Salami slicing on a train!

Today’s Chair-Car trains are classy and swanky. Compared to the earlier “individual window” provision for a seat, coaches of the present day have windows spanning 2 seats. The window is as though stretched to cinemascope proportions. However, it is now a shared resource.

The moment you grab the window seat, you hoist the sunshade. The late afternoon sun streams through the window. As the train picks up speed, it is a pleasure to leave the teeming metropolis behind.

Just when the mind eases into a reverie, lulled by the images of a pastoral landscape, it is jolted by an unexpected interruption. The man from the adjoining seat pulls the sunshade down and shut off your vision completely. He makes a frontal attack, “Why did you pull up the sunshade? It is so bright outside!” You answer, “I wanted to look out of the window. I purchased a window seat just for that purpose!” He stares at you incredulously, on the verge of questioning- “At your age, you want to look out of the window? Are you a 5 year-old kid? Haven’t you looked enough?” However, he uses a different argument- “Anyway, it will be dark in an hour.” “That’s exactly why I want to look out now!” you counter him.

Not to be outdone, he says, “I get a headache when it is so bright and sunny”.  It is a tense standoff. Eventually, you arrive at a compromise- the sunshade is pulled down three-quarters. Both the parties are equally disgruntled. He mumbles that the sun is in his eyes. And as far as for you are concerned, all you can see is the adjoining track and a few pebbles, while the expanse of the sky and the distant hills are out of sight.

Curiously, you peer through the gap between the seats. Our man is watching some memes and reels on his mobile. You suddenly realize- "That’s exactly why he wanted the sunshade pulled down! It has nothing to do with his head or his ache. He wanted to watch his blessed mobile without the glare of the sun!" It irks you. What’s worse, he plays his mobile audibly. Every few seconds, his entire frame rocks, as he laughs uproariously.

The mind goes into a spiral- "Why can’t he reduce the volume? Why does he play for the entire world? What if everyone in the compartment did this- how cacophonous and noisy it will be?" You toy with the idea to combat his decibel level with something louder and eminently abstruse- perhaps Todi raaga alapana blasted at full volume!

One part of your mind pleads with you, “Leave him alone. After all, it is just a 5-hour train journey. Why can’t you put up with him?” The other half is cantankerous and itching for a fight- “No! It is a matter of principle- bad public behavior must not be condoned. It must be exposed then and there, for the well-being of society at large!”

The more you focus on him, the more he provokes you. Why does he laugh so much, that too every few seconds? What’s so funny? Eventually, you accost him, “Sir, can you use your earphones? The sound is disturbing other people!”

Surprisingly, no one else is disturbed, and the adjoining seats stare at you, as though you are the troublemaker. The offender looks back and grudgingly lowers the volume by a couple of notches.

All is quiet. 15 minutes elapse. You suddenly realize it is just as noisy as before, perhaps noisier. Without your notice, our man has slowly but surely cranked up the volume, back to the original level. You didn’t even realize it. This is exactly what “salami slicing” is all about. You grab land in such small portions; no one notices, and soon, a huge swathe of land is usurped.

You decide to use the same “salami slicing” trick. With your hand on the sunshade, you pull up the shade, one centimeter at a time. You must be careful- it has to be deft and unobtrusive. You can now see the meadows in the foreground and a hint of the distant hills. Some more centimeters, and the whole sky will be visible. By the time our man has completed watching his memes, the sunshade has been pulled up entirely!

Suddenly, he looks up and then back, his eyes bulging- as though, he has been caught napping and tricked. You avoid eye-contact. As the sun goes down, the hills are rosier. So is your face, now lit with a wry smile. It is a smile that arises from an impish delight- that you stumped him and paid him back in the same coin! And yes, salami slicing works on a train!