It was the final leg of a rather monotonous journey aboard India’s fastest train, the Shatabdi Express. At 130kph (4 times less than the fastest, TGV), India’s pride can be categorized as the West’s humor rather than envy. But the four extra hours of transit provides ample time for on-board stories to materialize.
An elderly man was fast asleep on his wasted window seat, after peering through his Times of India, my Hindustan Times and running his business ex-situ. The seat ahead was home, today, to a little 2-3 year old kid under the vigilance of his mother and young uncle. Analogous to the journey of life, the young one stayed put on his mom’s lap till soon after the departure. His uncle was as far as he went one hour down the line. Three hours later at Aligarh, he had broken the shackles of parental guidance and was on his feet, which were firmly placed on the hand-rest. Blessed by his mother, the sky was the limit for him as he reached out to touch new heights. Of course, he only managed to touch the button to the reading light and resolved to make it a routine. After being reprimanded he resorted to his next energy-dissipation method- Crying. No sooner than the young rapscallion had blown the bogie’s roof off, he was taken for a mini-walk up and down the aisle (of the train). Midway through the journey, he went back on to his mother’s lap only to realize that it was time he needed his space; he needed independence.
So, his uncle volunteered out of the window seat making him the owner of that estate. While enjoying and exploring his newly acquired property he popped up from the backrest to face the old man next to me. He carefully observed him sleep but learned nothing about the art of peace and sanity. The old man woke up soon and seemed pleased to see the kid gawking at him and stalking every move he made. Apparently touched, he retracted his arm and inserted it into his pocket, longing to reach for something. And out came the toffee, leftover from the classy IRCTC breakfast. His arm, with the unwrapped toffee clenched in his fingers moved up against gravity. But it took a negative trajectory thereafter, curving towards his mouth rather than the kid’s. Within seconds, the little brown spheroid had already been sucked in, masticated and gulped upon. The little ‘un was visibly shaken but did well to keep his emotions within. He hung in there, ensuring no eye contact whatsoever with the old ‘un. After a quarter of an hour, the man’s arms were in action again, with what seemed to be heading towards a repeated sequence. And it was! The second and last toffee also defied the kids yearning mouth and was assimilated right before his eyes. He was well within his rights to consume the fruits of his expenditure, but was against morality to literally mock the little star on the earth.
The kid may have been restless and may have shed a few tears earlier, but he subsequently presented a rather stoic demeanor. He put his head down and went about his research, by touching, feeling, twisting and even licking the unhygienic sample space. He soon discovered the knob which opened the foldable tray. ‘Twist’ was the action which reaped success for him after a failed touch and push- and down went the plastic tray, in conformation with gravity. Nature is indeed full of random processes, but it has to be sheer bad luck if all the unfavorable odds conspire against you. Well, the old man was bestowed with a dysfunctional tray which descended lower than normal and to top it up, also had a higher than usual lap-level, with the extra few centimeters being added by adipose. So the tray landed right where it shouldn’t have. This time it was the old man who was visibly shaken and had no choice but to contain his emotions within. He could not shed his tears but soon had some other shedding to do. Backed by randomness, the kid had inadvertently gotten his vengeance; Newton’s third law was hence satisfied.
