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Setting: Platform 7, early morning. Train to Delhi.

Platform loudspeakers occasionally crackle with random announcements.

Chaos level: Indian Standard.

Characters: Mr. Sharma – Middle-aged businessman, armed with a laptop and zero patience.

Mrs. Gupta – Seasoned train traveler and self-appointed expert on Indian Railways.

Ravi – A college student clutching a guitar and an AC 3-tier ticket that now feels like a philosophical joke.

TT (Travelling Ticket Examiner) – Confident, unbothered, and already resigned to his fate.

Vendor – Selling chai with the enthusiasm of a stockbroker during a market crash.

Loudspeaker – Occasionally interrupts to increase confusion.

Scene 1: Platform Pandemonium [Passengers stare in disbelief at a train that seems shorter than expected.]

Ravi: (checking his ticket) Coach B3… seat 45… Where’s B3?

Mrs. Gupta: (adjusting her dupatta) Beta, it must be at the end. These Railways people sometimes play hide and seek with coaches.

Mr. Sharma: (gritting his teeth) Madam, there is no end. The train ends here! They’ve forgotten the coach!

Ravi: (half-joking) Maybe it’s invisible AC. Climate control by imagination.

Vendor: (pouring chai) Chai le lo, saab. Garam chai. B3 ka gussa chai se thanda karo.

Scene 2: The Arrival of the TT

TT: (arriving with clipboard) Good morning, passengers. Welcome to Train Number 12345, departing shortly for Delhi.

Mr. Sharma: (snapping) Departing? Without B3?

TT: (calmly) Yes, sir. Railway management apologizes. Due to technical reasons, the coach could not be attached.

Mrs. Gupta: Technical reasons? Did someone forget to bring a screwdriver—or the whole coach?

Ravi: So what happens to our tickets?

TT: (philosophically) Sir, tickets are for your journey. Whether the journey happens or not… is destiny.

Mr. Sharma: (furious) Destiny? I paid ₹2,350 for this destiny!

Scene 3: The Collective Protest

Mrs. Gupta: (loudly) I’ve been traveling for 30 years! This is not Indian Railways, this is Indian Roulette!

Ravi: (grinning) Maybe they’ll attach the coach spiritually. Like Air India’s “virtual comfort” program.

Mr. Sharma: (dialing customer care) Yes, hello, IRCTC helpline? (pause) Yes, we are at the station. No, the train is not missing. Only our coach is missing! (pause) No, I don’t want to “rate my experience”!

Vendor: (to crowd) Arre bhai, ticket AC ka, seat general mein. That’s called reverse upgrade.

Scene 4: Loudspeaker Adds to Confusion

Loudspeaker: (crackling) “Passengers of coach B3 are requested to remain calm. The coach may be attached… at the next station.”

Mrs. Gupta: (sarcastic) Wonderful. We’ll chase our coach like a Bollywood climax scene.

Ravi: (strumming guitar) “Chhoo ke dekha, coach to gaya…”

(Passengers laugh despite themselves.)

Scene 5: The Great Adjustment

TT: (sighing) Please adjust in other coaches. Sit where you find space.

Mr. Sharma: Adjust? With what? There’s more luggage than people!

Mrs. Gupta: (resigned) Beta, in India, trains don’t adjust for passengers. Passengers adjust for trains.

Vendor: (smiling) Chai le lo saab. Free extra sugar for emotional support.

Scene 6: Philosophical Ending

Ravi: (sitting on platform floor) You know, this is so Indian. We buy what doesn’t exist, travel where we can’t sit, and still drink chai to celebrate.

Mr. Sharma: (taking a sip) Hmm. Tastes like government accountability—hot air and hope.

Mrs. Gupta: (smiling) At least the train came. Last year mine didn’t. I sat on the platform and called it a meditation retreat.

[Train whistles. Passengers sigh, laugh, and board wherever they can.]

Loudspeaker: (cheerfully) “Indian Railways wishes you a happy and comfortable journey!”

All together: (shouting) “We’ll let you know if we find the comfort!”

[Train departs. Steam, laughter, and disbelief linger on the platform.]

End Credits: “Based on true events. Repeats every festive season.”

Scene 1: Outside Muktsar Gurdwara – Early Morning

(Camera pans across devotees leaving their shoes outside the gurdwara. A pair of shining leather juttis sits on a red mat with a small barricade around it. Two constables stand beside it, sunglasses on, expressions deadly serious.)

Constable 1 (Balwinder): (saluting the shoes) Oye, careful! Don’t stare too long at them — government property!

Constable 2 (Harjit): I’m not staring, yaar… I’m just wondering… do we get shoe duty allowance for this?

Balwinder: Allowance? We don’t even get proper laces for our own shoes, and you want jutti duty bonus?

(Harjit sighs deeply.)

Scene 2: The Guarding Begins

(A devotee walks near the CM’s shoes.)

Balwinder (yelling): Oye, oye! Step back! This is restricted footwear area!

Devotee (confused): Restricted footwear? Bhai saab, I just came to find my chappals!

Harjit (chest puffed): Then find them from a safe distance. These juttis are under Z+ protection!

(Devotee slowly backs away, muttering “pagal policewale…”)

(Constables sit on plastic chairs beside the shoes, fanning themselves with their caps.)

Harjit: You know, last month I guarded a VVIP water bottle. This month — shoes.

Next month maybe they’ll post me at a toothbrush inauguration.

Scene 3: Passing Time

Balwinder: At least toothbrush won’t run away. (pauses)

Actually, these juttis also won’t… unless someone prays too hard for them.

(They both laugh quietly — then suddenly go serious again as a child runs past.)

Balwinder (shouting): Bacche! Side ho ja! One wrong kick and your future’s gone!

Scene 4: The Inspection

(An officer arrives)

Officer: Constables! Status report!

Harjit (snapping to attention): Sir! Both shoes safe and synchronized! No dust, no theft, no left-right confusion!

Officer: Good. CM sahib should be proud.

(leans closer)

Did you… polish them?

Balwinder: Twice, sir. Even the reflection of Guru Granth Sahib’s golden light is visible!

(Officer nods approvingly.)

Scene 5: The Twist

(Suddenly, a gust of wind blows — one jutti tips over)

Harjit (panicking): Code Red! Left Jutti Down! Left Jutti Down!

(Both constables dive dramatically to save it. Crowd watches in amusement)

Balwinder (holding the jutti reverently): It’s safe, Harjit. It’s safe.

Our mission continues.

(They place it back gently, then salute it like war heroes.)

Scene 6: CM Returns

(Chief Minister exits the gurdwara, walks toward the shoes)

CM (smiling): Ah, thank you, officers. I trust my juttis behaved?

Balwinder (seriously): Yes, sir. Not even a mosquito dared land on them.

(CM puts on the juttis and walks away. The two constables stand tall, proud)

Harjit (to Balwinder): You think next time we’ll guard the CM himself?

Balwinder: Why risk it? Shoes don’t argue, don’t tweet, and don’t transfer you.

(They both chuckle as the camera zooms out and a text fades in.)