Always

This has to be some plan and a real picture-perfect plan at that. I left work to book tickets on the train. Now, all those real enthu-cutlets out there who want to know why i had to go the railway station to book tickets when i could have booked tickets over the web:

1. Am a onlinie-transactiono-phobic
2. Did you ever ask Tolkien "why was the ring even forged in the first place" ??

I left my desk to pick my bike and voila, some symbologist had parked his bike cryptically. The front of his bike was almost locked with the silencer of mine and the back, right across the parking lot such that only nadia comancei in her prime can reach my bike's ignition.Working out gives you a false sense of confidence that you can move mountains. But the bikes these days, do they make them with some sort of adamantium alloy ?? Harder than moving that monstrosity that someone had the nerve to call a bike, was withstanding all those curiously sneaky visits from our security folks who were puzzled at a thief being so conspicous and noisier while stealing a bike. Everytime they come murmuring something into their walkie-talkies like they are going to take me down, had to stand up, turn around and show them the embroidery on my tshirt that has my company name, and they would give a broad smile as if they came there to check if i needed a drink. Some sighs and lots of high-squeaked grunts later, got my bike out and left.

After a failed collision attempt with a toyota qualis, i reached the station. Someone should have spread out a rumour saying they are distributing rasagollas with tickets. There cannot be any other logical reason behind that mad crowd in the station at that time of the day, this time of the year. Ran into a slightly older localite who was very possessive about the ticket counter. "you werent in the queue".
"Yes ma'am", i wasnt .. i came to.. "
"I'm telling you, you werent in the queue". Didnt she hear what i said, or is she simply trying to emphasize how right she was to fellow middle-aged men ??
"Yes, am just trying to .."
"You have to come in a queue"
"But am only trying to pick a reservation form"
Embarassed silence for a few seconds followed by this: "youngsters these days have absolutely no sense or respect for elders". Mental Note: Next time around carry a nice, polished, hattori hanzo samurai sword, just in case.

Out of all the 9 ticket counters, i find one. The next counter looked enticingly lesser-sized and i moved in just at the right moment to nudge out another chap who wanted the place. He should have a liking for white doves i suppose, he just accepted his fate and stood behind me. Our counter moved quick enough than most other, until a monster, who was holding only one form till then, picked up a bunch from inside his folder. Before anyone could say anything, he threw the whole lot into the counter. The clerk looked ahead just to make sure he received it from one guy and not from the entire queue in one go. The clerk cursed his fate and started typing and stopped.
"Train Number ??" he asked.
"Ooo .. Sorry .. What is the name of the train that goes to howrah .. some express it is".
"Howrah express"
"Ooo .. Sorry .. I forgot". Someone should recommend him for the next "Brittania - Monster Genius".
The clerk started again and stopped.
"Which class??"
"Oooo .. Sorry .. I forgot .. Second class".
The rest of the queue was happy he didnt say something to the likes of "First Class with Distinction".
Clerk started and, as we all guessed, stopped.
"Your address"
"Why??", pat comes the answer.
The collective groan of the queue probably sounded like the death knell and he started writing the address in not one, not two, not even three, but four darned forms.
"RAC 25" says the clerk.
"Will it move ??" asks Monster-man. The last time i looked, the clerk didnt have a parrot to pick out chits, nor did he have a magnifying glass. For chrissake, he is a clerk, not a clairvoyant. The clerk looked up, gave a resigned look and gave a non-committal "maybe".
Our man started "what about the other train ??". I thought i heard a few in my queue drop dead.
The clerk replied "There are no other trains". No one knows if he simply lied to get MM out of his view, but we all appreciated it. Monster-man gave up saying "Its okay".
"4420 Rs" (or some such) says the clerk.
Our man opens his purse, and one look into it, the lebanese finance minister would've let a sigh of despair considering his limited annual budget. Takes out a wad of beans and throws it the clerk. Whoever groaned mildly before, took a step back and kept safe distance. The inch-thick chain and that vadakayiru ("rope that pulls juggernauts") bracelet started to give a strange feeling and everyone unanimously decided that they did not need it clarified.

With all this happening, i take a look at the other queue where i was originally standing, and the nudged-out chap was collecting his change to leave. While i was busy minding someone else's business our peace-loving white-dove just moved to the next queue and got his tickets. If a crooked leer can be called a smile, yes, he smiled at me. But it was more like a taunt. Thankfully i hadn't lost my parking ticket, which is actually my speciality. Some saving grace.

By the time i reached work, I was fuming so much that you could light a few city blocks.Cursing the species as a whole, as i entered workplace, i noticed the big conference room was full, jam packed, the screen changing between pie-charts and manhattans in varied colors and someone reading an annual report. Yeah, as in most meetings, tears in every engineer's eye, smiles from ear-ear on management folks' faces. As I walked across them, with the smile of a holocaust survivor, wistful faces turned and fogged the windows with sighs.

Strangely, i felt lucky. Monster Man, Local Lady and Psychotic Symbologist, __Anything__ should be positively better than __that meeting__. Maybe there is still hope, heck, there is __always__ hope :-).