ELECTIONS '98
COMMENTARY
SPECIALS
INTERVIEWS
CAPITAL BUZZ
REDIFF POLL
DEAR REDIFF
THE STATES
YEH HAI INDIA!
ARCHIVES

Excuse us, we are busy!

The 5.48 pm local, a Borivili fast, gathered speed and lurched on. Passengers, even those who were seated, swayed from side to side. "Excuse me," muttered some of those who had dashed against those standing.

But the commotion had no impact on the four or five people who were seated in one corner of the compartment. Oblivious to everything else, they were playing cards. I think it was rummy, with two packs of cards. One of the players was standing, but even in that uncomfortable position, he focused his attention on the game. Even after the train had reached Borivili, the game continued. Scores were tabulated, checked and rechecked and finally the fivesome dispersed to their respective homes, planning for the next day's game.

The card players's total indifference to what was happening around them was unique. They were men, I am sure, who had problems at home and at their workplaces. They must have been worried over promotion and increment chances, inflation, college admission for their sons and daughters, health problems and so on. But for the hour-long train journey, all these were forgotten as they focused on the cards.

Perhaps, it is one way to ignore the agony of commuting in Bombay where one train meant for 1,800 passengers carries thrice that number. It is always difficult to breathe, and sweat pours down the bodies. Sometimes, the card players would have no seats, but they would have the game, standing. It is an amazing performance. Try shuffling the cards, putting them on top of a briefcase held intact by one of the players, choosing the trump, making crucial moves and then noting down the scores in a small notebook, all the while being jostled by fellow travellers.

This is what I call commitment to the game of cards! Somehow or the other, I was never much of a card player. In my village in Palakadu, it was made clear that cards were meant for the senior citizens. The dozen or so seniors of the village assembled daily after lunch and played cards till late evening. There was just one break when they dispersed for tiffin.

I used to watch them play '56', a game with two packs of cards. The Jack was the most powerful of the pack, followed by the 'Nine', then the 'Ace' followed by the 'Ten', the King, Queen, Eight and Seven. The 'trump' was used effectively by the players who were all above 65. They brought with them boxes filled with paan leaves, supari, chuna and chewing tobacco. The only times they got up during the game was to spit.

Tempers flared quite often during the game. If a player bungled and put down the wrong card, his partner had some strong words for him. The losers had to put, as a symbol of defeat, two cards behind their ears! The winners chortled in delight, and we, the youngsters joined in the fun.

Of course, elders frowned upon youngsters' playing cards, but our parents were an exception. Father found time hanging heavily after retirement. Then, one day, out of the blue, he suggested we sit down and play cards. Normally, we played '28', a toned-down version of the '56', using a single pack of cards. Mother, surprisingly, took to the game fast and was the first to arrive at the table, after finishing all the chores. She often blundered, but was good-natured that her partners always forgave her! We played for about two hours, when I had college holidays.

For several years during my early working life, I forgot all about cards, except reading about them. Agatha Christie's Cards on the Table fascinated me. Her ace detective, Hercule Poirot, solved a murder committed during a bridge game. He did this solely by talking to the four players and studying the bridge scores!

My second association with cards began when I found that the father of the girl I wanted to marry, was an expert card-player. He was a near-professional and made a packet most of the time playing in one of the leading clubs of Ahmedabad. This money was spent in buying goodies for the family. His daughter, who was to become my wife, was quite a player, from her school days. Her expertise in rummy was much appreciated.

During our belated honeymoon at Chorwad, a sea-side resort in Gujarat, we found we had plenty of spare time. We began playing cards, and after around 100 games of rummy, the score stood at 100-0 in my wife's favour. I knew I was no great player, but was I so bad? Whether she had good cards or not, she invariably won and was several steps ahead of me. If I needed just one particular card to win the game, she would hold on to it and never let me have it.

These days, we still play rummy occasionally, during long train journeys. But the results are still the same. My wife wins all the time. My two daughters play other versions of cards, but I just sit and watch. Somehow I can never whip up the same kind of enthusiasm for the game, like those commuters in the suburban trains. I used to envy James Bond, who always excelled in cards and defeated all his opponents, even when they were financially backed by the KGB and other 'evil' organisations. But then, one always envy 007 for several of his 'unique' achievements.

Tell us what you think of this column