I reached the railway station fifteen minutes before the departure time. I hastened to locate my seat and occupy the same. Even though our compartment was a reserved one, sometimes passengers without reservation find their way inside and often try to finagle a seat by requesting fellow passengers, paying a little extra to the Ticket Collector and through other means. People travelling in Indian Railways are accustomed to such 'arrangements'. Mine was an overnight journey of approximately 15 hours. I started from Guwahati and my destination was Tinsukia.
I placed my luggage, consisting of a suitcase and a small bag, atop the bunk. The window seat was empty, and I made myself comfortable there. I looked at my watch. It showed twenty minutes past 3 p. m. Still, ten minutes at hand. I looked out of the window. I saw people hurriedly trying to locate their respective position and seats in the train. Gradually all the seats near me were occupied. I found myself in the motley society of a newly married Assamese couple, a Maharashtrian, a Bengali and a tribal man.
The train was to start any minute now. "Sir, Sir," I heard a voice calling from behind. I turned to see a good-looking youth outside the window. He asked me, "Sir, are you going to Tinsukia?" I replied in the affirmative. "Sir, can you kindly do me a small favour?" I remained silent. He continued, "My brother and his family are in Tinsukia. Tomorrow is my nephew's birthday. He is very fond of toy cars, and I have purchased some toy cars for him. I will give you my brother's phone number. You can give him a ring, he will come and collect this packet containing toys from you." I agreed to accept the seemingly innocuous packet. The man appeared relieved, handed me the packet, thanked me and soon made his exit.
The train started moving slowly. Slowly but gradually, it was picking up tempo. "Are you acquainted with the person who handed you this packet?" the Assamese gentleman broke the silence, pointing to the packet. I replied in the negative. In a flash, I witnessed a dramatic change in his face. He became extremely excited and began posing queries at me, "Do you know what you have done?" Without waiting for my reply, he continued, "You have put our lives in danger. Who knows what the packet contains?" He continued further, "Every day in the media, warning are sounded not to accept gifts or any luggage from strangers. Often they contain bombs which explode killing all people around." He seemed very nervous.
Indeed, it was a turbulent period for Assam. Bomb explosion in trains and other places were a regular feature. Several dreaded terrorist outfits, consisting mostly of educated youths, have created a fear psychosis amongst the general people. Against such a backdrop, the reaction of my fellow passengers was but natural. It now seemed to me that people no longer trusted a stranger.
Soon, other fellow passengers joined the Assamese gentleman in the castigation fest, taking turns chiding me severely for my folly. One of them suggested that I pull the chain and stop the train. It seemed to me to be a hasty step. Somehow, I couldn't make myself believe that the good-looking youth from whom I had accepted the packet was a terrorist. The burly tribal near me, in an uncontrolled fit of rage, shouted, "Sonofabitch, I will throw you out of this train. My God, if I die, who will look after my wife and my 3 year old son?" The Maharashtrian came to my rescue. He said, "These are all the designs of the Almighty. We are just mere pawns here. Who knows what he has in his mind for all of us?" At this, the tribal was pacified a bit but still he was simmering. A little later, we decided to inform the Ticket Collector about the packet and seek his advice about subsequent actions. But the Ticket Collector was no where to be seen.
Some of the passengers suggested opening the packet. The real contents of the packet would then be revealed. Some others protested. Some suggested that the Rail police ought to be informed. They have devices to detect and diffuse explosive elements. Even the Rail police were not immediately available.
The atmosphere was really charged now. One can almost feel people taking deep breath all around. An eerie silence prevailed. Was it the lull before the storm? Well, I don't really know. My fellow passengers were becoming very restless. No immediate help was visible. It was then decided that the packet would be opened. But who is going to bell the cat? The God-fearing Maharashtrian volunteered to do the task. As he began unwrapping the packet, the Bengali babu quipped, "Suppose it is actually a bomb, and it is touch sensitive." Suddenly, the atmosphere became extremely charged up. Only the pounding of a few hearts could be heard for some time.
The packet was opened. And hey, what greets our eyes! It is a car with a remote control. And what is that? Yes, a small transistor.
Transistor????
We remained transfixed. Everyone was speechless. Only the sound of the speeding train and the occasional whistling disturbed the silence.