Don't so-much admire the wrong parenting being parted to some dicky kid in the train birth opposite to mine by his dribble of a dad to put him to sleep around this time when our train is about to commence its journey. Remaining elements aren't that revolting. Cool, conditioned air through the vents of my 2-Tier AC coach to keep me cool, and clean white linen (with only a narrow possibility of transparent fluids smeared over) to cut my insinuations against the Indian Railways short. Hardly anything to motivate myself to be caustic. Hard days.
In my imagination, the only worth of such non-interfering, curtained nature of 2-Tier AC coaches is to push forward the amateur auteur pornographer cult, but I don't find these perverts traveling onboard either.
It is time that I write my fervid support and appreciation for TCS.
My previous train journeys over the past 4 days were more memorable, and - not coincidentally - were 3rd Class Sleeper coach affairs. Third Class Sleepers (TCS) serve as hatcheries to a lot of incidences, you see. Imagine something akin the concept of 'ideal conditions for life on earth'... this is what TCS provide when you are in the mood for travel. No sort of life could develop in cooled chambers anyways; perhaps AC travel is the same mortal instinct that brought about the concept of human cryogenics - preserving the body in sub-zero temps in expectation of exciting advances in the future that could make humans immortal. To put it another way: people try to preserve their living selves for their duration of travel (but alas, there's no correlation between traveling AC and a longer lifespan).
TCS (like the photo on the left) give one an unobstructed pan-sensorial view to the real India (which, not necessarily, is poor and mangly and below-poverty-line). On one hand, they don't completely isolate you from the bittersweet countryside, or force you to take in farts, belches, and aloo-gobhi smells that cannot escape elsewhere, like the AC coaches do. On the other hand, they don't submerge you in a cesspit of salty, sweaty, cramped, tobacco-laden, menstrual-blood-laden human odors, a bundle of theives and conartists, and undignified hours of travel seated on wooden benches, like the General Class coaches do (like the photo on right). They make travel cheap and manageable. Best of it is, that unless you're old and unable and excessively fat, you won't feel a twat's difference having slept 8 hours either place for at least 6 to 8 months round the year.
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