‘ Sir, wake up, it’s Victoria ’ some sort of voice-management, of course with due courtesy, and it banged on my ears again ‘ Sir? It’s Victoria, didn’t you want to get down here… ’ Fighting the universal conspiracy, I tried opening my eyes and listening to the conductor simultaneously, yeaah multi-tasking ! ‘ Oh, yeah, thank you! Thanks !’ a formal smile, rubbed shoulders (it wasn’t crowded, I was yet sleepy) rubbing my eyes I stepped down of the tram. “ Wooo….Man! Where I am? This is not Kolakata, forget it, this is not even India !” I stepped down apparently from Kolkata Tramway at Maidan near Victoria Memorial, but it wasn’t the same. There was no maidan , no typical Kolkata traffic, no Victoria Memorial and it was something else. Fishy! No it wasn’t fishy. I looked back at Tram, it wasn’t like Tram either. Highway 31 Bikers' Restaurant ‘ Have I had grass? No, neva! So, how did I disembark a metro when I picked up a tram an hour ago? ’ I
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