Farewell Kharagpur

Bidding farewell to Shekhar was tough. I was amazed at how well we had got on with each other in such short notice. After a few final words and some promises to keep in touch (which I have not stuck to), I boarded the Howrah Mail at 11 p.m. I slept very well and woke up only at eight the next morning. I only had a second class ticket this time and I should admit that the experience was rewarding in more ways than one. This time, I was able to see things outside more clearly.
There was a Bengali family traveling in the same compartment and I was amused at the matriarchal society they had in miniature. Their son bore the brunt of the lady’s attack. What the lady said, had to be done without second thought, by the son. Even her husband was not spared. The dominance was of such magnitude that the husband and the kid had to visit the toilet or drink water, only at the lady’s will. I swear I am not exaggerating. Any gesture of disagreement and the lady would take her role as chief counselor, delivering her lectures away to glory, in one of the shrillest voices ever. The discourses were in Bengali and I could not understand a word of what was being said, but I was able to make out things from the looks of disgust that adorned the faces of the son and his father. The latter bore everything with nonchalance. Such patience was amazing. There was more evidence with regard to the ingenuity of their grievances when the faces of the man and his son lit up during the lady’s visits to the toilet.