The journey to platform twelve and a half

My mother being a deeply religious person, wanted to buy some books on the topic. One among the best publishers in India are the Gitapress(originally based in Gorakhpur). Naturally she wanted to buy books of this particular publisher only. On a fine Sunday evening, we decided to get out and buy some Hindu religious books. But first we must find out our destination.

Papa calls their Delhi branch and asks where their outlets are in the city. Strangely, the nearest outlet for us falls on the New Delhi Railway Station, somewhere between the platform 12 and 13. I was amazed that they actually opened an outlet on the railway platform. I wanted to see this shop, but it was hard to get Rajiv out of bed. Rajiv has been breaking all sorts of sleeping records lately (setting a personal high of sleeping for 16 hours continuously). Such is the fear for Delhi winters in his mind. But none of us can ever deny mothers wish, there is a greater fear for her wrath.

We entered the railway station from the back side, since platform 12.5 would be near. Though I had come to the railway station a few times before, it was my first time entering from the rear side. I always wondered why the railway station of nations capital does not look even as impressive the one in timbuktu. But when I visited it from the rear side, I was introduced to the actual magnanimity of it. It was huge, and I wondered whether they built it this way to sustain the inflow of people actually coming to buy books from Gitapress.

After buying the platform tickets we got inside, and started to look for platform 12.5. It kind of felt stupid to come to a railway station for buying books. So I start asking even more stupid questions to papa, “where are we going to?”, “which train are we catching?”, etc. He plays along by replying Gorkhdham express. Suddenly the person in front of us turns around, and now he starts asking questions. “What time will it arrive?”, “How much more late is it?”, “Which platform?”.

Papa now becomes confused, as more and more eyes look at him with hope in their eyes. They felt as if, this man can give them the information, which even the station master couldn’t. The information which will get them off this railway station. The station on which they were stuck, and even they seemed to forget how many days had gone by. Some of them even seemed to have started their alternate career, in order to survive on the station. And then their were some who started living there. Strife for survival had made them forget their purpose, that they wanted to get somewhere. Understanding the gravity of the situation, papa did the best he can under the circumstances. He said an innocent, yet confused (as if he was one among them) sounding “pata nahi bhaisaheb!” (I also don’t know brother!).

We tacitly decide not to do any more stupid talk as we reach platform 12. Now we ask a simple question to the coolie “yeh Gitapress kaha hai” (Where is Gitapress?). The look on the coolie’s face makes us realize the stupidity of our question. Finally we spot the outlet, mummi is fairly excited. She starts to go through the books, and soon realizes she has forgotten her spectacles. Now she begins to hassle the shopkeeper, for what she wants.

It seemed the shopkeeper had attained a meditative state, he was beyond this materialistic world. Nothing seemed to bother him, not even mom hassling him for books. His authority on books published from Gitapress and the trains departing/arriving on platform 12/13 seemed unquestionable. After almost a hour, mom bought almost every book in the shop (Gitapress in extremely cheap). We ended up carrying more luggage (books) than some passengers.

Finally we got back home, and on the way back it occurred to me that Harry Potter must have had a similar feeling when he was going towards platform nine and three-quarters. Only difference being he went through it; and may some day I will also go through it.