Across The Railway Lines

Another long leave of absence from my blogging obligations and while the blogospher breathed a huge sigh of relief, my blog has been clamoring for attention that I just don't have time to give it. The whole week has been crammed with tests and assignments and then some more tests. I got some respite today after mailing in one assignment so here's what's been going on.
Every grandparent has some story of how they had to travel miles to get to school or something along those lines, well now I have mine. A five minute walk from my PG, on the way to the bus stand is Whitefield railway station. To get to the bus Stand, we have to cross the tracks and although there isn't much traffic on the tracks, our timings generally coincide with those of the trains. In the morning at about 9, I see the Bangalore to Chennai train pass and catch it on the way back 12 hours later. This being India, nobody on foot actually waits for trains to pass while the crossing is down, generally we run to cross the tracks before the train does and though we cross while it is still at a sensible distance, it's kind of unnerving to cross while a speeding locomotive hurtles towards you, screaming it's high banshee wail. A few days ago, o the way back, we were standing next to the tracks waiting for a train to pass when to our horror, we found another one bearing down on us on the track behind us. Although there is enough distance between two sets of tracks to allow you to stand without being hit, it's not a particularly comfortable experience having two trains run on either side of you.
And that's about all the fun we get to have here, like I mentioned in a previous post, I'm in the institute during daylight hours. The one day a week we get off I spend nursing a hangover from Saturday night, so playing chicken with trains is my only source of entertainment.
Oh yes, once a week, on Fridays (ie. today) the people who manage the Tech park, organize some sort of 'entertainment' for the many thousands of people who work here. In the open area reserved for us smokers, a stage is set up and someone will come and do something. The first one I saw was a bunch of school kids singing, then came a DJ, then some trick cyclists and today two Irishmen (he he it sounds a bit like the beginning of a joke.. A Dj, a cyclist and an Irishman walk into a bar...). All except for the cyclists were received with a very lukewarm response (what do you expect from software professionals?). The two Irishmen who are at it as I type are performing what is allegedly 'traditional' Irish folk music, interspersed with incredibly bad humor. After reading Spike Milligan i was of the opinion that the Irish were inherently funny people, but it seems that either I am wrong or these two specimens do not adequately represent the Irish. The little on-stage banter of theirs that I caught was unfunny to the point of being painful.
For instance while talking about some instrument they were using;
"And this (he pulls out an over sized mandolin) is a Bouzouki, a traditional Greek instrument that is also used in Ireland... not to be confused with a bazooka"
Bored titters from the audience.
"It's not loaded"
Silence
"And this is a Harmonica... this is not a bazooka either"
Dead silence
He went on like this for quite some time, grasping desperately into his bag of jokes, hoping something funny would eventually pop out. He only stopped when he had halved his already minute audience and shattered my stereotypes.
You see why I have to resort to playing with my trains?