Hanging on in quiet desperation is the UP way

Douglas Adams, wherever he is, will be pleased. His memory is being propagated on the Earth in ways unlike anything he will have remotely imagined. After surveying the cosmic muddle that he commented on, when he gets tired of seeing sights like deep thought, when he turns his all seeing eye on to the much maligned Earth, he will find a giant monument to him erected in a place he probably never visited. It is the state of Uttar Pradesh in northern India. It is the only place, apart from Krikkit to be enclosed in an envelope of Slo-time. For the uninitiated, Slo-time is an envelope within which time proceeds at a slower rate.
To give an instance which demonstrates that time in UP seems to remain at a standstill, I'll take the following example.
I was coming from Hyderabad to Kanpur yesterday. I was boarding the train at Warangal. The train was scheduled to come at 9:22 am. When it came into the station, I glanced at the clock in the station. I was astonished to see it show 9:22. That level of punctuality is not expected in India. My hopes of reaching Kanpur on time were cruelly killed the next morning, when the train groaned into Kanpur Central three hours late.
Those three hours started when the train crossed the border of the Slo-time envelope (read UP border). This envelope's existence is in evidence each tortuous minute you spend in UP. The key to this slo-time is the word "bhaiyya". Each time when some UPite starts saying "Arre Bhaiyya" (Oh brother - A very weak translation) in that long drawn out drawl, you know that time has slowed down. When you are hurrying to beat a deadline, do not ask a UPite when the train will reach its destination. He will say "Aaramse aur chaar paanch ghante main pahuch jayega" (It will comfortably reach in 4-5 hours) After five hours of waiting, when you ask him again, he will say "Aaramse aur do teen ghante main pahuch jayega" (It will comfortably reach in 2-3 hours) After three hours, when you ask him again, he will say "Aaramse aur ek dhed ghante me" (Same as earlier with 1-1.5) and so on, ad infinitum. "ek dhed ghanta" "poun aadha ghanta" "paanch dus minute" (1-1.5 hours, 15-30 mins, 5-10 mins) the infinite series goes on, deadly in its assurance of convergence, equally deadly in its denial of redemption. After infinite repetitions of these platitudes, what sticks in your mind is that "Aaramse pahuch jayega" (It will reach comfortably) is the only thing he is sure of and you are not so sure of.
To return to my journey, I woke up and sat near the window, shivering from the cold. A train pulled in on the track beside ours. I watched in shock as an old man opened his window, thrust his head out and proceeded to release a stream of red liquid in a leisurely manner. As in a Matrix moment, time stood still as the red parabola stood, perfectly poised like a cobra ready to strike, as I instinctively shifted to a crouching position. Abruptly, a red stain appeared on the window whose existence I had forgotten. As I considered the coincidence involved in this occurence - my waking up a few minutes earlier, my feeling cold enough to close the window moments before the other train comes by, I felt that we are blessed to have a state which offers such contemplative moments.
The surreal procession continued with the next train that appeared out of the mist like a specter. I squinted for a moment to confirm that I was not dreaming. The train had bicycles hanging out of alternate windows. Any passenger just waking up would go right back to sleep if he saw a procession of cycles going on at window height. My belief in my sanity pulled me through that one. That convinced me that UP is a timeless, mythical land.
The sign that you've reached UP is the presence of shifty eyed characters hawking Gutkha and the reassuring sight of people with tattered shawls wrapped about their heads, tapping a powder in their palms for a long time and tossing it into a corner of their mouth. Do not think that this is the fault of poverty. Even people travelling in AC compartments, the supposedly affluent class, seem alike.
Back to my journey. After alighting from the train, I take an auto to my institute. Even the most resilient person will find his will strained by the journey. (I don't mean UPites) As I survey the unhealthy medley of autos, bullock carts, horses, two wheelers, cars, trucks, walking people congealed into one disgusting mass smack in the middle of a junction, I sit back and make myself comfortable. No moving for atleast half an hour. To my astonishment, the driver takes the auto right through the center of the mass. I see the cause of this jam, an auto which has paused in the middle of the road, waiting for its passenger to get its driver some Gutkha. As we lurch forward, our valiant surge is cut short by another jam, caused by a bullock cart driver's urge to cross the road and beat a couple of trucks. Talk about unequal contests. I am passing through a modern day dystopia. It is the wreckage of a city, doomed before its conception to hold the "Arre Bhaiyya" quoting people of this world who will make it worse with their lack of any idea about time. As I pass through this crowd, the lyrics of the song One by Metallica come to my mind -
Darkness imprisoning me
All that I see
Absolute horror
I cannot live
I cannot die
Trapped in myself
Body my holding cell