“Arrey Ladki, Jaldi Hataao”!

"Thum paagal ho?”

“I can’t tolerate these Bhais!”

The commuting crowd kicking their civic sense in thin air when they get in and get out of the train is an historical fact. What for? A SEAT.

One morning, when the train was approaching, people were berserk as usual. Daring such a hellish crowd, shoving myself with full strength, I was determined to grab a seat. Holding the metal bar with my left arm and resting my feet on the edge on the door, I struggled to push myself into the compartment. Someone poked me on my face. I doubled my effort to pinch her with my other hand. Oh! Where is my right hand? A fat lady was pulling along my hand with her.  

Aahh! One lady screamed.

“Why the hell are you screaming?” I mumbled.

 “Some ullus held my long hair and sari pallu as support to board the train!” she frowned.

 “Forget it. Get inside” I sniggered.

 God! Here I was, inside the compartment.

 The train started moving. After a while, the hell broken loose calmed down. As usual, standing and leaning against the barred and rusted window of the train, I studied the rows of passengers with all possible hairdos, dresses of all fashions, variety of lipsticks and other accessories. They were busy swapping gossips over breakfast, glossy film magazines and newspapers.

 “Will I ever relax like them in train? Why Not?” Closing my eyes, I started to enjoy a reverie of grabbing a seat some day until the shrillness of the entire compartment woke me up.

The train was almost empty. Where have these ladies vanished?

 They were mobbing near the door. Thunderous laughter. Ecstatic sounds. I cashed in on the opportunity to greedily occupy a seat before those mighties come. I stretched my legs as much as possible to sit verrry comfortably. I was gloating and looked at the door.

God! I held my breath for few seconds. It was Sharukh Khan – the ever-stunning star walking towards the seat amidst photographers, journalists and of course the passengers. 

Pinched myself. Clad in glittering black shirts and black leather pants with his onscreen look intact, he was expectantly at ease with lot many girls almost falling on him and the rest gazing him constantly.

 Failing to resist my curiosity, I asked, “Any shooting in train?”

 “No No. May be to promote Om Shanthi Om!” whispered a girl in faded jeans.

 Whatever it is, I was tempted to near him for autograph and exchange a few words. But my seat? So sticking myself on to the seat firmly, I passed my railway season ticket (that was the only available paper in my hand bag) for his autograph.

 Amidst busily placing his million- dollar autograph on all the possible places, shaking hands, hugging, giggling and conversing with everyone, the professional actor didn’t deviate from driving his point home – ‘watch OSO’.

 “You are soooo chweet and cool!”

 “Am your die-hard fan! Your movies are rocking”

 “Your six pack abs is the talk of the world”

 “I started liking Hockey because of your “Chak de”.

 “All my friends have planned to bunk our college and watch OSO on the first show first day of release”

Marathon adulations from his adoring female audience were going on and on. Attempting to avoid blushing unsuccessfully, he was with the behind – the - screen anecdotes and snippets of OSO. The ladies felt like Rani Mukherjee, Aishwarya Rai, Preeti Zinta, Kajol and his entire female leads in his movies.

However, the feel of Deepika Padukone, OSO’s heroine went to a die-hard fan, desperate to touch the star fell on him accidentally (!). The hero extended his arms to help her.

Adding further mirth, she startled the mighty Star by gushing, “Instead of Dhoni or Sachin, you should be made as our cricket team’s captain.”

 “Oh! Ya ya! India’s Twenty20 World Cup and their wins against Aussies in few matches were just because of your presence in the stadium. Elsewhere, they posed a miserable show,” announced another.

 “Yes yes. Where there is Sharukh, there is success” – everyone cheered in a unanimous chorus loudly.

The amused King of Bollywood would not have asked for more. May be never-ending serpentine queues to watch his forthcoming OSO would have come to his mind. Looking pleased, he tried to get up but obliged to stay back in the train for some more time at the request of his ‘devotees’.

The suave ladies but otherwise in train especially while boarding the train were beaming as if they had attained nirvana. Even Buddha would not have felt so after the enlightment at Bodh Gaya.

I wondered why in India hero worship for cine-stars is beyond the limit? They seem to be treated as godlike rather than being just entertainers. Is it because of an insecure feeling, which drives ordinary people hunt for hope among the stars?

What makes the viewers inhale the melodrama and extravagance of these reel lives of these stars? They want to walk, talk and look like their stars . The stars become almost their incarnation of gods. Devotees never fail to watch the movies of their cinematic gods again and again. Cinema is almost a religion in India and so is cricket. To uphold this national culture, I got up to enjoy the religious experience by shaking hands or conversing hands with Sharukh Khan, the demigod of contemporary India.

 Before I could near the star, a flurry of movement in the crowd halted my wandering thoughts. Strong pain in the legs made me realize I was standing for a long time. The mighties were giving a final touch to their already decked up faces. I could hear daily voices of fisher folk, “Machli ka Pani….” on the platform. It’s Church Gate station, our destination.

 May be some day I may get to sit or lie down or even to roll on the entire compartment?

Dreamily walking towards the bus stand, I saw the crowded bus, which I am supposed to board.

I got into the bus. No vacant seats at sight. Again in standing? Oh! Not again!

 My frustration came down hearing Chak de song by the passengers, that too, leaving their seats and rushing towards front seat. I greedily occupied a seat. However, what makes them concentrate on the front seat alone?  

 I gave a close glance.

 Hey! It’s our Cricket captain M.S Dhoni in the bus.

 Again pinched myself. Unbelievable!

 Yet another incarnation of God.

 And yet another drama started unfolding.