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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.”