Travelling Indian Railways cattle class
ravelling cattle class in the train has its own romance, the romance of getting those juicy nuggets of information which you never ever would have got from the A/C confines of your compartment.
Having been denied a quota reservation from Siliguri to New Delhi at the last minute (due to troop movement to the China border), I jumped into the pantry car berth benignly offered to me by an obliging ticket collector who promised me an AC II berth sometime later.
Of course, one did not bargain for what one got in the process. Having never ever visited a pantry van in a train, it was quite a humbling seven-hour experience to sit in between littered sandwiches, rolling samosas, cartons of salt and pepper sachets and the relentless smell of food being cooked, served, consumed and thrown around.
Sitting amid waiters, caterers and sweepers who, incidentally, prefer to be called support staff, I felt like a red panda in a new zoo with everyone coming to see how the oddity (that’s me the lone woman in a pantry car) was doing.
As the conversation flowed, after sympathetic words about me being there, one got to know a lot about everything — from how VIP passengers misbehave, to the reasons why I could not manage a lone berth in a 21-hour journey to the Capital.
Particularly interesting was a man who was showcased by the rest of the staff as the only person to have been dangled out of the running train by a furious sidekick of Pappu Yadav for not getting him the desired food.
Apparently, when Yadav boards the train, he does so with at least 10 sidekicks, all of whom get berths and the perks of AC I. I was told how Pappu Yadav himself is a train insomniac and needs pantry service throughout the night.
Nobody ever dares to stop or question him or his cronies as they play cards, drink, eat and generally make a ruckus. “Even legitimate passengers prefer to vacate their berths rather than bear the brunt of the Yadav clan,” said one waiter who had stepped in that night to save his colleague’s life.
That was, of course, Pappu Yadav. There was another one on the train that night who was creating quite a flurry in the pantry staff. He first wanted chicken (it had finished), then mutton (which is not served), and then only rohu fish (which was not on the menu that day).
The man relaxing on the berth in front of me, turned out to be the catering manager. When a harassed waiter asked him what was to be done with this particular passenger, he threw the complaint book at him, saying “tonight, this man gets only the complaint book.”! A bout of genuine laughter later, one of the cooks suggested he would make the chicken and gulab jamuns on the running train — he did so with alacrity and served it to the irate passenger who finally calmed down around 9 pm.
Many more such incidents took away my time before the TC returned around 10 pm to give me a berth in the AC II compartment. This was really an eye opener. I got to know how the catering of the Rajdhanis was with some Delhi-based firm and how food for the entire train comes packed from various stations. The running kitchen services only the AC I passengers who have the privilege of a pick and choose menu and freshly cooked food every time they want a bite.
One also came to know a lot of behind the scene issues that plague the Railway staff. As one veteran lamented: “The minister announces a fast long-distance train. But does he/she or anyone else really look into the logistics? Where will you get water to service a 48-train? How will you keep the overburdened track free? What about security? These are issues that never get highlighted.”
Indeed, that man you chide for not bringing you, say, a bottle of water in time, is actually bone-tired serving you and 100s of others on umpteen journeys — none of which ever take him home.
Having been denied a quota reservation from Siliguri to New Delhi at the last minute (due to troop movement to the China border), I jumped into the pantry car berth benignly offered to me by an obliging ticket collector who promised me an AC II berth sometime later.
Of course, one did not bargain for what one got in the process. Having never ever visited a pantry van in a train, it was quite a humbling seven-hour experience to sit in between littered sandwiches, rolling samosas, cartons of salt and pepper sachets and the relentless smell of food being cooked, served, consumed and thrown around.
Sitting amid waiters, caterers and sweepers who, incidentally, prefer to be called support staff, I felt like a red panda in a new zoo with everyone coming to see how the oddity (that’s me the lone woman in a pantry car) was doing.
As the conversation flowed, after sympathetic words about me being there, one got to know a lot about everything — from how VIP passengers misbehave, to the reasons why I could not manage a lone berth in a 21-hour journey to the Capital.
Particularly interesting was a man who was showcased by the rest of the staff as the only person to have been dangled out of the running train by a furious sidekick of Pappu Yadav for not getting him the desired food.
Apparently, when Yadav boards the train, he does so with at least 10 sidekicks, all of whom get berths and the perks of AC I. I was told how Pappu Yadav himself is a train insomniac and needs pantry service throughout the night.
Nobody ever dares to stop or question him or his cronies as they play cards, drink, eat and generally make a ruckus. “Even legitimate passengers prefer to vacate their berths rather than bear the brunt of the Yadav clan,” said one waiter who had stepped in that night to save his colleague’s life.
That was, of course, Pappu Yadav. There was another one on the train that night who was creating quite a flurry in the pantry staff. He first wanted chicken (it had finished), then mutton (which is not served), and then only rohu fish (which was not on the menu that day).
The man relaxing on the berth in front of me, turned out to be the catering manager. When a harassed waiter asked him what was to be done with this particular passenger, he threw the complaint book at him, saying “tonight, this man gets only the complaint book.”! A bout of genuine laughter later, one of the cooks suggested he would make the chicken and gulab jamuns on the running train — he did so with alacrity and served it to the irate passenger who finally calmed down around 9 pm.
Many more such incidents took away my time before the TC returned around 10 pm to give me a berth in the AC II compartment. This was really an eye opener. I got to know how the catering of the Rajdhanis was with some Delhi-based firm and how food for the entire train comes packed from various stations. The running kitchen services only the AC I passengers who have the privilege of a pick and choose menu and freshly cooked food every time they want a bite.
One also came to know a lot of behind the scene issues that plague the Railway staff. As one veteran lamented: “The minister announces a fast long-distance train. But does he/she or anyone else really look into the logistics? Where will you get water to service a 48-train? How will you keep the overburdened track free? What about security? These are issues that never get highlighted.”
Indeed, that man you chide for not bringing you, say, a bottle of water in time, is actually bone-tired serving you and 100s of others on umpteen journeys — none of which ever take him home.
Published October 11, 2009, Sunday Pioneer, http://dailypioneer.com/208234/Travelling-Indian-Railways-cattle-class.html
Comments
Post a Comment