The journey in train…

“Garam Garam masaaledaar daal, Kacchi keri wali chane ki daal…!” The shout with an idyllic smell rushed me back to life, when I was sleeping on the upper berth of the train, like a corpse. My mind was agitated with a little choler. Actually, I hate it when someone awakens me from the sleep. The train was shaking as it does threaten to derail. Then, it was an oscitance, which made my neighbor passenger yawn.

It’s always a thrill to travel by a train, especially during the holidays, I solaced my heart. Such things are very normal when you are travelling in a long-route train, especially without reservation. “All izz well”, I encouraged myself to endure such shocks. After all, “Aise bade-bade desh me, aisi chhoti-chhoti baatein to hoti rehti hai…”

The destination was far enough and I had no option except indulging in the fantasy. The coach was full of noisy, crowded humans. The waste-papers and the wrappers were laid like snow in Antarctica. To see the broken emergency windows, improperly dangling chain-pulling handles, folded and forcefully tucked chocolate wrappers in the mesh behind the upper berths was not new for my eyes. The vulgar writings and nonsense drawings, the names of persons written with lissome curves, either on the walls or seats, are always fun to see.

Suddenly my eyes were spellbound to a duo of execrable kids, with a couple of stones, to produce melodious music, in their hands. Their shrimpy pants and torn long shirts couldn’t remain beyond my attention. Their dusty brown hair, yellow teeth, lacerated sleepers and torn shirt-pockets made my heart miserable. Obviously, it wasn’t the first time I was watching such sight, but, this time my heart was a little bit more threatened. They were singing a song in each compartment and then demanding for a petty of money. “Is this the situation that prevails in most of the rural parts of the country???” The thought distressed my mind. “Is that the age of these poor children to earn, in such deplorable way??”, “Don’t they deserve even a prosperous life??”, “Is this the time for them, to hold stones, for a trifle coins, instead of the marbles to play…!!!” The questions were screwing my mind.

On the spur of the moment, my eyes fixed on another handicap teenager cleaning the floor, with a great difficulty, with his own t-shirt. I couldn’t continue my gaze with his pitiful eyes. I sighed. All I could do was nothing except giving them some coins from my pocket. I had to give an I-can’t-help-anymore expression.

I just tried to relieve my mind. I began to think about some happy-unhappy moments during my journeys in the train, but the shouts in the hoarse voices of the persons, on the back berth were forbidding me from that. They were bullshitting on some political topic, which was completely out of my understanding. The lady, sitting on the front-below seat was cumulatively staring at me with a don’t-look-at-me manifestation. The another disturbing factor was the loud noise of a song, ‘Sheila ki jawaani…’, played by some youngster in his China mobile.

I continued my conversation with myself, obviously with a great trouble. Sometimes, the train becomes the reunion place for long lost friends. Sometimes, the train becomes an unforgettable place for them, who find their life-partners in the train (I’ve plenty of examples.) Sometimes, you discover the ways of how-to-initiate-talk-with-an-unknown-girl here. Sometimes, you find out the ways how-to-ignore-nonsense-talk with some tattling persons. Sometimes, we meet the persons who never buy the newspaper themselves, and always ask it from someone else. There is also no inadequacy of the person, who is used to ask ‘which-station-came’ again and again. It’s also very common to endure some people who have developed a great interest in wrangling for a little space on someone else’s seat.

Sometimes, we have to endure some persons, who will bring us headache by their soporific talks. Sometimes, we have no one around us to cut the time. Sometimes, the rush is too much, that one has to put his luggage on someone else’s feet, and one cannot find space even to raise his hand to itch his neck. The ability and the swiftness, by which a tea/vada paw vendor finds his way in such rabble, always fascinates me.

Sometimes, someone find an unknown friend, who tells one to buy the tickets, and then they travel together and after that chatter; they may become very close buddies. They may even remember each other for their whole life.

While I was theorizing all these things, a bang made me awaken. It was nothing else, but a blasting clap of a eunuch. Then I had to think about another exciting factor, one can easily find in the train, the eunuchs. Their man-like look, dark colored lipstick, gruff voice, almost counterfeit tone of speaking and their ability to slap anyone very easily can make anyone frighten of them. I was too. But suddenly, I remembered a conversation of my friend with such a eunuch, which brought a little grinning on my face. The conversation was:

Eunuch: ‘Abey chikney, chal nikaal naa…, kya bhav kha raha hai…’ 
Friend: ‘Mere paas kuch nahi hai…’

Eunuch: ‘Mere paas bhi kuch bhi nahi hai…!!!’

Just before he/she (no idea) reached to me, I reached my destination. I was just happy, as I had not to face him, at least that day.

One more important thing I forgot to describe, I like the most about train, is to look the world out of the window. The meadows and farms rushed past amaze me a lot. The window in the train is not an ordinary window; it is a window to the richness and diversity of India. Of course looking out of the window has other advantage; it tells you that you are getting closer and closer to your destination.

How vegetation, terrain, people change effortlessly as one passes through the country in a train is an amazing spectacle. Nothing provides a more complete panorama of India as the window of the train does. To understand what real India is, I reflect, one must travel in a train.

Finally, I must give credit to that special friend, who also came in my contact while travelling in the train, and on whose suggestion, I have written about my experiences in the train, only for my time-pass.