On tracks of hope: A standing ovation to change

ON BOARD KALYANI-SEALDAH LOCAL: Like its notorious history of late arrivals, this train came late on Wednesday again. By almost a full 10 minutes. Long enough for panic. Long enough for passenger unrest common on suburban routes. And long enough to pass out in sauna summer. But none happened. No one even seemed to notice. The second, minutes... time itself belonged to Mamata Banerjee, the "do-gooder".Alcohol is banned on station and trains. But if there were some who wanted to uncork the bubbly, Didi surely would have forgiven them. True to the spirit of the occasion.
This train, which arrives in Barrackpore at 2.55pm every day, picks up a crowd of schoolchildren, college students and some officegoers working "unearthly hours", would never come on time before Mamata became railway minister. On some days, it just wouldn't come. The next local 15 minutes later came packed to the brim, leading to the regular shove, push (and sometimes punch) drill that even the little schoolkids became skilled at. Thus unfolded the nightmare on one of the busiest suburban routes, without relief and without an end.
Then, one day, it was over. Like many other problems the unharnessed change winds blew away. It took a political churning here, a new government in Delhi and a UPA ally doggedly loyal to its Mission Bengal', to ensure the down Kalyani local came on time. At least so it seemed on the suburban stations of Barrackpore, Sodepur, Belghoria and others, which see millions commute on local trains everyday. Didi earned many a silent blessing 57-year-old Ashok Sen can now find a window seat, 28-year-old banker Shoumik Ghosh is thankful his shirt isn't creased by the daily struggle and little Deepika, who studies in class 1, can read Alice in Wonderland' on her way home.
On Wednesday, in the middle of the state's own version of the Green Revolution' writing its penultimate chapter, the Down Kalyani's late arrival was an ill-timed aberration. But no one cared. Mamata's voice seeped through the speakers of a Blackberry-like phone on which someone was watching her victory conference. It was close to 3.30pm and the train was nearing Dum Dum. Didi was promising more change. Passengers, bound to her by that kinship, pressed closer to the phone's owner for a final look before stepping off. Many stayed on the train, huddled around the mobile. It was perhaps the first standing ovation for Mamata, thanks to the fact that the train was late and there were no seats.
"It's her time, Mamata can do no wrong," claimed a co-passenger, who seemed in his mid-30s. That, indeed, was the overwhelming opinion. The anti-Left undercurrent remained as strong as ever. But those "reluctantly pro-Mamata" had turned "willingly pro-Mamata".
As the train sped towards Sealdah, Kolkata got noisier. Chest-thumping, drum beating Trinamool supporters doused generously in green abir were everywhere. "City of joy," murmured an old man in white beard that gave him an M F Husain look. "Pore bujhbe (they'll realise later)," he uttered a little louder, caustically. "Bamera amader bondhu chhilo (the Leftists were our friends)," replied Sen, peering up from his newspaper. "Kemon jeno bodle galo... shob shesh (something changed... it's all over now)," he added with a sigh.
It was a lament for a long lost friend. Or better still, a message for Mamata. Change must always be for the better.