The Great Indian Tatkal Experience

Act 1

7.15 AM. The parrots and cuckoos had started calling, and the morning newspaper had just landed on our driveway, but the house was still slumbering. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and cursed, “Pick up, you lazy ass!” I waited six rings, put the phone down and went into the kitchen for coffee prepared by woken-solely-for-this-purpose-mum. Typically, my phone rang, out of earshot, and I missed my friend’s call. After playing cellular hide-and-seek for a wasted 10 mins we finally got to one another.

Me: Dude, you do realise we don’t have tickets for our Chennai-Nagpur train tomorrow?

VK: Of course. Tatkal only, no option.

Hm. Should we postpone? … Actually, no, scratch that. Fine. Tatkal. The window is 8-10 right?

Yeah. Cool, I’ll come over to yours at 8, I’ll bring my laptop as well – you have wi-fi right? We will need at least two log-ins to get the tickets.

Ahem… dai, this is why I called at 7.15! I told you yesterday – no internet at home, broadband’s down. I’ll bring my laptop to your place, that ok?

Nope.

Eh?? Wtf? Why not? No… don’t tell me….

Yep. Sorry. Power-cut times at my place are 8-10 this week… Hold on, I got it – dude, we’ll go to your dad’s office. You have two computers and printer, and all that. Sorted.

Gaaaahhhh…nope. Dad’s office is in the same zone as you – 8-10, no power. Haha. I would laugh if this weren’t true.

Nice. Kinda screwed. Ok, internet parlour.

Yes – only option. Aiyo, been ages since I used one! I think there’s one nearby, though it may not be open this early. We might have to scout. Listen – I’ll get my bike, and pick you up in 10 minutes at the end of my street.

15 minutes.

Machan – its 7.30 now. By the time we find a parlour and log-in, it will be 8. We need to be in the tatkal booking system at 8. Cya in 10, bye.

Fine, fine…goodness! Cya.

Act 2

 7.45AM. I dodged early morning joggers, cyclists, cows, proud Tata Nanos and water tankers, with VK riding pillion, looking out  for an internet cafe. My hunch about the first one was right – it was closed. In fact, very permanently closed. VK said he knew one near our ice-cream/chat shop guy, but we didn’t find any there. We drove through the streets behind the temple, but no luck there either. We finally found a shopping mall on the main road and were directed to an internet parlour. Yay!

Me: Hahaha, ahhh, hilarious.

VK: Crazy fellow, what’s up?... Oh.

Hehehehe, the irony! A candle-lit, power-less, internet parlour. We are soooo screwed! Goodbye holiday plans!

Machan, chill, let’s find out.

VK (to a forlorn, sleepy looking man who looked every inch the owner of an internet parlour facing a power-cut): Excuse me, when does the power come back on?

Internet guy: 8 am.

VK: Phew! Thank goodness! It’s…7.52 now.

Me: Good, I need sustenance. 8 minutes – there’s a chai-wala next door.

5 minutes, a chai and a banana later…

Dude – we better go – there’s a queue building to get into that parlour!

Gosh, looks like all of Kilpauk has descended here.

Yeah – it is tatkal time after all!

Act 3

With trepidation we join the ridiculously long queue to get into that tiny parlour. We look around, spot two free PC’s and grab our seats. One, in a corner, barely has place for me to stand, but what the hell, needs must, and all that. Sigh of relief. We boot up our computers, and fish out our IRCTC (online Indian railway reservation) log-in IDs and details.

VK: You have a credit card, right?

Me: Yeah, yeah… borrowed dad’s  – first let’s get into the IRCTC system.

Me: Yes! Woohoo!

VK: Booked??

Haha, very funny. But I have logged in, and selecting trains. You?

Not good. My… computer….just crashed.

Whaaaa? Crap, I’ve been logged out. Must be the whole of India booking tatkal tickets right now. Gaaahh.

Random Guy (sitting next to me): Hi. You are booking tatkal as well?

Me (glaring at potential competition): Yes. Where are you going?

Random Guy: Bangalore. You?

Me: Ah good. Nagpur. Have you logged in?

Random Guy: Yeah… ive even selected my train, but the page is stuck on the user details form.

Me: Ahhh. You’re ahead of us! VK – we need to catch up.

VK: Yeah, yeah. My computer’s still booting up. Give me the passenger details, meanwhile.

10 minutes of silence punctuated by mouse-clicks, frantic keyboard taps and frustrated sighs.

Random Guy: Damn. I got to the payment page, entered my card details, and it crashed!

Me: The computer?

Random Guy: No, no, the internet. Have to log in again now. Torture. You? Any luck?

Me: Hmm, I keep getting stuck on the user form details. Its already 8.20, I don’t even think there’ll be any tickets left after 8.30.

VK: Boo, yeah! Sid, credit card, quick! Grand Trunk Express okay with you?

Me: Dude! Yeah! Hell, I’ll be happy if we can get there sitting on the roof. Stud! You got it? Here, take card, go, go go!

VK: Passenger details, check. Card details, check. Proceed to payment. HDFC Gateway….waiting…not looking good…yeah! Done, and done! Four berths – Grand Trunk Express, tomorrow evening 19.30, booked…. I. Am. The. Man.

Me: Awesomeness! Yeah! (to Random Guy) Any luck, mate?

Random Guy: What, you guys got your tickets? Man, no, I had to start all over again. Bangalore sector is the worst.

Me: Yeah – Bangalore is terrible. Keep trying!

VK and I make a victorious exit and head straight to the nearest restaurant for a well-earned breakfast of coffee and masala dosa. We had just emerged victorious from a trial that millions of Indians go through everyday, a trial where victory is by no means guaranteed, and on which holidays, businesses and journeys depend – the Great Indian Tatkal Experience.