The Morning Ritual

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I was late. The constant fear of missing the train had awakened me till 1 A.M. The train was to leave the station at 6 A.M. I had planned to get up at 4 in the morning, follow my routine morning rituals, and then leave at 5 for the station. But everything reversed when I kept dozing, as I ignored the repeated snoozes of my alarm.  I woke up at 5. I was unable to decide if I wanted to be at the lavatory or should book a cab. My bladder was about to burst and the accumulated waste inside my colon was pressing my rectum hard to be thrown out. I thrust myself into a pair of jeans and a pullover and rushed to the washroom grabbing the mobile phone in one palm.

I was multitasking.

While I emptied myself in the commode, my left hand was brushing my teeth and my right palm was booking a cab.

Relieved.

The cab was 2 minutes away, which meant in 120 seconds, I had to clean my teeth and face, also my buttocks, wear shoes, and be at the pick-up point. I stayed on the 2nd floor of my hostel.

The phone rang. My mother. I disconnected it. Nothing unusual. The only person important to me right now was the cab driver. I prayed for him to be late for 3 minutes at least. It was 5.15 A.M. already.

He arrived exactly at the mentioned time. ‘Main pohoch gaya location mein.’

‘Ha Bhaiyya main bhi bas pohoch gaya.’

I was still about to wear the shoes. Walk down the staircases. Grab the keys from the gatekeeper.

A huge task for my 20-year-old mind.

I was going home during my summer break. It was the first time I was traveling by train. The train was Rajdhani Express which meant, the train was on time.

‘Bhaiyya. Wo train 6 bje hai. On time. Pohcha do na kaise bhi. Please.’

‘Maruti Alto hai bhai, helicopter nahi. Pankh thode lage hai. Location mein 10minute rukwaya apne.’

‘Sorry Bhaiyya. Double fare dunga.’

This worked. The small cab became a helicopter in a few minutes and I was at the station at 5.55 A.M. I ran to Platform No. 1. Jumped up to a compartment and the train started.

I gasped. ‘Finally.’

I traveled through each compartment which seemed never ending with the heavy luggage in one hand, the bag pack on my shoulders, and the other clutching the phone. It rang until I picked it up to inform my mother about my boarding. I had decided not to narrate to her my morning anecdote. She would again misconstrue me and elaborate a disquisition on discipline. I took my seat and stretched myself with a cup of tea served by the catering service on the train.

While I crossed several villages, I could see small children running to the fields clenching a small pot of water in one hand. Some were already seated on the ground in ‘malasana’ pushing themselves to unburden their bowels. I smiled and was amused at the thought of myself being replicated in the same plight just an hour ago.

After some time, I dozed off asking my mother to wake me up 15 minutes before my destination. I had transferred the onus of not missing the station to my mother. I was relaxed.

 

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