It Had Been a Day of Bad Luck

I usually buy a reserve class ticket. That’s a necessity, especially when making the journey from Moradabad to Delhi.  The next day, I was to join my office as their forensic guy.  I was running late.  My sweat glands were working very well.  After waiting in the ticket line for 20 minutes, I was informed there was no reserved seating available.  I was forced to buy a general ticket.

I rushed to the platform.

Up ahead, my train started moving forward.  I couldn’t miss my appointment.  So, I ran my hardest to catch the train.  Panting and still breathless, the coach doors slammed behind me. People were settling into sleeper booths.  I’d entered the wrong coach!

Near the coach gate, the ticket checker prepared for his inspection.  “Just my luck, he’s inspecting this coach now,” I mumbled.  I showed him my ticket and explained I’d unintentionally entered the wrong coach.

 “Alright.  Change your coach at the next station.”  The inspector brushed me aside and continued down the aisle.  Since I wasn’t authorized to sit, I stood beside the toilet out of the way.  Ten minutes later, the ticket inspector charged down the carriage. 

“Ticket,” he demanded.  I reminded him of my story and our agreement. 

“No. No. That’s not right.”  His brow furrowed and deepened.  It was as if we’d never spoken.  He ordered me to pay a fine.  After pleading for leniency, without success, I paid the “unofficial” fine (the fine ending up in his back pocket).

I switched to general class at the next station.

Escalating Misfortune

Packed worse than a Delhi traffic jam, the coach smelled of sweat and hard work.  Sighs from hundreds of tired bodies troubled me, raising questions about the state of humanity.  I stepped over people sitting on the floor, asking them to make a little space for me to stand.  No one moved.  Finally, I got angry and shouted at two poor people to make a standing place for me.

I’d already been standing for almost two hours.  That's when I'd heard the strange sound. The young Punjabi boy yanked the emergency chain.  The train came to a halt. 

I stepped down from the coach and into pitch darkness.  Within seconds, there were heavy footsteps, and a policeman rushed forward, fierce like a lion, “Who pulled the chain?”

I stayed quiet, hidden in the dark. 

“Who pulled the chain?” The policeman roared.

I stepped forward.  “I think someone has fallen.”

“Why would you think that?”

I explained the strange sound and empty space left by the coach gate.  

“Come with me!”  he boomed.  The policeman, myself and a few other passengers headed back down the track.  As we walked, the policeman waved his torch to and fro.  He asked questions while doubting my answers.

About 100 meters down the track, we spotted a shadow swaying near the back of the train.  We rushed forward.  Bent over and moaning, was a young man, injured.  As I eyed his torn, blood-stained clothes, I thanked God that I took part in stopping the train.  If we didn’t discover him, how would he have survived the dark night in that forest area.  

The injured boy slowly said,  “I fell down due to sleep.”  He belonged to the Bihar, the State of Good Brains, often referred to as a paradise for the intellect.  He needed instant care and support.

The policeman apologized for doubting me and commended me for my work.  He took the injured boy into another coach for treatment and directed other passengers to provide me with a seat.  I found a corner to sit in.  

Soon the train gathered momentum, and we were on our way.

Is There a Reason Behind My Misfortune?

No more lamenting.  Good hormones flowed inside me.  I thought about life and humanity.  All that “bad luck” led me to stand in that very spot, at that very time, wide awake, to hear a strange sound that helped save a young man’s life. 

I realized I needed to change my thinking.  From that day forward, I accept the bad incidents that happen to me in a positive way, and I try to find the reason behind such misfortunes.