Trip with sister: The bribe

My application got rejected and I got pointed at the other hall where, as I got told later, I could still purchase a standing ticket. Hm…Spotted by an observant man, I was walked to the next hall. He pointed at the longest queue and cheered me with the fact that there I could get a standing ticket for the train that leaves in 40 minutes. Hm..

Baisab, the queue is too long and I need to get a sleeper. A berth, you understand?
He points at the sign ‘International Tourist Office’.
It is closed, baisab.
Yes, closed, madam.
So, how can I get the ticket? A sleeper ticket?
A young men takes over – You go with me.
Where?
To the office.
Where is it?
Close, very close.

He walks ahead, clearing the way from people and vehicles. We are obviously on the way to some tourist agency. I keep questioning him, yet realizing it is pointless – he would say “yes” to anything for now.

I need a sleeper ticket to Amritsar. Will I get it?
Yes, mam, any ticket.
I need to catch the soonest train – will I get that one?
Yes, mam….

The agency turns out to be just across the road from the station and its quite decent and welcoming appearance gives us a hope, however little… Two chairs and a glass of water appear out of nothing. The man sitting at the table to whom we got entrusted gets a sheet of paper and starts his unhurried questioning. Although the guy who brought us, has already briefly explained the matter, the man starts with the options which he knows do not suit me, so that just to emphasize the value of the options that do.

Where do you want to go, mam?
Amritsar
When, tomorrow?
(still patiently) Now, baisab! when is the next train?
Golden Temple Express has just left and the next one is at 8.40 pm.
Ok, I need that one.
He requests to show our passports and starts writing down our names.
Russia, mam?
Russia, Russia.
(already worrying about the physical appearance of the ticket obtained in such a dubious way) Baisab, I need a proper ticket, will I get that one?
(absolutely positive) Yes, mam, you will get a ticket.

His colleague is dialling a number (I can hear “Northern Railways welcomes you” and then the sound of hold) and is asking me on the way

Mam, a/c?
Baisab, sleeper.
2nd a/c?
Sle-e-eper. Cheapest possible way, baisab.
Mam, a/c is good…
..But expensive, nights are cold, why do we need an a/c baisab?

Not at all inspired by my answers and realising that the prospective deal is not that close as he thought he replies (still, not having engaged in any conversation with ‘Northern Railways’ that is keeping him on hold).

Then, no seat, mam.
(pressing for creative thinking) Baisab, I need 2 sleepers for tonight train to Amritsar – how can I get those. You know how to help me, so please, do.
(as if it occurred to him just now, in fact just a worse-margin option for him) You can take bus. Sleeper bus with a/c…
(bringing him on the track) Baisab…
Mam, listen, bus with a/c costs 1200..
Baisab, no! I need the cheapest option, do not offer me a/c.
Ok, non a/c bus is 450. I leaves at 9 pm and I will get you an auto that would bring you to the bus stand.

Realizing that the whole bus matter may become even more dubious that the train one especially for the price that was not possible to double-check, I say no and the enthusiasm of the baisab entirely vanishes.

We leave the agency laughing at the sort of the initiation we, total novels in the Indian railways s matters, had to go through.

Back to the current booking hall we find an enlarged queue to the second sleeper counter. I ask my sister to take her queue and me myself start wandering along the other less busy counters while keeping an eye on the yet empty window with the sign ‘Supervisor’. I am not yet sure what I am up to – try to beg or try to bribe. Anyway, just these two scenarios seems to make leaving Delhi tonight possible at all.

The clarity does not make us wait. I am approached by a man acting as if passing by, yet have been carefully observing me for quite some time.

Where are you going, mam?
To Amritsar
You need to go to the ticket counter 30.

Going through the non-viable option is a good trick extensively practiced by many of those. Ok, let us play this.

Long queue baisab and I need to leave now.
You can go there and get a standing ticket.
I need a berth, a place to sleep, that is the thing. How do I get a ticket?
Well…

A small talk, necessarily preceding the matter was played well by both sides: here we have established that I cam clearly willing to get a ticket by any mean and that he can sell me one – by one mean or another.

Well… if you want to get a ticket from the black market…
(as unconcerned as if some metaphysical concept is discussed) Ya, but how baisab?
Well, I can ask for it if you are willing to pay 300-400 extra for each ticket.
(realizing the deal is close, yet some effort is still to be taken) Oh, baisab, but I go by the cheapest fare, my ticket is Rs 350. How on earth can I afford paying double?
But you know, mam, it is undertable money – I have to pay undertable to this and that one.
Yes, baisab, this much I understand, but what can I do?
Yes, mam, you have to pay extra.
Well, I am willing to pay extra. But how can I pay that much? Baisab, when you see a rich tourist, you can ask for that much. But when you see such a poor one who travels by the cheapest fare, how can you say such things?
How much are you willing to pay?
Baisab, 100 Rs extra for each ticket – that much only.
Ok. I will go and ask.

I am secretly celebrating the start of the process, yet worrying as of how it would go. He gets back in a moment.

1000 Rs for both tickets.
850, baisab.
Mam…undertable money, cheaper not possible.
(I was wondering for how long I would be able to carry on and would not run out of arguments) Baisab, I do not have more – 850 is a good price.
Ok, 950.
Baisab, 900 and chalo.
Mam, 950 only, I have already made a concession
Baisab, I have made a concession up from 850, so you make a small one and we both are good. 900.
Ok, I will go and ask.

He leaves and I feel relieved – we both know the price is fair and the ritual of bargaining was properly carried out. He comes back in a moment with the final yes. Very well familiar with the routines he picks up my application form for the names and the journey details. He leaves, I am wandering around, my sister is still in the hardly moving queue. He comes back and brings me to an empty counter, yet a bit aloof from it and points at it.

Now the ticket would be made. I will first pay my money and only then charge you. Just relax and cool down. No need to stay in the queue. He means my sister.
(showing some local expertise) Paka-paka, baisab?
One hundred twenty five per cent, madam-ji.

I am calling my sister, and we are standing off the queue talking to a friend of our baisab: which country, mam, India and Russia are like brothers, and how long in India and where all going.

Very shortly our baisab is gloriously back: a pink manual ticket with a proper stamp of Northern Railways is in his hands. He reads some suspicion in our eyes and goes through the ticket to explain the journey details. He walks us (joined by the young man, the one who brought us to the agency first – the market appeared a monopoly, actually) to the departure schedule to confirm the platform number and gives me 100 Rs.

(smiling) You are well prepared, baisab. I give him 1000 Rs.

We are walking to the platform still not very sure about the nature of the ticket, yet majorily relieved that we have got one and happy in the ignorance as of what awaits us later this night.