Good things come to those who wait. Except at Karjat Station, where those marking time are rewarded with an overcrowded and poorly equipped train that is always 20 minutes behind schedule. Consistency is wonderful but consistency in tardiness is an art form. The boy (DO) who boarded the train after the Vada Pav mob had munched their way to a state of uneasy somnolence was exhausted but happy. He'd been on an all-day hill trek with friends. Now, DO was headed home and not picky about how he got there. While the bogie's walk-through area wasn't the only available space on offer, the thought of being amidst a cacophonous orchestra of wailing babies and hyper-aggressive adults shivered his timbers. The slightly less ghastly alternative was the common area, next to a morose, pickle of a guy in a striped blue shirt who at least seemed knowledgeable on the benefits of deodorants. However, DO was vary. A strange, new species of human being was taking over the country (and o