Seat No. 51: It started with a journey … And ended with nostalgia!

By Shubham Gaur

This is the story of Siddhant, a young man, coming back to his town Mathura for his wedding. On the train, he befriends his fellow passenger to whom, he narrates the anecdotes of his life. Therein we get introduced to infatuation… fantasy… dejection… love… wedding… (Well this isn’t all, there is a lot within) C’mon! Get on board, where Siddhant awaits you with his fables.

Seat No. 51 is a romance based on the aromatic theme of happy things we do in life, and on those remorseful incidents we laugh upon as soon as they pass. This novel is about some school going friends and the celebration of their enduring friendship, from their teenage prospect to their adulthood panorama. This story is about being a friend, a girlfriend, a fake friend, a dad-friend and a dead friend...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Notion Press
• Release date: Aug 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9789352061754

Book preview

novel.

Prologue

November 25th, 2014, Ernakulam Junction, 06:55 P.M

53…53… 53. Ok, its 48, 49, 50 …so where is 51? Umm hmm… Hell man, where is it? Excuse me, is it the S9 Bogey? I asked a man who was busy talking to someone on the phone the moment the train started slithering away from the station.

Haan Papa, I’ll take care of it. Don’t get hyper about this. And it is just the 25th today. The wedding is on the 2nd! You don’t worry. I’ll be there on time. Papa; I will talk to you later, the guy ended the call and responded with an amiable smile. Yes, did you say something?

Yeah. Actually I was asking is it the S9 bogey? I am looking for seat no. 54,

Yes. It is the S9 bogey. And seat 54…Aah! There you go! It’s very near my seat. I’m on seat no.51,

Okay, thanks,

What’s your destination? he asked combing his hair with his fingers casually.

Delhi. And yours?

Hello, I’m Siddhant Sinha, your co-passenger for next three days. I will be with you till Mathura, He introduced himself and proffered his hand to me.

Shubham Gaur, I shook hands with him.

I placed my luggage on the seat and started arranging all my stuff neatly. I took a quick look at the guy who was busy staring and smiling down at something in his mobile. He wore a modern linen blazer and a white shirt. Going over his physical appearance, I would say, his hair was perfectly combed as if fixed by adhesive. A well built guy, athletic in stance and pretty tall, around 5 feet 11 inches at stretch, he was perfectly complimenting the clothes he wore.

Sorry to say. But such a smirk can only be the outcome of something that is completely inane and thoughtless or something regarding a girl. Which one is it? I grilled.

It’s the second one. She’s Shagun, my fiancé, he blushed.

Gradually, the train reached its optimum speed and publicly conveyed its customary ‘gutang-khutang’. Siddhant was busy texting someone persisted with a saccharine smile. Without a doubt, even a 5-year old kid could figure out whom he was talking to. I guffawed gently and ignored him. I inserted my ear-plugs and started listening to ghazals. Soon, as I was the centre of continuous incoming calls, I got one from my boss.

Good evening Sir… Yes Sir… Yes Sir… Yes Sir, I have told my sales executive to do that job. He will send you the report in no time … Ok … Bye Sir… and that was my entire job restricted to.

Within 30 seconds, I got my second call from my sales executive who was supposed to do the job which I was just talking to my boss about. He gave me the report but I wasn’t satisfied. For me, this wasn’t a new thing and this too was a part of my job, which showered me with quite a good salary and gave me endurance to manage all sorts of debacles. I wrapped up all my work in a wink. I appointed another sales executive and assured him of a fastidious incentive for the job to be done. And when I finally received a call of appreciation from my boss, I considered it a job well done. I did not notice that Siddhant was looking all my activities ad infinitum. When I wrapped up all my drudgery, I made an eye contact with him.

So Shubham, what do you do to earn a living? Siddhant asked while sliding his phone deep into his pocket.

Actually I’m the regional head of a private bank which deals in providing different types of loans to people. Like car loans, home loans, education loans,

Please don’t mind, but it sounds boring. Isn’t it so? Siddhant asked offering me some cardamom seeds to snack on.

