Hear Delhi, here I come...

As I looked at Army Man checking out my lacy bra, the train gave a sudden jolt… and I was rudely awakened from my dream. There was Army Man across me, with his legs entwined in mine and fast asleep. I realized that while I had been dreaming about him, I did not like Army Man. There was just something about him that was vaguely disturbing. Usually, that would have excited me. But with the last two experiences I had had, I let this chance pass. After all, I was going to the city with capital opportunities. Both Punjabi and Jat men were known for their aggression and I hoped it was not just on the roads…

With some difficulty, I extricated my legs from between those of Army Man’s and climbed onto my upper berth, deciding not to descend for the rest of the journey. All this while, Army Man did not move a muscle. As he slept with his legs spread and stretched out on the seat, his short rose up tantalizingly. I almost remained sitting, waiting for the garment to give me a peek at what lay beneath… However, I was forced to avert my gaze as Army Man squirmed in his sleep and I was afraid he’d wake up and catch me staring at his crotch; this time for real.

The early morning coach-composure was broken by someone screaming, “Saddi Dilli aa gayi, chalo, chalo,” and whole families of people started lining up at the coach door. It never made sense why people were in a rush to get off when it was supposed to be a train’s last station: it was not going to chug away! As I got off my perch, Army Man was folding his toiletries in his towel, while his bedding lay on the seat, already neatly folded. He was wearing crisply, creased clothes and had even shaved. It was 6 am as the train rolled on to the platform and I wondered what kind of discipline could force a person to shave that early in the morning… that too when on a train. Even women would go around with shaggy eyebrows and a moustache if they had to wax or tweeze everyday, ya?

My first view of Delhi… was a lot of Sardarjis – in various shapes and sizes - on the platform. For a minute I panicked that I had gotten off at Amritsar; and then I saw the board: ‘Welcome to Hazrat Nizamuddin’, with the picture of a smiling old lady in a bun, a white cotton sari and a namaste, greeting everyone.