Now begins our nightly drama. Most women scrambling in don’t have first class tickets. Those who do have legit tickets are forced to stand, even at that late hour. They get cranky. They get resentful. They get ugly.
They assess each other’s clothes, bags, burqas, kids. They sniff, and say things like: “These women, they just get in, don’t they? How many do you think have a valid pass? But here they are! And we’re such idiots. Paying extra money to travel in comfort. But what for? We stand and they sit.”
They do sit, rather shamefacedly, afraid of being exposed. Some are so embarrassed that they stand near the door, faces averted. Some brazen it out. They say things like: “We have valid passes, okay? Who are you to ask us for tickets?” Or, “Well, the ladies became the gents so what do you expect? It is the railways’ fault.” Or, “We aren’t regular commuters. It was a family outing, and with the kids...you are also a woman. You should understand.” Or, “Shut up, b***ch.”
This can lead to either an all-out slanging match, or a shrug and a remark directed at another first-class passenger: “These second class people… no point talking to them. No manners.”
The scary thing is that everyone seems to have a ‘class’ radar whereby they can identify first or second class passengers. In case someone gets it wrong, there is an outraged splutter. First class passengers offer proof, angry at being mistaken for ‘them’. Their eyes seem to be asking: “Why? Do I look like I’m second class?”
On the other hand, there’s the silent outrage of ‘second class’ passengers. I remember two incidents of loud ‘class’ confrontations clearly. One woman had shouted: “Be grateful for us. If we weren’t here, robbers would enter this precious coach and all you first class people would get mugged.” Another night, another woman had snapped: “Are the seats made of gold in this coach?”
They aren’t. The seats are cushioned though. For first class bums, I suppose.
They assess each other’s clothes, bags, burqas, kids. They sniff, and say things like: “These women, they just get in, don’t they? How many do you think have a valid pass? But here they are! And we’re such idiots. Paying extra money to travel in comfort. But what for? We stand and they sit.”
They do sit, rather shamefacedly, afraid of being exposed. Some are so embarrassed that they stand near the door, faces averted. Some brazen it out. They say things like: “We have valid passes, okay? Who are you to ask us for tickets?” Or, “Well, the ladies became the gents so what do you expect? It is the railways’ fault.” Or, “We aren’t regular commuters. It was a family outing, and with the kids...you are also a woman. You should understand.” Or, “Shut up, b***ch.”
This can lead to either an all-out slanging match, or a shrug and a remark directed at another first-class passenger: “These second class people… no point talking to them. No manners.”
The scary thing is that everyone seems to have a ‘class’ radar whereby they can identify first or second class passengers. In case someone gets it wrong, there is an outraged splutter. First class passengers offer proof, angry at being mistaken for ‘them’. Their eyes seem to be asking: “Why? Do I look like I’m second class?”
On the other hand, there’s the silent outrage of ‘second class’ passengers. I remember two incidents of loud ‘class’ confrontations clearly. One woman had shouted: “Be grateful for us. If we weren’t here, robbers would enter this precious coach and all you first class people would get mugged.” Another night, another woman had snapped: “Are the seats made of gold in this coach?”
They aren’t. The seats are cushioned though. For first class bums, I suppose.
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1 comment:
m waiting for Mumbai metro too :)
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