Yeah, it is, but what to do? You always don’t get what you wish for. Sometimes you have to customize your dreams. What about you? What’s your mode of earning?

I’m an Assistant Professor of English. I have been teaching for a year, he answered.

Professor? Really? I questioned as he didn’t look like one. For me, the word ‘professor’ developed the image of a man who owned countless creases on his face and counted far less hair on his head. Someone four or five years younger than our freedom fighters fitted in my panorama of the ostensible ‘professor’.

Yeah, what is so surprising about it?

Nothing, it was just that…just…leave it…

What?

I mean did you really want to become a teacher or it is just an upshot of bad luck? Sorry if you feel offended by my question,

No it’s ok. There is nothing to feel offended about it. You are not the first guy who has asked this and talking about my profession, I would say that I love it, I was gratified with the answer.

We started talking about various prospects like politics, sports, the glamour world, etc. As time moved, we both got equal opportunities to learn each other’s ideologies. Till now, Siddhant seemed to be a totally decent guy, from his attire to his heart. He was a calm, amicable and jovial personality. When we were busy eating biscuits and talking about the sharp and edgy aspects of Indian politics two small girls came in our bogey. Torn and shrivelled clothes told us their story. Their hair was brown like copper and was commandeered by dust and mud. Harsh brown skin and a straight face with no expression was all they owned. I thought, if a nice bath is provided to them, they would appear like normal children. But that was not what they could do.

When they entered the coach, one of them took out a small metal ring from their ‘jhola’ and started performing. She did two or three cartwheels and passed herself through that ring. That ring was not a big one, hardly one meter in diameter where she passed herself numerous times. When she finished her small performance, the other girl shouted ‘Sab maalik ki den hai, bas dil me thoda pain hai. Aap log ho duniya mein to dil ko thoda chain hai. Maalik sab ko khush rakhta hai or humein khush karne ka kaam aap ko de rakha hai. Sabke paas ayenge, udaas mat lautana.’ And one by one, they started approaching all the passengers to ask for some money. I started observing people and when I caught a glimpse of Siddhant, he was busy writing something on a piece of paper. I said to myself ‘What a weird man, he tells me to see how people react and is busy writing something.’

As fate had it reserved for them, everybody gave them something. Some gave 1 or 2 rupees coins, and those who didn’t do so, gave those girls a stomach full of admonishment and curses. The girls ignored their chidings and finally came to us. Siddhant started talking to them What are your names?

"Iska Parvati aur mera Durga," the one who was collecting money answered.

He gave Parvati a 50 rupee note and said That was lovely Parvati! And here, take this paper Durga. I have written dialogues for you. Now whenever you perform in any train, say these things instead of what you said now. It will help you to earn more, he handed that piece of paper. With a straight face and no change in expressions, she started going through that paper. After reading it, she finally smiled. Her smile was not that pretty. But the fact that her smirk was seen only rarely, made it valuable and precious. They both came to me then. I gave them 20 rupee note and they went ahead.

I asked What did you write?

Nothing special! Just some creative lines to mark a good impact on the listeners, he said recapping his pen. That ‘tuck’ sound appeared to be the full stop at the end of his sentence.

Time passed. The intensity of our friendship was directly proportional to the number of stations we covered. The more we travelled in our beloved Nizamuddin Express, the more we got to know about each other. In fact, Siddhant compared our friendship to the sweater which an old woman was knitting close by. He said that our friendship was a lot like that sweater, whose strings were gradually being layered in and over and would certainly lead to a comfortable and warming relationship. Nevertheless, we both were disturbed by our phones at various instants, but the difference was, he liked that disturbance from his fiancé while I hated being disturbed by subordinates and exclusively by the boss.

The next day, when we reached Renigunta Station (A.P) at around 8 in the morning, we were informed that train would halt for half an hour because of some technical problem. The whole compartment was busy terminating their regular activities as fast as they could. I and Siddhant woke up from our hackneyed sleep by listening usual hustle bustle around us. We slipped our feet into our foot wear while rubbing and cleaning our eyes. We were forced to clean ourselves with the most unclean and unhygienic stuff available. We brushed our teeth, accumulated all our valour and audacity to go to washroom and successfully came out of the washrooms without fainting.

