So, Sambo and I plotted and planned on a Himalayan holiday. But both of us have the distinction of being lazy as well as quite poverty stricken, so we sat at the Jamir Lane Tea Stall in October and wondered some more.
But finally, Sambo declared : "Rinnie D- We shall go". And in a rare case of co-ordinated enthusiasm, I responded "Sambo, we shall".
Returning to Delhi, me, being the opportunist holidaymaker, I popped into the HPTDC office at the ground floor of the same building that housed the haloed organization I work for. After ho-humming for a while and collecting an abundance of pamphlets of every hue and colour, I called Sambo.
What followed was a bizarre turn of events, marked by multiple excel sheets, and group member lists. The list burgeoned to 10 people at one point of time and looked large enough to warrant the issuing of a warning by HPTDC regarding the visit of hooligans. However, given the propensity of the people to drop out as evidenced by earlier trips, we decided to book 2 rooms only with keeping the provision of booking more as and when required. It was decided that I would go with a group of friends for the trip and Sambo could join in if he arrived. One must not forget that Sambo is a Sengupta too. And a Sengupta is an essentially lazy individual and has a glowing track record of not turning up where s/he is scheduled to appear. Hence, the discussion on cancellation of the rooms was much in detail than that of actually reaching the place.
Of the final list of people who were to come along, the list got split into multiple sections : Those who would go via Delhi; Those who would join mid trip; Those who may or may not join; Those who were still wondering. The ratio of those still wondering was higher than the rest. Finally, it boiled down to 3 of us who would go via Delhi- Sambo, me and Mithun with the chances of a motley group joining mid way.
DD Genji O Jangiya: Chokh Bondho Kore Bhorsha Kora Jay
Post booking of accommodation, Sambo and Mithun woke up to the fact that they did not have wings. The matter was depressing enough for them to procastrinate regarding undertaking of travel bookings to the extent that Dinesh Dhameja entered the Picture.
DD is of the breed known as "Government Authorized Travel Agents". DD is also a "Delhi Boy" and enjoys his Alcohol as much as the Bengali Boy enjoys his cigarette. DD also believes that he should call his client at 11pm in the night and tell them "Jo bhi kar raha hoon, aap hi ke liye kar raha hoon".
All said and done, DD was roped in to book the tickets.
DD and I thus began our tryst with the destiny of obtaining tatkal tickets for Mithun and Sambo. My Delhi buddies stood back watching the drama unfold "Tch Tch" ing over DDz Delhiness. Mihir obtained immense pleasure rocking on his heels while DD issued one supposedly innocuous statement after another.
On the day of boarding the train, both Sambo and Mithun were on waitlisted tickets, dangling their legs at the respective platforms. DD was drinking out of several bottles and calling every 10 minutes to assure "Ho jayega madam. Waise priority ticket kaunsi hai?" No point explaining to DD that all tickets booked on tatkal are priority tickets. Patience, my friend is the only way to survive around DD.
Meanwhile, DDs car got pulled aside by Delhi Police as his car is what Mihir calls "The Rapemobile"...i.e. a vehicle with tinted windows and dhik chyak dhik chyak disco lights. DD hence delayed handing over the tickets even further. The next day, along with driking out of several bottles and alternatively dialing my number (which is perhaps by now on speed dial), DD also managed to confirm 5 minutes before the making of the chart, Sambo'z ticket. Mithun however, was ticketless. Now DD set out to woo Mithun.
Delhi Boy & Bengali Boy: "RapeMobile" Daru Included!
What we now witnessed was a case of interesting romance between the Delhi Boy and the Bengali Boy. Delhi Boy called Bengali Boy and after apologizing sincerely promised to arrange for a flight ticket and pick up from airport. Bengali Boy, touched by such kind attention agreed whole heartedly. Mihir, Nithin and I headbanged to the romantic ditty while the setting was agreed and settled upon.
At 11pm that night, DD called woefully pointing out that the flight is delayed and "Madam aap hi ke liye kar rahe hai jo bhi kar rahe hai. sirf aapke liye. aap toh jantei ho na". I nodded and hung up.
Delhi boy will remain Delhi Boy. And Bengali Boy will remain Bengali Boy. Note to Self: Never expect Bengali Boy to realize how vulnerable a position he is putting you in. He will grumble, comment, pass judgments regarding everything that is safe and blindly walk you into the storm he is supposed to protect you from. So Bengali Boy and Delhi Boy met at the airport and drove back together. Mihir had been entrusted with the responsibility of calling Mithun once in a while to check whether Mithun remained safe and "untouched" and executed it with elan.
Over the next 2 hours, their romance continued as DD refilled himself at Daru ke thekka and downloaded liquid accumulated while explaining to Bengali Boy how much "Didi" meant to him. Bengali Boy finally got out of the vehicle and escaped, bag and baggage in hand.
Meanwhile, the fuse at Mihirs' apartment blew and Mihir attempted to warm himself by candlelight.
Sambo ARRIVES
In a few hours, it was time for Samboz arrival. Sambo arrived at New Delhi Railway Station and the Delhi Police welcomed him with Rs. 200 Challan for smoking. Sambo then had an in depth discourse with the policemen regarding smoking and challans.
We were back at the apartment and Mihir arrived dressed in layers of differentially sized clothing. It was time for the one-by-one bathing sequence which ended at 5:00pm with a fair amount of discussion on eyebrows, the bottom, DD, challan and Delhi Police. Sambo was yet to recover from the discovery of a place where smoking was banned. After filling our hipflasks with brandy, Mihir offered to drive us to the metro station, food en route.
Needless to say, a return ticket oriented discussion between Delhi Boy & Bengali Boy took place following which we are proud to note that besides our parents and our office colleagues we now have another individual deeply interested in our lives- DD, DD, DD!!!
After much traffic and snarling empty stomachs, we reached the metro station and bid Mihir goodbye who was headed towards a warm Christmas at Goa and hopped into the metro to reach ISBT, Kashmiri Gate.
The guy at the counter at ISBT suggested we come back later for the tickets as the bus was scheduled later. Having a hearty dinner, we returned only to find out that it would not be possible to board the bus. After weighing several alternatives, we decided to take an extremely interesting bus to Pathankot.
The journey is another story!
