Their journeys had come to a brief halt at a ghostly
station from where both, after seven hours, were to take connecting trains to
their different destinations. They were a woman and a man, who, after initial
surprise and subsequent introduction had settled down, in an air of unease, in
the lone waiting room at the lone platform. The station in the best of sunlight
inspired little optimism, in the night it brought complete gloom. There was a
stationmaster, who did almost every job except cleaning the tracks, a clerk who
did almost every work except typing letters, a vendor who sold almost
everything stale except tea and a coolie who carted around almost every load
except passengers. Mostly poor people alighted here.
When the coolie
noticed a lady with some pretence to beauty, clad in a costly sari, get down
from the train, his eyes lit up. He sensed a chance to make some money and
rushed to her, who asked him to take her to the waiting room. An hour later the
next train brought a rich-looking man, whose luggage too he brought to the same
room. Two passengers in one single day had been godsend. Both looked stinking
rich and their gestures promised him a good tip in addition to his charges.
This prospect energised him and he rushed back to the vendor and brought them
hot tea, with less sugar and milk. From his previous experiences he knew that
the rich people, unlike the poor, didn’t take their tea heavy in milk and
sugar.
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