Forgetfulness is not uncommon when
you deal with more than just what you can deal with. But it is not an excuse for
forgetting. There are people who forget almost everything. From debit card to
pan card, from ATM pin to email password, from current date to spouse’s date of
birth, from own name to own child, forgetfulness is without boundaries.
Remember the Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore romantic comedy of 2004, “50 First
Dates” where Lucy played by Barrymore has short-term memory loss. We had
Kollywood block-buster Gajini by Surya which also dealt with memory loss.
All of us have short or long memory
loss in some way. Memory has three stages: encoding, storing and retrieval.
Retrieval is the most difficult stage. Retrieving the right information in the
right time characterises how brilliant a person is.
For me every travel is a
nightmare. First of all, it is a forceful push to go against the momentum as
proposed by Isaac Newton. Then comes the problem of adjustment such as seat,
food, sleep, strangers etc. The best of travel I enjoy is the anonymity. But
the worst of a travel also comes with the opposite of anonymity, proving one’s
own identity. We encounter people who ask us who we are. How can one explain to
others who one is? Are our names matter
or our profession or our family or address? For a casual enquiry, anything is
fine. But when it comes to the real issue of proving our identity with the help
of an identity card, it is rather simple and at the same time complicated.
Simple, if we have one. Complicated, else.
Years ago, I was travelling by train
with my sister from our work place to another town for a function. It was an
overnight journey and it was a tatkal ticket. About an hour after the
journey began, the Ticket Examiner in glittering black blazers and necktie with
violet and white stripes appeared with a writing pad with the list of the reserved
passengers. I was cool as I had my ticket with me. When my turn came, I
produced my ticket. After having ticked our names in the list, he asked
for my identity card. After giving him a quizzical stare, I searched for my
identity card in my wallet in vain. I continued my fruitless search in my carry
bag. Observing my difficulty, the Ticket Examiner asked me to check with my
sister whether she had her identity card. As I was the sole authority of the
travel arrangements, her negative reply was an expected one.
The Ticket Examiner now turned a
preacher. He, in a relatively louder voice, preached about seriousness in life,
possessing identity card while travelling, obeying rules, respecting the Indian Railways,
failure of the present generation and a host of other things. Humiliated, I asked him
what he wanted for winding up the preaching. He then became irritated and
declared that we were illegal passengers. But, I claimed that we had a valid
ticket. He replied by reading the rule of the Railways printed on the e-ticket.
That clearly mentioned that we were illegal passengers. Helpless, I surrendered
to him and asked what I should do for becoming a legal passenger. He replied to
me that he would settle the matter after all the checkings were over. To this, I
told him that I could pay the penalty. He became very gentle and told me that
he would settle the issue after some time. But I did not agree to this. I told
him to impose fine on me and to make us legal passengers. He was still in the
procrastinating mood. Then my sister joined me asking the Ticket Examiner to
impose fine or face complaint to the higher authorities. We ended up paying
full ticket charge and the penalty of Rs. 500 each with a valid receipt. The
story did not end here. After the function was over, we had to travel back in
the next evening. As we did not have the identity cards, we went straight to the
Ticket Examiner, paid and obtained the receipt for the full tickets and the penalty
without giving a chance to him to find fault with us.
Years passed. I travelled several
times in the trains. I love trains for many reasons. The parallel rails, the
connected buses, the ever adjusting meanderings of the chain of the buses etc.
always amused me. Long or short, I always preferred trains. As I used to arrive only at the last minute, there are countless incidents that are associated with my travels.
But this one which I experienced the other day was something very unique.