After finishing up all our activities, we sat on our seats. Suddenly, Siddhant requested my concentration over some boys who were standing at the platform right in front of us. They were three in number. One of them was sitting on a suitcase and throwing his right hand in arbitrary directions while talking over his phone, the second chap was stressfully talking / pleading to the ticket checker with a grief struck and beseeching expression. The third boy was smoking near a shop and was walking around the ticket checker and shop repetitively.

What do you think is going on there? Siddhant came back in action.

What’s there to think of?

Okay. I’ll make you understand. As far as I think, these three boys are friends. That boy has lost or misplaced his ticket somewhere who is talking to the T.C. He pointed towards the boy standing with ticket checker. And I don’t know why, but I have a strong intuition that these two boys are the reason of his problem.

How can you say so? I asked.

Their expressions tell me that. Hey! Let us call them both and know the matter,

I was more than free and was looking for things to kill time, so we both got down from train and Siddhant screamed out to them. They came near us and we started talking to them. Arpit stood up from the suitcase and received us.

"Yes. What happened?"

Is that guy with you two? Siddhant asked.

"Yeah, he is standing there to pay off his sins," Rehan answered throwing the butt of cigarette in a dustbin nearby.

Sins? We both said in unanimity.

I’ll tell you, Rehan said. "We three are students of Dayaram College of Engineering. Our exams just got over and as an incentive to ourselves, we took four days vacation to loosen up our grey cells. Sahishnu’s house is not really far from our college, so he forced us to go to his home. It was his younger sister’s birthday too; so he planned a pleasant surprise for his family. According to his plan, we three would go to his home as a surprise and flabbergast everyone with amazement. We were really happy in the train but when we got to know that Sahishnu’s family had gone out of station to celebrate his sister’s birthday, our minds dropped more than anything. I swear, my brain is putrefied and is stinking somewhat similar to these ‘sulabh shauchalay’. His surprise made us suffer. So to take revenge; we hid his ticket and started shouting ‘Where the hell is your ticket Sahishnu? You should not do this. Our parents have always said that we should always travel with ticket. How ill-mannered you are!’ And listening to all that shit, the T.C came. He is screwing Sahishnu for the last half an hour. And we’re loving it!"

So? What’s the plan? I mean how long will it go on? I asked laughingly.

Until he slides into a truly gigantic quandary. We are here to look after it.

We got back into our bogey and sat on our seats. But from the window, we kept seeing them incessantly. After 5–6 minutes, our train slithered away and till then, neither Sahishnu was spared by T.C nor did Arpit and Rehan go to his help. After a while, I started the conversation while sipping tea.

I think they must have revealed the truth to the T.C and saved Sahishnu from further mortification. Don’t you think so?

Siddhant made horrible faces while he took the first sip of the tea, paused for a moment and then answered You know Shubham! Sahishnu and the other two boys are going to remember this incident for a very long time. They will talk about this whenever they will meet. No matter how old they grow. These things don’t carry much magnitude when they really happen, but when time passes; we miss them. Perhaps, they may shed tears too, Siddhant ended his statement, and I could see a very minuscule droplet of tear sparkling in his eye.

I was sure till then, that Siddhant was thinking of something in context of those three boys. Was he persecuted too? Or did he do anything like this to someone? Again, that same Shubham Gaur, that same train, that same bogey, that ultra long journey, and an interesting topic. In a roundabout way, I questioned his reason to snivel. I said, I know this tea is really pathetic. But it is not so bad that you are snivelling for it,

My idea worked. He laughed and wiped his eyes with the cuff of his shirt. He said I’m sorry. Actually my brain jumped into the pond of old memories. I just got drenched and as a result; I am leaking water from here and there,

What type of memories? College ones? I guessed.

Not really. I’m lost in school ones, he smiled, inhaled lots of air and sighed greatly. It came out like the sound of a bugle blown off before beginning something.

