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Rajani Thindiath: Portfolio: Stories | Scripts | Series | Books

Gyblinns vs. Faeries :  Original Fantasy Story & Script: Was nominated in the Best Children's Writer category at the Comic Con Awards, 2014 ALIENS : Original Futuristic Sci-Fi Series Dreams: My World in My Hands : Original Fantasy story and script:  Was nominated in the Best Writer category at the Comic Con Awards, 2015 YogYodhas : Original Fantasy series based on Yoga and the ancient martial art of Kalaripayattu SuperWeirdos : Original Fantasy series about super heroes with odd powers Defective Detectives: Intruders : A humorous series based on two paranoid, bumbling detectives Defective Detectives: De-camped Graphic Novel: SuperWeirdos: Whoosh! Comic Book: YogYodhas 1: Warriors of the Spirit Comic Book: SuperWeirdos 1: The World's Gone Weird Comic Book: SuperWeirdos 2: Whizz! Whack! Whoop! Manikantan Has Enough :  Comic adaptation of a story for ICSE Coursebook 4 for Indiannica Learning Shakti—Tales of the Mother Goddess: Scripted two stories— Kanyakumari and Shasti...

10 Seconds


How long does a train halt at a local station in Mumbai? 10 seconds? 30 seconds?

And what all can you achieve in that time? Most of us lesser mortals would be gratified if only we could push our way in or out of the train, before it chugs out of the station. However, there’s so much more you can do apparently:

You can wait at the gate with a bag of coconuts [from Goa] in your hand, shove through the waiting public to get down onto the platform, reach your mother-in-law, switch bags [to take the one with the sweets from abroad] and then push through the crowd again to get back inside the train.

You can also, if you want, pass on an envelope. Seems simple? Not really, if the envelope happens to be the regular 4”x8” and the space it is supposed to pass through is the space formed by the latticework of the grill placed on the window of the train. But since you want to pass on this envelope to a colleague who’s been instructed to come on to such-and-such platform, at the south end of the train, at so-and-so time, failing is not an option. You fold the envelope lengthwise and fold it again and again and again, till it resembles a tube that could pass through the eye of a needle [only a slight exaggeration], never mind the state of the contents within.

And if you were really determined you could go and stand at the entrance when the train reaches Dadar [one of the most crowded stations] so that your mother can hand you a glass of milk. You want me to repeat that again? Yes, a glass of flavoured milk handed over lovingly in a glass tumbler. You stand there drinking your milk only to pause to look over your shoulder as your co-passengers yell ‘Lavkar, lavkar’ [Marathi for ‘hurry up’]. You look at them, grin in triumph and then gulp down your milk to the same chant. And then you finally hand over the tumbler into the waiting hands of your devoted mother, just before the train pulls out of the station.

Comments

  1. good one...was wondering what must have happened to the envelope...

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