it. Yeah, you guessed it right, it was a wash-basin.

I let out a sigh and asked what insanity had driven him into doing such a ludicrous act, in these words,
"Uh..Photographer, what are you clicking at ?"
"Dude, I ain't a photographer, I am just an engineer with photography as a passion."
"Cool. But why the wash-basin?"
"It shows the pathos in a train-journey."
"Oh!", and almost felt thankful to him, for not clicking me (when I stood banging at the occupied washroom door in utmost urgency in the morning) in the name of pathos.
"Do you want to see an amazing thing?"

And before I could say anything, there was a big album titled "XYZ's Photography" in my hand.
It consisted majorly of two kinds of photos- without color and without sense.
And in some the watermark was bigger and louder than the subject of the photo itself, as if a narcissistic Shah Jahan had spray-painted his signature in black, right across Taj-Mahal. (Evidently, I suck at analogies)

"You know, only few people can see the creativity and the symbolism hidden in these pics. I don't show my photos to everyone, but then you seemed intelligent enough."
I serenely blushed for 1 full minute and then, realizing that he was eagerly waiting for compliments, added, "Yeah, they are very creative and.... What was the other word ? Yeah symbolic."
"So, like them."
"Yeah, I liked these."
"No, I mean below every photo there is a box, which you tick, if you like it, and on doing that you get to see my creative masterpieces everyday sealed in an envelope waiting for you at the door which will again have a box below that you can tick, if you like it, and then...."

I scratched my head reeling under immense deja vu of having seen this arrangement and album somewhere, but, you know, how the memory is tricked in dreams! I felt pity for that camera that had been staring at that spittoon for about an hour and suddenly the shocking statistics provided by the Camera Rights Association, that had been all over the news last week, 'flashed' in my mind.

They claimed that once in every five seconds, some wannabe, somewhere in the world, molested a DSLR.

And as I tried to slip away from that 'patho'-logical and infectious place and quickly turned away, I saw something that I had least expected to see in a place full of Engineering students and I was genuinely astonished by the presence, that had sparked a sudden amazement and wonder in me. It was almost a miracle witnessing the person in this compartment which could have been possible only by some railway "reservation" screw-up.

I had just seen a girl.

To be continued........



  1. An epic laughter ride. :D

    Great Humor, expression, even analogy ;)
    This was seriously amazing. I'm gonna read it again some day when i'm bored. :P

  2. I'm not going to comment on this one, because I want to read part 2 first.
    There! Its a paradox.
    (My Train of Thought... not even remotely as entertaining as yours :P)