BCCI officials ask - What Recession ?

The scene was one we pass off with a ‘nothing in particular attitude’. But a late train and ennui in general, induced a not too casual perusal of the station premises. A group of filthy smelling urchins had crowded around the edge of the platform and were looking with immense glee skywards. A ball of thread in the hands of two of them explained the laughter and the enthusiasm. There were two distant spots in the horizon, which move in random abandon. The dialect was an incomprehensible nasal tone punctuated with the shrill of whistles. But the exuberance and the joy of the toddlers were evident. At least someone was not bothered about the late running trains and the herd of flies, which seemed to be everywhere.

The sun set and the group dispersed in parts. There came in the lights and another bunch of ‘enlightened’ mosquitoes. A chaiwallah with a soiled or perhaps rusted kettle came along. A cup of tea as a companion didn’t seem to be a bad proposition. Ignoring the package, I audaciously asked for a cup. The tea was not bad at all. “ What time is it, babuji?” enquired the host dressed in tatters. On hearing the time, the chaiwallah hurried along with an urgency our trains seemed to have forgotten.

A voice from nowhere announced that ‘my train’ was indefinitely late. No apologies, only a silent mockery of the passengers, who had by now unpacked on the floor of the railway station and were settling down to their rigmarole. There seemed to be no panic and the quietude was alarming.

After an unsuccessful bout with the hordes of mosquitoes, I got up to stretch a little. The ambience was one of calm. The officer at the enquiry had removed his shirt and was scratching his armpits. There was a leaking faucet under a banner ‘Drinking Water ’ and a seemingly fleas stricken dog was lapping at the puddle formed below. A group of ladies were fanning themselves with their sari ends and seemed to have a lively discussion on. There was a cow defecating at the edge of the platform caring a damn about the trains, the passengers or the station.

“Saabji, latest evening newspaper”, I looked behind to see one of those urchins, now with a bundle of paper under his arms. “Cricket officials ask – What recession?” reported the boy with the authority of those roadside ‘cure all medicine’ salesmen. I shelled out the barter and picked up a newspaper. There was an air of importance around the boy similar the midwife who reaches the king to tell him about the birth of a new baby boy.

The IPL auction was all over the pages. Flintoff and Peitersen posted astronomical amounts under the auction hammer bettering the record our desi Dhoni. In these times of recession, a Bangladeshi player got the price of lifetime and now is the richest sportsman in his country. Preity, Juhi, Nina and now Shilpa Shetty made the proceedings much more glamorous and there was confetti and celebrations everywhere. India, it seems, will now be revered as a force to reckon with.

What an exhilarating moment! I should share the news with the others, I thought. The urchins will be delighted to hear that now Indians can feel rich. The chaiwallah, I’m sure will distribute free tea on this auspicious occasion. The officer will for once perhaps wear his shirt to ‘dress’ for the occasion. The ladies can sing some patriotic songs to illuminate the event. The cow will of course smile bovinely and shit in ‘peace’. As for me I decided to put the entire issue of late trains behind me; after all how can one crib about a few late trains when the country is busy beating recession on the cricket field!