Rendezvous

I(Siddhant Sinha) was in the region of eighteen years in 2005 when I first entered into the class of my new school. St. Dominic’s, class XI-B. This is where I procured the most humble and craziest memories anybody could ever have. But at the spiky start, where I knew no one in the flock of students, my start was a considerably big failure, where my entire valour and lenience was kept on trial. I remember my first encounter with Mrs. Aradhana, our chemistry teacher who added one of the bitterest files in the hard disk of my mind.

May I come in Ma’am? was my first official question to Mrs. Aradhana, who was dangerously engaged in teaching children about something which I didn’t know. And for those students possibly, I appeared to be a messenger of god who just saved them from a woman-made disaster.

Yes, who are you? She questioned me because possibly at that time, I wasn’t looking like a student in my low-waist jeans, ruffled sleeves and unbuttoned shirt.

I’m the new student, Siddhant Sinha, son of Mr. Rajdev Sinha, new Sales Tax Commissioner of this city. This is my first day so… I got into the class while answering her but before I could move up to my third step, she stopped me and then there I was, standing in front of whole class as well as the blackboard. Before I could make out the reason for my halt, she took up a chalk and started rubbing it against blackboard. Finally, she finished up her writing and I was able to see a big paragraph which read:

LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN….!!!

Notifications for Rich Spoilt Brats…

1. It will be really kind of you to button up your shirt and come to class like a decent student.

2. We will feel privileged if you would consider this an educational institute rather than a fashion show.

Simply, an awful beginning. I could hear a voice in my ears saying ‘Welcome to St. Dominic’s Senior Secondary School’. While singing the emotional elegy for the death of my charm, I searched for the most far-fetched seat to set me apart from the world for a bit. I sat behind the seats of those two guys, who never left me since. Harinder and Vasant, were sitting in front of me, the former chewing up the pen and the latter writing something.

"I think I’ve made my point clear why I’m starting up with the 5th chapter first. So today we will start with our 5th chapter i.e. ‘States of Matter’. Take out your first book and those who haven’t bought it yet can share it with their neighbour. But make sure you buy it A.S.A.P!" Mrs. Aradhana said in a polite yet rigid way.

"Lo sahab, aate hi 5th gear mein gaadi chala di. Is she in her usual cranky state of mind?" Harinder complained to Vasant as if he would get up and solve the conflict.

You, fat boy, stand up! Mrs. Aradhana commanded Harinder as she was able to listen to his whisper. She yelled at Harinder saying Just get out of the class.

Ma’am sorry. Ma’am, please give me this last chance. I’ll not repeat this again. Sorry Ma’am, Nothing was to be done; Harinder left the class after a mountainous urge to sit back down.

So, where were we? Mrs. Aradhana started her lecture while Harinder passed out from the room. As soon she received guidance by the cream of studious students, with Vasant being one of them, she got into the core of teaching ‘States of Matter’ to its finest detail, until the bell stroked at last. Our situation seemed very similar to the theoretical ‘States of Matter’ which Aradhana Ma’am was busy teaching to the class. Harinder was sublimed out of the classroom, my image was vaporized in front of the whole class and Vasant sat similar to super cooled Bose-Einstein Condensate. Well, the lecture ended and it was Arun Sir who was the next stalker to hunt the innocent rabbits from their burrows of contentment.

I was already late to school that day and got to attend the third lecture in the wagon. I was looking for the silver lining in those heavy black clouds, with the recess being the lining and lectures being the clouds. On the whole, Arun Sir had the last lecture before recess and I was desperately looking to its other side. He was one of the most punctual teachers of the institution and probably the one made fun of the most. That day, being an exception in the schedule of Arun Sir’s punctuality, when he got late by 15–20 minutes. I remember when he entered the class.

Gooooooood Mooooooorniiiiiiiiiing Siiiiiiir… the whole of XI-B greeted him in unison.

Umm hmmm…. This isn’t expected from you students. You’re all grown up now, right? Two years, and you will be in college. I’m warning you people, behave properly now onwards, Arun Sir angered.

