Surviving the Indian Railway: Berth Control by Adjustment

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In these asocial, disconnected and cynical times, when people don’t meet but tweet and when you determine your popularity by counting how many people have clicked ‘like’ on your latest Facebook post of the sun rising over the orange clothesline on your balcony whereupon hang your frayed and faded grey underwear, it is important to appreciate the value of environments that facilitate personal, meaningful, two-way interactions with fellow humans —even if they are complete strangers.

And no-one’s better than the Indian Railways in providing such an environment.

We appreciated this on a recent overnight train journey from Delhi, the City of Kinks, to Udaipur, the City of Kings. We reached Old Delhi station with minutes to spare, charged madly towards the platform where the Mewar Express awaited us, and found our AC 2-tier coach. There were five of us: we had booked five berths en bloc (numbers 9 to 13 in coach no. HA1), and naturally expected to get our five berths together— four in a four-berth bay and one berth in the aisle alongside.

But we had not taken into account the Indian Railways’ genius in promoting unity in diversity, irrespective of class or berth. We discovered that with its typically unfathomable logic, the Railways had allotted us two berths in one bay, two berths in the aisle alongside and a solitary berth in the next bay. Stranger still, one of the two strangers in ‘our’ bay declared that he too was in fact member of a party of five; three of his four companions had been allotted berths in the next bay, and the fourth in the next-to-next bay. Investigations and inquiries at the next-to-next bay revealed that the three remaining travellers in it were in fact members of a party of six, of whom two had been allotted berths in the next-to- next-to-next bay, while the remaining one …well, you get the general picture.

Naturally, even before the train chugged past the outskirts of Delhi, the coach resounded with general bays of protest in three-language formula over the chaotic allocations of bays and berths. Indeed, the entire coach was as unhappy with the random allocation of berths as politicians over allocation of ministerial berths. But then, just when it seemed as though the inhabitants of the coach would descend into pitched battle, one sharp word rose above the din; a word deeply beloved and precious to all travellers on the Indian Railways, a word that carried all the majestic power and resonance of the sacred syllable ‘Aum’ of the ancient Hindus. The word was ‘Adjust’. The cry was taken up one after the other by the travellers in the coach, and soon all five of us too were raising our fists and faces and yelling the wondrous three-syllable word: “Adjust! Let us adjust! Hum adjust karenge!”

At this point, the sharp and discerning English teacher may point out that ‘adjust’ is a two-syllable word, not three-syllable. To her or him we triumphantly retort: “Not on the Indian Railways, it isn’t!” Indeed, the correct pronunciation of the word ‘adjust’, on the Indian Railways, is ‘ad-aj-just’ with the ‘just’ part rhyming with ‘past’. This musical enunciation, in teen taal, has been perfected by Indian Railway travellers over centuries – perhaps even thousands of years, if one goes by recent unconfirmed evidence submitted by a group of learned Vishwa Hindu Parishad scholars that scientists in Lord Rama’s kingdom had laid down the Grand Trunk Railroad embankment to transport His army from the northern territories to the southern coast whence, after a pause to adjust allies and submarine geology, he sallied (if not sailed) forth to Sri Lanka to rescue his consort, the lovely Sita, from the clutches of…well, we’ll leave that narrative for another time.

The point is, ‘adjust’ is an all-embracing term that describes a multitude of actions which fellow-travellers on the Indian Railway will urge you to take in a spirit of mutual accommodation and peaceful coexistence. These include: allowing a fellow traveller to place one or more large and heavy pieces of luggage on your berth (or sometimes on top of your reclining form); exchanging your lower berth for an upper berth; exchanging your window seat for an aisle seat; graciously permitting a family of six wait-listed travellers to sleep on your berth, three by three, while you stretch your legs by walking up and down the aisle or get some fresh air by standing at an open door near the lavatory; and so on. “I am simply requesting you to adjust, saar. You please be sleeping comfortably, no problem, saar, my grandparents and I and my wife and three children will simply sit in this corner of your berth, we can adjust, saar!”

Enthused by the spirit of mutually beneficial adjustment that filled the coach like the heady scent of phenyl from the washrooms, Foivos, our friend from Greece, suggested to the strangers in our midst that we adjust by exchanging berths here and there. The stranger in the upper berth gladly exchanged his berth for our upper berth on the aisle; but the stranger in the lower berth showed the tenacity of a bulldog in his refusal to move an inch.

