“You are not even a Tatkal, you are a late-kal.”
Newly wed Jyotsna remarked when her husband Rabi failed to book the tatkal ticket to a tourist destination to celebrate her first birthday post marriage.
Rabi had nothing in his defense. He was a little frustrated with the sluggish train booking site and was thinking how about Indian Government legalizing betting in cricket but allowing it to operate through the train booking portal!
“I did it.” Rabi announced after three days as soon as he finally booked the ticket with the help of his friend who had the reputation for being not only a graduate in Industrial Engineering, but also a master in train booking.
The journey date coincided with Jyotsna’s birthday. Jyotsna being well planned, they had boarded the train in time and the train was yet to start.
Rabi whispered in Jyotsna’s ear, “My gift to you on your birthday will be a piece of my heart.”
“What’s that?”, Jyotsna was curious.
“And that’s a piece of your heart!”
“I meant that’s not merely my most favorite book, it’s the one that made me.”
“Interesting. Which book? Let me put hands on the book that made my hubby; almost.” Jyotsna couldn’t control laughing.
“I could not buy it before we boarded. I will do that once we reach.”
“You know… you are the hare.”
“Hair!” Rabi ran his fingers through his receding hair.
“Not that hair. The hare that lost the race and comes last.”
“No… I am not in any race.”
Before Rabi could say any further he saw through the windows a book trolley with his favorite book on display was passing by the bogie. In a flash, he got down the train. He purchased the desired book. Then, as a victim of his old habits, he started browsing a few others.
Jyotsna’s frantic voice made Rabi realize that the train had started. He ran with the book to catch the train. It was like the famous scene of that popular Bollywood movie, with a role reversal. The hero was chasing the train and the heroine on board was reaching out to give the hero a hand.
Rabi could get in before it was too late.
Handing the book to Jyotsna Rabi said, “You are right. I am the hare. The hare, who runs, but who also relaxes. Imagine, how boring the story would have been if the hare would have just simply run and won!”
Holding Jyotsna’s hands Rabi continued, “Don’t you think the hare is a happy hare. He would have been surely unhappy if the slow tortoise would have lost. Also, who says that the hare comes the last? It comes second; second to none other than the steady tortoise. That’s not bad.”
“But catching a running train is bad. Very bad.” Jyotsna was still fuming.
“Of course.” Rabi held his ears and promised that he would be more mindful and not do these silly adventures anymore.
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