The Mystic India (2010): Train Journey After a Long Haul

As the train left the station; the vacation begins. I must admit the Indian Railways has improved over the years and strangely, it was found to be cleaner, punctual, and hygienical. My first destination is to Puri – the Abode to Juggernaut. (Yea, I’m goin’ to pilgrimage.) 

But this blog is not about my journey but written to sing the glory of Indian Vanessa Carlton (aka) – or Indian Railways, the underrate source to travel when you plan through India. With me, the compartment is filled with all wakes of life – age, sex, physical or mental attributes no bar and it makes a good combination.

• Mid-aged motherly figurines showing some serious underbelly cleavages catching up domestic rigors with their extra-loose men under-roos. The women serves the food, cleans the plates but need men to put the ‘bunk beds’ or escort them to toilet. (Gals, you’re not gonna’ have sex there.)
• A poker-face bespectacled ‘Bong communist’ with Fuzzy Muff below his unshapely nostrils lectured his son on every odd moral and societal living. Eh! Over the minute, he keep repeating himself again…and over again…uff! (From experience, I vouch all Bong fathers are Repeatus Everythingus and thankfully, I’m virgin. :P)
• A ruggie from rustic West rawring on his clients over the payment so forcefully they need stitches to seall their arselips. Gawd, will this guy ever stop doin’ it verbally and turn to real action. (It will be a sight to see ;)
• Three men on the adjacent bunk are so freakin’ gizmorgasmic that their moangasm make me nuts.
• A short little family from their 15-day vacation to South was quieter and nostalgic. The man of the family bought every odd thing to eat and the woman munches them in slow motion. The women is too frail and I thought she got no-food ever in life.

I looked through the glassed window, the wheels crushin’ over the iron rails runs through the scruffy flaccid land to the coastal belt; the landscape filled with small hillocks and thick vegetation outstretched. Curvaceous rivers and their sisters have whore it up with their glide while I enjoy sippin’ my hot cup-a-chai. 

O! I must mention about the vendors on-the station, on-board, beside-your-seat: they’re everywhere but re-fabricated unlike the older times when they’re haggling and annoying: in fact, I missed their uncouthness. And, these paper cups are NOT what I expected…could anybody please give me the mud-pots that crackles when you drop them on the rails. (Stop cribbin’ bitch.)

Nevertheless, I got more train journeys to add. Hope to be compensated.