It was yet another overnight
journey. I had to deliver an invited talk. The tickets were booked by the
organisers and the details were messaged. As usual, I left my room about forty
minutes before the actual departure of the train. Fortunately, I could catch the third
autorikshaw after stepping onto the road. The driver was very cordial. The meter
was not for a short distance race. I felt relaxed. After sending a couple of
important messages and making some calls, my attention turned towards the road. The road
was relatively quiet. Visibly, there was no huge rush even though the office
hours were still not over. I expected to get some fifteen minutes at the
railway station. Once when I passed the Hudson circle, which was about three
kilometres away from the station, I got a shooting pain up my spine reaching my
heart. I started searching my bag. No, it was not there. I could not find my
identity card in it. This was a small bag which I rarely used for travel. I chose this because the travel was just for
a day. As a precaution, I had kept the original-look-like copies of my identity
card in my other bags. As I never used this one, I did not care to insert one
in it. In the hurry of getting out of my room, the thought of identity card never
flashed too.
The pain slowly spread to the other
parts of the body. I was fatigued. I only had Rs. 550 in my pocket which I
borrowed from my friend just before the coming out my room. I had to deliver the lecture
the next day as the organisers chose that day after checking my convenience. I
had no money to pay fine. A bus ticket to the
destination, if at all it was available, would cost more than the amount I had. I
had a moment of prayer. Instantly, I was back to normalcy. Within no time, the
autorikshaw dropped me in front of the railway station. The meter just showed
Rs. 98 which was much lower than the average rate in my city. (A couple of
months early, I had travelled in an autorikshaw which displayed the Rs. 320 for
the same distance). As I felt the driver was just, I paid him double and walked
towards towards the train. There were
some 18 minutes left for the scheduled departure of the train.
All of a sudden, as if guided, I
turned towards the ticket counter. The ticket counters were almost empty. I got
a second class ticket for Rs. 150 quickly. I headed slowly towards the train. As I was
about to reach the general compartment, I saw the man in glittering black
blazers and necktie with violet and white stripes with a writing pad with the
list of reserved passengers. Just suddenly, without much preparation, I greeted
him. He reciprocated. I then told him that I did not carry an identity card but
had a confirmed ticket. He replied to me that one must carry a valid identity
card to travel with an online ticket. Though this was not a new information to
me, I just passively listened to him. He then asked what I was. I replied.
Having learnt that I was a teacher, he told me to take his seat in the
three-tier compartment. I was in utter shock. I could not believe my ears. I told him that I did not have enough money
to pay for that. He replied me that it was not needed. He then took me to the three-tier compartment and made me seated there in
his seat. Without much wait, when it was time, the train began its routine
race. I sat there not fully recovering from the shock and total disbelief.
After an hour, the Ticket Examiner came to me and allotted me a vacant seat.
My surprises were not over. He
started conversing with me. After having learnt that I neither carried supper
nor ordered for it, he ordered some parcelled supper with someone who was at a
station enroute. When we reached that station, the supper was brought in plus a
banana and bottle of water. After the
supper, he asked how I planned to return. As I had to return the very next day in
the same train when it would return, he sensed my difficulty. He then gave me his phone
number and asked me to ring him when I would reach the station. Thanking him
and thanking God, I went to sleep. The next day, I reached the station some
half an hour before the departure. After finding him sitting in one
of the concrete benches in the platform, I greeted him. Recognising me he told
that it was a rush day and there were some RAC (Reservation Against Cancellation) ticket holders. I then told him
that I could go to the general compartment. However, he turned me away from
that attempt and guided me to his seat. After forcing
me seated there, he went for his checking round. Half an hour after the departure of
the train he came back to the seat and shared with me the dinner I got packed
by one of my students. When dinner was over, he went again for his duty. A
couple of minutes later, he emerged again and took me to a vacant two-tier
seat. Surprise after surprise. I slept comfortably well. In the next
morning, I went to him and thanked him profusely. We then walked out together
towards the exit. Before parting ways, I thanked that extremely gentle human being.
Who was he? A good Samaritan? No. I was not wounded and left uncared on
the rocky and thorny road. A good man. A
great man. A noble man. Yes, all of them
put together. Someone whom we rarely see in the society. Did he break rules?
Probably, yes. But, he knew why rules were for. With his helping hand, he took the
pages of the rule book and interpreted in a humane way. He helped me from my
grief and from my brief identity crisis. He helped me to reassure the faith in
the goodness of human beings.
