I have mentioned several times my inability to resist a complete-the-story contest. That is about the only weakness I have. That, and a tendancy for megalomania :-).

Our office paper TINAMITE had a complete the story contest long ago. I participated. Didn't win. But what the heck! Here's my entry.

The **** indicate where the 'given' half ended and mine began. I have made a couple of small modifications to my original entry.


Writing about one's experiences is never easy. The text gets
inextricably woven with the writer's passions and prejudices, making
an objective rendering impossible. However, it is for this very reason
that I am writing this travelogue - for, the only way this account can
seem superlative is when seen through my own eyes. So tighten your
seat belts, and travel with me down memory lane through the Udyan
Express on the 3rd of August, 2002.

Allow me to digress a little bit by sharing some of my thoughts before
the journey. (You were just getting ready to see through my eyes, and
now you are being asked to think through my mind as well!) This
digression has a supreme significance, as you will realize later. I
always make it a point to travel second class while traveling to
Bombay and back. There are some compelling reasons for this, though
people (especially my roommates!) may think otherwise. The first is
that I find traveling by plane expensive (actually the real reason is
that, post 9/11, I am afraid of scraping past sky-scrapers!) The
second reason is that, traveling by train in the third AC compartment
allows me to be conveniently cut-off from the outside world full of
sights and sounds (especially in the Lonavala - Khandala range)
something which I particularly detest. And lastly - the most powerful
reason - but you will have to abandon all reasoning and simply accept
my word for it - is that I seriously feel that there is a very very
good chance that you might find your life partner in the course of the
twenty-four-hour-long journey. This last reason is not particularly
attested to by my roommates, who think it highly improbable (and as
one vocabulary - aficionado - friend of mine pointed out, CHIMERICAL!)

Anyways, with my three wonderful reasons strongly implanted at the
back of my mind, I set out for the journey from my home. I had already
utilized two weeks out of my three-week-long vacation at my Bangalore
home fruitfully, doing nothing at all; and was determined to make the
utmost use of the remaining one week in Bombay as well. I had informed
only my sister that I would be coming to Bombay, and intended it to be
a surprise for my parents. (That she had already spilled the beans is
another matter!) My roommate accompanied me to the auto, all along
reminding me, 'Don't forget to learn cooking this time.' Then, with a
final pat on the back, he bid me a happy and 'eventful' journey. a
His words came true.

****

In a way, atleast.

I missed the train.

Of thought that is.

The other train? No! It had not even turned in when I reached the
station. I would have enough time to buy and eat a hearty lunch, buy a
magazine, look around, read the magazine and give alms to a dozen
beggars before it arrived. No sir, I did not miss that train. Only
the train of thought. Serious!

So what was this train of thought that I missed ?

OKay! I was thinking of buying and eating a hearty lunch, buying a
magazine, looking around, reading the magazine, giving alms to a dozen
beggars and still having time before the train arrived. That was the
train of thought that was interrupted. Serious!

And what was that which interrupted my train of thought?

Hmm...tough one...

It was HER! She, the doe-eyed, the golden-maned, the
body-bent-by-heavy-bs-ed, the pearly (and maybe sharp!)-toothed, the
shiny-black-nosed, the small-pink-tongued, the wagging-tailed. Yes a
yellow Pomerian she-dog pulled the chain on my train of
thought. Really, she did! Hey, sorry for the cliche pal.

And then, let's say, I saw HIM. ('HIM' is in caps only for emphasis,
nothing to do with GOD). He was the largest man I had ever seen in my
life. He was like, n feet tall, m feet wide, x feet deep. He looked
as if the spherical coordinate system were specially invented for
him. He looked four-dimensional! He looked totally incongruent with
his surroundings, as if a large kid had stepped into his toy-train
kit. He looked like he would readily get down and push if our train's
engine broke down. He looked like an attractive personality (not
figuratively, gravitationally!). He looked like the single 'largest'
cause of to the food problem in this world, and also a likely
solution. He looked like he would take over when Atlas retired. He
looked liked Obelix cubed. He looked...

He was attached with a leash, as PG W. would say, to the yellow
Pomerian she-dog who had halted my train of thoughts in its tracks.

And, now, what was this train of thoughts to which she applied the
pneumatic brakes ? Refer previous to previous to previous to previous
to previous to previous paragraph.

What shall/did I do next ?

I quickly put my train of thoughts back on rail. Went to the
Veg. eatery, bought myself a lunch, ate it heartily, bought The Week,
looked around, read the The Week and gave alms to three beggars. The
train chugged in by then. I got in. Smiled at unpleasant looking
co-passengers, got into the top berth and went to sleep.

Well, that's all there is! Sorry!

when the lonavla-khandala range came I was still sleeping.

If there were any pretty maids on the train, I didn't see them.



Writing about one's experiences is never easy.

Especially if they are imaginary ones.

And especially if you start out earnestly but run out of enthu ( en
thu si as sm , phew!) mid-way through.





Anant S Kamath
a0875470
BSTC B2-79
2257