Soooooooorrrrrrryyyyyyy Siiiiiiirrrrrrrr… the whole class again shouted in accord. While not really in his ultimate potency to deal with the irritation popped up by the kids, he tried to remain calm. He gestured to the class to sit down and then sat on his chair regaining his lost peace of mind. Soon after, he came back with his oomph which we endured throughout the year.

So students, you finally made it! How does it feel to be sitting in XI-B; ‘The Science Stream’ of St. Dominic’s Senior Secondary School?

It is complete boredom Sir; there is nothing to look forward to. I hope that our coming two years will not go like this physics period, where we are gossiping like ladies and haven’t started with our first chapter till now, That was the first time I heard Vasant’s voice. Being a lanky fellow and fair enough in complexion, his voice was just opposite to his looks; bold with his pitch and intense with the words he chose.

Vasant Shukla, it is not a pub or a food court where you have come to enjoy refreshing drinks and yummy munchies. And if we talk about your first chapter, I am more fretful about them than you, Arun Sir snubbed him and resumed, So students, let us talk at first. You all will be at work after around 4–5 years and hopefully most of you will be successful by then. But let me tell you one more thing; these forthcoming years will have a geometrical shape, similar to two tracks placed parallel to each other which are gradually expanding. Right now, you all are standing at the starting point of that railway track. The more time you take, the more the hard slog increase, and the faster you achieve your goal, the less hard work it takes. So just feel the competition, grid up your loins, and rush towards your goal, Arun Sir encouraged.

"What the hell is he verbalizing? Has he lost it? What a teacher we have! A technical saint! If he is having so much knowledge, then why didn’t he attain his goal in life? Chutiyo ki kami nahi hai, ek dhundo, hazaar milte hain. Ek ye khada; Arun, Chutiyo ka brand ambassador,"

So after Arun Sir showed up fifteen minutes late, the remaining time was wasted on a wry ‘lecture’. It was funny watching him speak where his downy moustache appeared like the head of a toothbrush which moved up and down as he spoke. But before Arun Sir could show his teaching abilities, the period bell rang and the children sighed with relief. Recess commenced and the entire class moved out of the room leaving me behind where I was sitting at the back and wondering why I was there.

Recess persisted and all the students appeared horrible. The girls were neither sexy nor intelligent. It looked as if their mothers had intensified their plain looks with non-glamorous pony tails showered with gallons of oil on empty heads. Well, precisely after five six minutes of the recess, when I was still sitting alone in the class, Harinder came to my desk and patted me on my shoulder saying Nobody is a virgin my friend, life fucks everyone. My name is Harinder and you are Siddhant, right? I nodded and shook hands with him. He asked me to come out with him and in time, we started talking about different things, where he was elaborating the history of St. Dominic’s and other aspects closely related to him.

Harinder, a pretty tall guy, an inch or two taller than me, with his cheeks embellished with red pimples and nose with sprouting blackheads, was burdened with a tummy which disregarded his looks to a certain degree. One thing was there to be observed about Harinder, I mean talking about his inner side, Harinder was an outspoken personality; he was a great guy to hangout and to be with. The way he unfolded stories behind incidents was utterly mellifluous. We started with the normal, formal conversation, where he basically shared his part without giving me fair chance to speak. He talked about families, friends, his past and all the things which are customarily talked about in the first conversation and then he turned the question bottle towards me.

Tell me something about yourself buddy, I have opened up my whole life to you. Now it’s your turn,

I shared my part with him. I told him that from childhood, I used to have many friends. But then gradually, I was deprived of those strong friendships, possibly because of my father. His continuous transfers from one city to another just shattered my dream of having a bunch of nice friends who would be ready to help round the clock. Some people made me their friend, but it was also one of the side effects of my father’s job. They used me because their parents possibly told them to do so. I stopped after sermonizing this much. I don’t know why I spoke my entire tragic story to Harinder. It must be because he was such good company. I stopped completing my words, thinking that I had given myself ample introduction. Later on, I asked Harinder about his best friend.

"Vasant is my till date best friend. We share a good understanding between us. You know, oh! How’ll you know, he is competing for the interstate speech competition. It’s his dream to achieve it. He is not as rich as we are, so