Each Chhath Puja, returning residence to Bihar turns into an journey — trains bursting with passengers, visitors jams that defy physics, and conductors who redefine honesty. Atul Thakur relives his experiencesIt was 2014. Finish-October. I used to be in Delhi — the place I work — however wanted to return residence to Bihar for the Chhath Puja. I referred to as up a cousin, who teaches at Delhi College, hoping he may assist get my waitlisted railway ticket confirmed. I nonetheless keep in mind what he advised me laughingly: “Each Bihari needs to get the hell out of the state, and now everybody’s making an attempt to return!” Broad generalities distributed with, his tone turned sombre. “It is troublesome to achieve Bihar, and even when you do, it will likely be a one-way ticket. How will you come?” My cousin, I spotted, may by no means grow to be a motivational speaker.Phrase about my unconfirmed ticket had unfold in our workplace. I will need to have advised somebody, after which she or he will need to have advised another person, and so forth. I feel everyone feels a bit of higher when another person is down. Schadenfreude, pure and easy.
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After a depressing day at work, I headed to the Press Membership. Alcohol may do you hurt, however only a few issues come shut if you end up making an attempt to drown your sorrows. You might be in all probability considering what a silly factor I did, however you’re unsuitable. I could not have made a greater resolution. I used to be on the proper place on the proper time. A senior colleague, by now a lot mellowed by the results of alcohol and having ascended an ethical airplane the place schadenfreude had no place, noticed me and took me over to a different senior journalist who may get any railway ticket confirmed. Lengthy reside the particular quota.Bihar, I mentioned, right here I come.The Prepare JourneyI did get on the prepare. I had a confirmed berth. However… Howdy, what was this? A human ocean? I had seen crowds, however this was one thing else. Sardines, packed inside cans, in all probability have more room for themselves.I someway survived, and when morning dawned, and the prepare chugged into Bihar, I felt… blissful, possibly? In spite of everything, I used to be residence. I had made the journey I wished to make. However I additionally knew that I might by no means make this journey ever once more.The Journey AgainMy cousin, the Delhi prof, had been partly proper. There have been no obtainable tickets on the common trains. However being an everlasting pessimist, he had not budgeted for the variety of particular trains the Railways runs throughout Chhath and different festivals.I managed to get a confirmed ticket on one such prepare. It will go away from Patna at 8.30pm. I used to be in Muzaffarpur, my hometown. Surprisingly, on the day I used to be to depart, my dad and mom insisted I go away residence at 11am. “However Patna is barely 70km from right here!” I argued, not sure if my dad and mom had been exhibiting early indicators of senility or in the event that they had been really fed up with my firm.But it surely turned out they had been approaching the 70km journey from a rooted Bihari perspective. A distance that one may fairly count on to cowl in no multiple and a half hours may typically take a lot, for much longer in Bihar. “We’re talking from expertise,” my mom mentioned.Banished with tiffin and a lecture, I set out. Inside an hour I used to be marooned close to Hajipur, going through the Mahatma Gandhi Setu — the bridge over the river Ganges that connects Hajipur within the north to Patna within the south. You hear of monster visitors jams in Delhi and Gurgaon, however this was a complete new degree.I did catch the prepare, which — shock, shock — was on time, however it concerned a dash ultimately, and a well timed leap into the compartment because the prepare was gently pulling out of Patna Junction. So, web web: about 70km in 9 and a half hours. Now do the maths.As soon as seated — not like the prepare to Bihar, this had a restricted variety of people on board — I dialed my mom. “You had been fortunate,” my mom mentioned. “Your father’s uncle’s son-in-law as soon as obtained caught on that bridge in peak summer season, AC gone, ended up admitted to a Patna hospital. His ailing father-in-law needed to go away residence to go to him there.”Good lord! I had been fortunate certainly.
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Fare PlaySubsequent time, I believed, I might e book a airplane. Sadly, so did each different Bihari with a bank card, and the fares throughout Chhath shot up like Diwali rockets. On one go to, I landed in Patna, the place an uncle picked me up from the airport and dropped me at a bus stand. I wasn’t anticipating a bus like this. A gleaming, low-floor, air-conditioned authorities bus to Muzaffarpur. Wow! It felt like a hallucination crafted by a very optimistic city planner. I took the final seat.Seated subsequent to me had been a pair from Delhi. The conductor arrived. “Muzaffarpur,” I mentioned. He quoted one thing like Rs 200. After which he winked. “For you, I’ll make it Rs 150.” Positive! Possibly some low cost scheme. I did not suppose an excessive amount of about it, simply handed over Rs 150. However there was no ticket forthcoming. After which the penny dropped.The Delhi couple beside me had been giving me the dagger look. After which the person took out Rs 400, and, pointedly, advised the conductor: “Give us tickets, we’ll pay Rs 200 every.” The conductor seemed personally betrayed. “Take a look at this man,” he advised the bus, “insisting on paying further.”A murmur rose — passengers, it turned out, are fiercely united in opposition to the precept of receipts. The spouse requested me: “Would you do that on a DTC bus in Delhi?” The husband added, “Because of this nothing works — the passengers and the workers.” Backed right into a nook, the conductor printed their tickets. I felt like I wanted a spot to cover, one thing like a darkish, mossy cave the place no gentle ever entered.After half an hour, nonetheless feeling uncooked inside, I lastly plucked up braveness, and whispered to the couple: “You probably did the suitable factor, Sirji. I really feel horrible.” They smiled, magnanimous in victory.When 30 Turns into 15On one other journey, final yr, I bypassed the bridge altogether and flew into Darbhanga. Exterior the airport, I obtained on a bus to Muzaffarpur and sat beside the driving force. On board had been the driving force, conductor, and cleaner, plus about 30 passengers. We quickly pulled into a petroleum pump, the place a person climbed aboard to rely heads. “Thirty,” he declared. The conductor laughed. “Fifteen, boss. Strive once more.” The person seemed unconvinced till a small parcel of persuasion slid into his pocket. He cleared his throat: “Fifteen.”I, the suburban moralist, could not assist myself. “Will not the proprietor discover out?” The conductor shrugged. “He owns 200 buses. He isn’t an fool.” Pause. “That is anticipated. Our salaries have not modified in years. I am not considering solely of me — the driving force and the cleaner have households too.” He mentioned it with out malice or secrecy, somebody merely stating undisputed information like how the solar rises within the east. Surprisingly sufficient, I managed to see issues from his viewpoint.Again in Muzaffarpur, a journalist pal supplied the tidy thesis. “Bihar runs otherwise,” he mentioned. “For generations, the state by no means actually confirmed up. Colonial hangovers, feudal leftovers, skinny establishments. Individuals realized to get by with out the system, so now the system will get by with out the folks. Autopilot.”Collective Survival TechniqueI’ve replayed these journeys whereas planning each subsequent Chhath. There’s the prepare that become a human aquarium, the countless bridge, the AC bus that seemed like a mirage, the conductor’s low cost that wasn’t a kindness a lot as a customized, the auditor whose arithmetic improved with a bit of encouragement, and the conductor’s calm protection of dishonest. None of that is heroic, however it additionally does not really feel villainous. It looks like a collective survival technique.And every year I discover myself plotting the identical pilgrimage — rail versus street versus sky — telling myself I am going to do it higher this time, figuring out absolutely properly that I most definitely will not.