Story of the Week [for the week 28.04 to 04.05.2008]
Author’s note: This is the first part of the story that has three endings as Rare, Medium and Well Done. Jeffrey Archer’s short story “One man’s meat” has a similar format. Please read the first part of the story and then the endings. The first half is common for all three.
There is a certain romanticism, if there is such a word, about travelling in trains. At every junction of the endless tracks, at every platform, in every tunnel en route and in the train itself, there’s a mystic force which keeps you in awe of the journey. There is never a boring moment on board a long journey in a train; simply because there is so much to look forward to and enough time for some quiet contemplation.
I have always loved travelling by trains. The clickety-clack of the wheels on the track can soothe my frayed nerves in such a manner as no whine of jet turbine can ever hope to achieve. Little wonder then that at times when I am most perturbed, by pressures of work or otherwise, I am most likely to be found on a train journey, heading in no particular direction.
An evening journey by the downtown special has many advantages: there is the opportunity to have a whiff of the sea breeze as the train rolls past the wharf, the chance to catch up on daily happenings in the world via the newspaper or radio and of course, the opportunity to meet interesting people. Daily co-passengers soon become friends, although it may be years before we know each other by name. Acquaintance usually begins with a smile across a lowered newspaper as a beautiful dame passes by. Or by a discussion on the sudden turn of the weather for worse. In many cases, there is the usual dismal performance of the national football team and as time has proved, nothing can foster male bonding quite as similarly as football, or for that matter, sports can.
Post the initial friendly banter, sharing of tales of tedium at the workplace occurs. And because of this, there breeds a sense of unity – something only a rail journey, repeated daily over a period of ten years can achieve. Of the few loco-buddies that I share this feeling of brotherhood, the sprightliest and funniest has to be Phil. He is the only one of us who has had time on the other side of the law and often, his escapades, or those of his cronies, keep us entertained throughout the one hour journey. This is one of his tales.
Phil’s friend, who for want of a name (Phil has a bad memory) we shall call Harry, was travelling on a train to nowhere (destination unknown, courtesy Phil). Knowing Phil, we assumed that Harry is a chip off the old “small-time” thieves block. It was only later that we learnt that he is more than that! Harry, as any penny wise train traveller is wont to do, was travelling without a ticket. It all boils down to a balance between the amount you have to pay if you are caught without a ticket and the number of times you think you can get away travelling ticket-less explained Harry to Phil, who explained to us. Quite ironic that we should learn practical life application of trade-off from some cons. But such is life.
Harry’s always had a good run with the ticket checkers, with the closest he came to being caught was when he was trying to flinch a wallet off a guy at the Manquire station. Much to his horror, he realized that the guy whose wallet was almost in his hands was a ticket checker. He fled in panic, dropping the guy’s wallet there itself. But Harry got a good look at the guy’s uniform and made a mental note to himself never to approach any person wearing anything remotely similar to that. Suffice to say that he was fairly ruffled by that particular incidence.
So, you can imagine his plight (said Phil) when on a particularly lazy Sunday, he saw a ticket checker board the exact same bogie he was in. With more than mild trepidation in his otherwise brave heart, he made a dash to the nearest exit. He was dismayed when he saw that there was no way he could jump off the train without seriously damaging his appendages. Dismayed, he returned to his seat and awaited his fate. He was sure that there were going to be more unfortunate souls like him. At least he would have company in his misery. Many thoughts crossed his mind as the ticket checker approached him – pick the pocket of the guy beside me and hand over his ticket to the checker, create a diversion by shouting snake, pull the chain and jump out of the train, better still, create a commotion and claim that my wallet has been picked and in the ensuing ruckus, pick other people’s wallets to add to the confusion. None of them really made any sense and he silently acknowledged defeat.
To pass time, Harry began making a mental list of people whom he thought would give him company. Since he had no money, he was sure that he would be taken down to the local gaol and held there for a couple of days. He was sure that none of the females on board the train were going to be caught ticket-less, forget accompanying him to the gaol. Certainly not the looker who was sitting near where the ticket checker was right now. She definitely appeared to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and Harry was sure he had not seen her before on this train.
Author’s note: This is where the first half ends. You can now read the following three endings:
