Cruel December and Kind People

While waiting for Lal Quilla Express, which was running late by five hours, at Patna Railway Station in biting cold, it dawned on me that December had been unkind to me most of the times when I made a travel in the month.
On December 17, we checked out of the hotel, visited a few historical places in Patna and came to the airport to catch our flight at 12.20 PM. But after one and half hours waiting in the airport, it was declared our flights had been cancelled.
With much difficulty we were fortunate enough to arrange two tickets in the ordinary sleeper class. Santosh Sinha, the officer of Bihar Commercial Tax Department arranged the tickets using his connections. The scheduled time of arrival of the train at Patna was 7.35 PM, but it reached the station at 12.45 AM i.e. exactly by 5 hours and 10 minutes late. The temperature at Patna on that day was below 6 degree Celsius. That day and also the day before, there was thick fog and the sun was not visible. We were not mentally and physically prepared to travel by second class sleeper. To protect myself from cold I purchased a khadi chadar. I had telephoned a friend of Kolkata to book tickets in Coromandal Express to come from Howarha to Cuttack. He booked two wait-listed tickets, which could not be confirmed.
Three stations behind Kolkata we found the way the train was running late we could not reach on time at Howarha to catch Coromandal, scheduled to depart at 2.50 PM. We got down and rushed to Howarha by a taxi and just reached a few minutes earlier to catch Coromandal. We travelled six hours sitting, sharing the seats with our noble co-passengers by their mercy and goodness.
I have caught cold, glands of my neck have inflamed and I am still suffering, not fully recovered till the time of writing this blog.

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In 1982, I was travelling in the month of December by Neelachal Express from Delhi to Bhubaneswar. I was a student. I had one blanket, one bed spread and, perhaps, the arrogance of youth to brave the winter.
My co-passengers were a Sikh family. They were eight, but they had six confirmed berths. They were going to Howarha to attend a marriage of a relation. The family included a grown up daughter, perhaps studying in a college. I had noticed her reading an English novel during the day sitting on the side seat.
In the evening they took their dinner they had brought with them, spread their bed on the floor of the compartment and two of them slept on the floor. Others slept on the berths. They prepared the bed in such a way as if they were at home, and in fact, they created a home like condition in the running train.
I slept on the side lower berth allotted to me.
In the night, at around 1 AM I woke up trembling. The train was running at its highest speed in Bihar region. The cold was unbearable, my teeth were clattering. The blanket and the bed spread were no help against the severe cold. Since I had the lower side berth, cold wind coming through the gap of the window was also hitting my body. I desperately wanted a cup of hot tea, but at that hour, it was just impossible to get. I thought I might collapse, die of cold.
The college going girl noticed my plight. She woke up an old man, perhaps her grandfather, travelling with them, and told something. The old sardarji lent me a quilt and told me to spread the blanket and the bed spread on the berth and sleep wrapping up the body with the quilt. I did as he instructed and could sleep a few hours in the night.

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In December, 2010, I had been to New Delhi for training on GST. Every day in the morning I used to take tea with Pradeep, who had also gone for the same training, in his room. The training was over on Friday. Our flight was on Saturday in the evening. We were in a relaxed mood. As usual on Saturday in the morning I took tea with him and stood up to come to my room. Suddenly I felt head reeling, everything looked black, and to save myself from falling down, I rested my right hand on the wall. But my hand hit the glass painting fixed to the wall. It broke, the glass pieces fell one by one on my hand. I had a deep cut on the back of my palm, which bled profusely. Pradeep took me immediately to Safdarjang Hospital and I had as many as thirteen stiches on my palm in that chilly December morning.
The wound took more than a month to heal, the scar remains.

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In 2000, in the month of December I had been to Bangalore for training on VAT organised by NIPFP in collaboration with Karnatak Commercial Tax Department. I had booked tickets a fortnight in advance. I had confirmed tickets to go to Bangalore, but my tickets were wait-listed for my return journey from Chennai to Cuttack. I thought the tickets would be confirmed within twenty days by the time I would return after the training was over. I enjoyed the training with the officers of other states. In the afternoon every day we went for sight-seeing in a vehicle provided by the CTD, Karnatak.
My travails began when I started for my return journey. I sat on the seat allotted to me in Brundaban Express that came from Bangalore to Chennai. A person came and claimed that that seat was also allotted to him. He also produced the ticket issued to him bearing the same number of the seat . However, the Train Ticket Inspector (TTI) intervened and prevailed upon him not to insist for the seat I was occupying as it was a mistake committed by the Railway Authorities in allotting the same seat to two persons. He promised him that he would arrange another seat for him, but he failed as there was no vacancy. The other person was gentle enough not to demand the seat and travelled standing the whole six hours.
My wait-listed ticket booked from Chennai to Cuttack could not be confirmed. The journey from Chennai to Cuttack was more than thirty hours. I saw no way to get the ticket confirmed, and it was also too difficult to travel thirty hours in general compartment without a reserved berth. I got panicky. I approached a police officer sitting in a cabin in the platform with a board ‘May I help you?’ I said to him. “I am a government officer. Had come for a training. Have already stayed a week and my wallet is almost empty. I cannot stay a night at Chennai nor also do I have a certainty that I would get a confirmed ticket tomorrow. Could you help in any way?”
He looked at me, from my head to toes, thought for some moments, and indicating a person said, “Go and tell your problem to that person and say, I have sent you.”
I went to the person he indicated and told him what he had told me to tell. That person, indicating a compartment, said, “Go to that compartment, sit there and tell the TTI that I have sent you.”
I went to the compartment and sat on a seat. The train started and took speed. After about half an hour a TTI came. I told hm. He did not enquire, allotted me a berth. I heaved a sigh of relief.
I did not know their arrangement, how they passed on information . They also did not charge any extra fee (i.e. any bribe).

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I have similar experiences in the months of December of some other years. What is the moral? Should I avoid any travel in the month of December in future?
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