The day meandered through with nothing very spectacular happening and the dominant feeling was that I felt tremendously sleepy and longed to hit the sack at the first opportunity. But unfortunately that was not to be.
I was at the railway station, shortly after midnight, to oversee the smooth passage of a train of ours.
Actually, the standard operating procedures and the advance notice, along with the painstaking home
work done by the people concerned, enable me to observe the entire serial taking place without much
effort on my part, I must admit!
However, it was different this time. Due to a faux pas - committed by whom, why and when, I do not know
and ain't particularly bothered about knowing the detail - the turning around, end to end, of the train to
facilitate flawless disembarkation had not been carried out and if it wasn't done at this station there was gonna be a whole lot of fireworks coupled with embarassment, at the destination. My counterpart there had called me up to say that I needed to pull him out of this mess, that wasn't of his making.
Unsure about myself, I'd walked into the office of the gentleman on duty. I'd quickly explained the situation
to him but he expressed his inability to help me out saying that he required the green signal of his superiors to initiate necessary action, which was difficult to obtain and he didn't want to incur their wrath at being woken up at this unearthly hour. Three things have to be said at this point of the narration, which are:-
(a) he was receptive to what I was saying and looked(?) positive.
(b) he insisted on speaking to me in a Malayalam-flavoured-English despite my speaking to him in the
lingo and
(c) he'd not offered me a seat to sit down and I wasn't going to plonk myself into the chair without
permission, as is my won't.
Perhaps, the earnestness in my voice made him realise the gravity of the situation and he promised to help me out by pushing 'certain channels'. About 20' must have elapsed, as he cranked up or dialled the numbers on an assorted array of telephones spread on his massive table before he got back to me saying that the turn around of the train would be carried out at the marshalling yard of the station.
I thanked him for his efforts and the help that he was providing. His retort, through a wide toothy grin was, "I don't think that anyone can say no to you. At least, I can't". And the gentleman was on his feet, offering me his hand for a shake.
I felt humbled.
Tailpiece.
I'm thrilled by the amazing story of Chandralekha, a young housewife, from a poor family. She'd sung an old Malayalam film song, which was recorded and posted on 'You tube' where it was an instant success, inviting over four lakh hits. I, too, am captivated by the texture and quality of her melodious voice.
There's no looking back in life for her now. Her first number, for an upcoming movie, was recorded at a studio in Kochi today. And the beauty of her singing prowess is that she's not had any formal training! Just goes to show that talent can never go unnoticed!!
Do well, Chandralekha. Here's me wishing you the best.
I was at the railway station, shortly after midnight, to oversee the smooth passage of a train of ours.
Actually, the standard operating procedures and the advance notice, along with the painstaking home
work done by the people concerned, enable me to observe the entire serial taking place without much
effort on my part, I must admit!
However, it was different this time. Due to a faux pas - committed by whom, why and when, I do not know
and ain't particularly bothered about knowing the detail - the turning around, end to end, of the train to
facilitate flawless disembarkation had not been carried out and if it wasn't done at this station there was gonna be a whole lot of fireworks coupled with embarassment, at the destination. My counterpart there had called me up to say that I needed to pull him out of this mess, that wasn't of his making.
Unsure about myself, I'd walked into the office of the gentleman on duty. I'd quickly explained the situation
to him but he expressed his inability to help me out saying that he required the green signal of his superiors to initiate necessary action, which was difficult to obtain and he didn't want to incur their wrath at being woken up at this unearthly hour. Three things have to be said at this point of the narration, which are:-
(a) he was receptive to what I was saying and looked(?) positive.
(b) he insisted on speaking to me in a Malayalam-flavoured-English despite my speaking to him in the
lingo and
(c) he'd not offered me a seat to sit down and I wasn't going to plonk myself into the chair without
permission, as is my won't.
Perhaps, the earnestness in my voice made him realise the gravity of the situation and he promised to help me out by pushing 'certain channels'. About 20' must have elapsed, as he cranked up or dialled the numbers on an assorted array of telephones spread on his massive table before he got back to me saying that the turn around of the train would be carried out at the marshalling yard of the station.
I thanked him for his efforts and the help that he was providing. His retort, through a wide toothy grin was, "I don't think that anyone can say no to you. At least, I can't". And the gentleman was on his feet, offering me his hand for a shake.
I felt humbled.
Tailpiece.
I'm thrilled by the amazing story of Chandralekha, a young housewife, from a poor family. She'd sung an old Malayalam film song, which was recorded and posted on 'You tube' where it was an instant success, inviting over four lakh hits. I, too, am captivated by the texture and quality of her melodious voice.
There's no looking back in life for her now. Her first number, for an upcoming movie, was recorded at a studio in Kochi today. And the beauty of her singing prowess is that she's not had any formal training! Just goes to show that talent can never go unnoticed!!
Do well, Chandralekha. Here's me wishing you the best.
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