2:00 am, city of Gorakhpur
“You are the right one
I was just wating
you to look at me”
Afterer more than eight exausting hours from bus to bus, crossing from Nepal to India, we arrive to the city of Gorakhpur. We are back in India, and our luck doesn’t wait much for rememeber it to us. All what got phisically damaged on our first time in the country comes back to its previous state: my bag is broken again (thanks to that taxi driver we didn’t even wanted to hire) and Victor’s screen mobile phone is smashed for the second time by an Indian’s ass.
Now we only need to go to the railway station to know if there is a train which goes to the city where our flight is going to departure in five days.
After asking here and there, we get to the ticket office. Five minutes of discussing later, the tickets are in my hands. 1914… no, this has nothing to do with the date of the beginning of the first world war, but is related to something as long and conflictive as the historical conflict.
The number means the amount of kilometres between this city and another one 350km away from our final destination.
Well, it could be worse, isn’t?… no, there is no worse case scenario possible right now. The ticket is only available in general class, which means being packed like cattle in a moving metallic compartment for who knows how many hours.
As always, the best option is to take advantage of being tourist and trying to find a good spot in another coach like second or sleeper class. But this will be something to be worried about later, we need to find a place to wait for a few hours until the train arrives.
The chosen location is the waiting room of the office workers, a room with coachs and charging spots. And many mosquitoes, but we can’t help it. The hot seasson is getting closer and everywhere you go is full of this bloodsuckers.
After putting all our belongings in an empty corner, we sit on the seats, among the officers, trying to spend a relaxing time in the place. With my headphones in my ears I press the play button and an random album starts to play.
The drums define the rythim. They are followed by a shy bass which produces some low tones and a synthetiser with powerful mediums. A mysterious and intriguing atmosphere envolves the ambient, letting you get sinked in the moment… until a sensual electric guitar starts to change everything into a seductive melody.
Suddenly, something pulls me out of the moment. I can see how one of the workers next to me is looking to himself in the screen of his mobile phone through his front camera. And the device is turn from time to time facing our location. His eyes try to find the right moment so we don’t notice anything.
“You are the right one..”
In just a few seconds, the discret action turns into a desperate try with the guy’s arm lifted aiming at himself. Is he trying to normalize the situation? Does he think that we will not notice anything like that?
“I was just wating…”
Amazed by this guy’s tools for achieving his goals, I decide to do the same but with my arm closer to my bended legs. The only way to fight fire is with more fire.
“…you to look at me”.
As soon as I aim the camera to my face, he happyly starts to touch me for taking my attention. His mobile phone is now inclinated in a 45° angle, Instagram style, with all of us in the screen.
He completed his objetive… several times. After taking a long look of the douzen of pictures and adding them the apropiate filters, we are in another WhatsApp profile picture of another Indian.
Now we only need to wait for four hours surrounded by blood and privacy suckers. They are not going to have enough with some blood drops and a few selphies…