The Man from Madras Musings can hear you all groan “Oh, no, not another Egmore story.” But let MMM assure you that once you have read it your knotted and combined locks will part and stand on end like quills on a fretful porpentine, as the Bard said. That by the way is something that will never happen to MMM, for what with working for the Chief on a permanent basis, he (meaning MMM and not the Chief) is challenged in the matter of hair.
But to get back to Egmore. The other day MMM had to go to the station, this time not as a passenger but to meet someone who was arriving. The person to be met needed assistance in walking and that made MMM’s alabaster brow furrowed. There are overbridges to negotiate and the platforms are long, uneven and often dirty.
And so it was a pensive MMM who crossed the stately portals of Egmore station. He did not pause to admire the stained glass (once multicoloured but now stained a permanent betelnut red) or the corbels or the staircase, all of which, had MMM been differently situated, he would have spent time on. He was, after all, there with a purpose. MMM went straight to the office where, he was told, he needed to book a wheelchair. It was one of those places that could have passed for a morgue, for it appeared at first sight to be filled with winding sheets. The wheelchair booking office, it transpired, also doubled as the laundry collection area. The staff was friendly enough and MMM was assured that all he needed to do was to give a call on the wheelchair-in-charge’s cell phone as soon as MMM’s friend had alighted from his train. The wheelchair, MMM was given to understand, would be there in a jiffy.
And so off went MMM to the assigned platform. A load had been lifted from his head. He could not help contrasting it with his younger days when elderly relatives had to suffer the indignity of being transported in baggage trolleys, pushed by cursing porters. The train arrived. The person whom MMM had come to meet duly alighted and staggered off to a nearby bench. MMM made his call. The voice at the other end said that the wheelchair would soon be on its way. A stage wait occurred. MMM made a second call. He was informed that the wheelchair would be sent as soon as the previous hirer had returned it. And how long would that take, asked MMM. The voice had no answer. After some hesitation it replied that the entire station had one solitary wheelchair and it was anybody’s guess as to when it would be returned to the booking office. There were, added the voice most helpfully, ten trains arriving in that one hour and so the wheelchair was in great demand. It could not have been more sought after had it been a minister’s chair.
By that time the platform was pretty much deserted, barring MMM, the elderly passenger and a pile of luggage. The phone rang. It was the voice again. A wave of hope surged in MMM. Could the wheelchair have been returned, after all? But that was not the case. The wheelchair would take quite a while, said the Voice of God, but MMM could avail of the next best thing. The voice said that it had organised for a porter to bring a luggage trolley in which the passenger could be moved. It had, said the voice, the added advantage that the bags could also be loaded on to it. And then having added smartly that MMM could settle directly with the porter, the voice went off, no doubt to spend the rest of the day folding bed sheets.
In the distance MMM could see a porter wheeling a baggage trolley. He was weaving his way uncertainly towards MMM having, no doubt, spent a considerable portion of his anteprandial earnings on an aperitif or two. His vocabulary was rich judging by the way he addressed a stray dog that happened to cross his path. MMM looked at the elderly relative, who just had a resigned air. There is little further to be said, other than the fact that the journey was by trolley, pushed by a cursing porter.
This seemed to be one of those occasions where the ‘worst possible scenario’ happens to be enacted in our lives. In any case, at least you got some assistance and given the situation that probably was something that you should be thankful for…
Sriram,
While all of us undoubtedly sympathize with your experience and some of us recognize that we are not that far from being the aged relative (pushee instead of pusher in the wheel chair) here is yet another perspective:
In the western world, one can imagine the same experience, say in the monstrosity called OHare airport (or Heathrow, Frankfurt, or Brussels), a key difference would be that you would have spent the entire time talking to a machine instead of a human being with the same end result.
A porter in the western world is also unlikely to take responsibility for the aged relative for fear of lawsuits if something untoward were to happen.
Girish
@Girish I appreciate your sense of patriotism in defending our stations by comparing them with western infrastructure. This is exactly the kind of attitude which is ruining us. Western or Indian how would you like to sit in a luggage trolley with a pile of luggage and being towed by an unplasant people. Is it so difficult to have a dozen wheel chairs in one of the largest stations of one of India’s largest cities? Why do we need to compare with some western airport for this (FYI: I have never had trouble getting a wheel chair in JFK / Frankfurt/Heathrow or Kansai and the person does it as a service with a nice big smile)
@Girish, I agree with what Arun has said in his reply. Your reply simply doesn’t seem to agree with the fact that it is infinitely easier to arrange for more wheelchairs and other such amenities in a station which sees as much passenger traffic as Egmore does.
Sriram,
Not a pleasant experience at all, either for you or the poor passenger.
Yes, the station should have provision for a dozen wheelchairs, considering the demand.
Better still, as in all international airports, instead of a luggage cart for human transportation, a passenger conveyer shuttle with benches to sit on can be provided in railway stations. This way, the return (or not) of a lone wheelchair can be dispensed with.
Indian international airports seem to be doing okay on wheelchairs. As soon as they see a senior citizen come out of a plane, a couple of them ask, “wheelchair madam/sir?” I’m glad that so far, I have been able to just thank them and walk on. It irks me though to see a passenger jump into one, even though she seemed to be doing fine with mobility up to that point!
In India, it pleases me no end when there is provision, smooth operation and lack of misuse of any amenity! I can even burst into a song and dance on seeing such a thing happen, I’d say 🙂
I bite my tongue for making an insensitive statement 🙁
I should have worded it differently: for those who cannot walk the long distance from the train to the car or auto, a passenger conveyer shuttle in place of a luggage cart can be used and wheelchairs for such passengers can be dispensed with.
How about all the wheel chair-bound people? If they do not travel with theirs for some reason, of course they will need one at the station! There better be at least that one wheelchair (no, more) for their use. They can be kept in a room close to the platforms, ready to be used without any delay.