But Foivos was patient. “We can ad-a-just, sir,” explained Foivos, smiling buoyantly like Archimedes must have smiled upon discovering the principle of buoyancy. “Our lower berth in the next bay is as comfortable as this one, on which you sit. You can shift there, and then be with all your friends in the next bay, and the five of us can be together here.”

Alas, the stranger would have none of it. He was a middle-aged gentleman clad in an extremely expensive suit, the effect of which was somewhat marred by a pair of jogging shoes of hideous hue. He sat like a maharaja on the lower berth opposite, holding upright, like a scepter, a black golf bag. He narrowed his eyes, frowned at Foivos, darted suspicious glances at the rest of us and then shook his head. “No. No! Certainly not!” he stuttered. “I have a reservation, why should I move from here?”

Foivos frowned; now he looked like Archimedes might have looked at a press conference where some upstart journalist had dared question the efficacy of his recently invented weapon, Archimedes’ Fire. But he was patient. “It is, I think, a very good idea for you to move into the next bay, sir,” he explained earnestly. “It is only a few feet away; you will be with your companions; you can sleep quite comfortably, the lower berth there is the same as this one…”

“’I’m not going to move, I tell you!” broke in the maharaja. “Why don’t you ask someone else to move?” He brightened as a sudden idea struck him. “Why don’t the five of you move to the next bay so that my friends there can move here?”

Foivos’ frown now deepened to a scowl. Thus might Poseidon have scowled as he prepared to release the Kraken to devastate the kingdom of his enemy. But his voice was still polite and gentle. “Because, sir, it is easier for one person to move than it is for five persons to move,” he said, speaking each word slowly and clearly as would a mother reasoning with a beloved but slightly imbecile child. “And please don’t worry about your bag, sir, I will help you move it because I can see you are a little old and frail.” At this, the maharaja started violently and gave Foivos a hard look, but Foivos continued in calm voice and manner: “See, sir, I will show you how simple it is.” He produced a diary and pen and proceeded to sketch a general layout of coach HA1 showing the different bays and aisle-side berths and the distribution of groups of travellers in each section. As he sketched, a small crowd of interested travellers with a shared keenness to adjust gathered around him.

Foivos glanced up at the maharaja. “As you can see, sir,” he said, holding up the sketch for everyone’s benefit and education, “if you shift from here to the next bay, and these two persons shift from the next bay to the bay after that, and the lone person in the last bay shifts here…” With arrows and curved lines on the sketch that bore strange resemblance to the well-known Feynman diagrams showing interactions of sub-atomic particles, Foivos illustrated how a few simple inter-berth shifts by a few travellers, starting with the maharaja, would cause no-one any inconvenience but instead help establish togetherness, camaraderie and goodwill among the entire community as envisaged by India’s illustrious forefathers and foremothers.

The crowd cheered when Foivos finished, and about 29 pairs of eyes gazed expectantly at the maharaja. Bowing to public opinion, the maharaja rose to his feet, muttering ancient imprecations. “I’ll help you with your luggage, sir,” cried Foivos gallantly as he jumped up and reached for what he assumed was the black strap of the maharaja’s black golf bag.

“No, no, nooo!” protested the maharaja, trying to fend off Foivos’ hand, but to no avail. Foivos grabbed the black strap and tugged. The maharajah gave a little yelp and clutched his waist….even as Foivos realized that the black strap he held in his hands was in fact a black belt that had, till recently, held the maharaja’s trousers up securely against the force of gravity.

A silent, spellbound moment passed, during which the crowd held its breath and the maharaja held his trousers.

“Um…ah…sorry, sir,” murmured Foivos sheepishly, breaking the spell. The maharaja snatched the belt back, adjusted his trousers and his composure, rose, picked up his golf bag and swept off into the next bay without a word.

“Thank you for adjusting, sir,” Foivos called.

The crowd cheered again, rattling the windows, and the rest of the journey passed in the warm glow of contentment that can only be brought about by mutually satisfactory adjustment.

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Photos

Adjust... and journey happily

Comments

[Venky]

Berth control by adjustment
Brilliant. Especially appeals to me as an ex Railwayman, who has himself been through these situations, believe it or not! And , after retirement, I face the unpleasant prospect of getting only the "side berth" whenever I venture to travel. My non Railway friends call it poetic justice! But getting back to the hilarious article which is enlightening as it entertains, I enjoyed the portrayal of the stubborn old man who finally relents to adjust- both his berth and his trousers! I hope the distinguished author will keep the Railway stories coming! They educate, entertain and , what is to me important turn anger into the sublime "swalpa adjust maradi!" Attitude which has saved many a riot!