Train Journey


As usual it was quite crowded when the Jayanti Janata came to the station. Lots of people trying to get in and lots to get out. All of them with huge packets, and boxes, some filled with coconuts, rice, bananas , mattress pushing and pulling to get in and then to find the reserved seating area. Wailing babies are the most irritating, some of them hold on to their little cookies and cry with their eyes all red and nose running. Once they get to their seating area there is a bustle again to push the luggage under the seat or to dump them on the top berth, this also creates a racket if there happens to be someone sleeping up, and the bag is thrown on top of them. Quite a hilarious scene to see a much irritated oldie getting up to scream and yell pushing away the heavy bag on his head. Right before the train starts moving again some older women on the platform wipes the tears away and lovingly tells their family inside to take care and write once they reach their destination. They hold each others hands through the train window pushing the poor soul sitting on the side of the window and then the train starts moving again “ koooooooo chu chu chu”.

Then there are the little chai wallas jumping off the moving train like rats trying to get out of a house on fire, the door is closed again by someone who came out of the stinky toilet and the train is well set on the trip to Bombay.

Traveling by second class on bharatiya railway has always been my favorite way to travel. It is like watching a movie for three whole days, drenched in sweat and soot and stinky by the second day. But the smell is often flown away by the speeding train and the stink is no longer a stink when it is a mass of people stinking in unison. I had learned to and even started to research on the different varieties of human small, oldie smell, young cute smell, baby smell, women smell, regular men smell and then there is the beggar smell which indeed is quite distinctive. The toilet smell in the train is the most indescribable of all, the smell of filth and poop and pee all mixed together. UUUUHHHH, that is the one thing I hated, using the stinky toilet, can’t avoid it for three days. I always planned ahead though, medication for diarrhea and UTI was always with me, and I would need it once I reach Bombay

“ mol engotta”

Ouch, this oldie is trying to make friends with me, might as well act rude to keep him at an arms length, or else he will ruin my movie , for three whole days
“Mumbai”

“Ottekko”
then he turned to his plump wife and said, “girls these days, traveling alone for 3 days to Bombay, well we should blame these parents, no concern for safety.
Then he turned back at me and said
“Don’t worry we will help you out”
Oh no, Oh no, I don’t’ need any help, just leave me alone
I pulled the muscles on my face to make a smile; it does get hard at times. Pulled out a book from my stash in the bag while the oldie and family were busy rearranging their luggage under the seat so that everything could be squeezed in. Heard a crack inside one of the bags while they were pushing and he complained that probably it was the kuzhambu bottle, oh no, I don’t’ want sticky liquid all over my new ghagra, Jumped up and pulled out the bag which was beside the bags he was pushing and pulling and kept it safely under my own seat where there was some space.

The train was zooming past, The lush green land, shy baharatapuzha where water plays hide and seek with land, the little children waving fiercely at the train, the cycle wallah slowly moving away, the railway crossings, the houses with women washing their laundry and getting along with their day, the cute teenager who tries to wink at everyone, the jobless villagers sitting crouched up on temple premises the life going on. God’s own country, indeed it is

Train stopped at the next station, same scene as before, all the pushing and pulling starts again, the little boys running around with hot tea and coffee, the coffee tastes awful, so I always try to stick with tea, If I am lucky I can catch someone with elaichi tea which tastes so much better, but they don’s scamper around yelling elaichi tea, maybe it will take more energy and will give them a sore throat by the end of the day. Thankfully all the berths around me are taken except one, so the families are moving away to other parts looking at their tickets and looking at berth numbers, can you find 33, now why would they put 34 on other side, I can’t believe it, I see a girl around my age with a baby few months old, this is what amma was talking about “reproduction” which is the job of girls.

This time I wasn’t lucky, did not get the elaichi tea as I had hoped, and gave a wry smile and 5Rs to the little boy who was selling, who seemed happy.

The train gave a little shudder and passed gas, chooo. Now all the chai wallas, dubbah wallas started jumping out. Women wiping their tears, men massaging their chests, the college kids winking at me who are happy when I wink back and in seventh heaven when I wave. Frustrated idiots, I think. Heard amma saying in my head, now why did you need to wave at them, heh, why??

Train started again and all the hustle and bustle started to die down, everyone seemed to be settled once again. The wailing baby has started to sleep with his mouth open, looks cute, maybe they are not all that bad. Could never stand babies, whaa whaa whaa, well they say India is overpopulated, they should have an anti baby campaign instead of the regular family planning triangle.

The green of kerala was soon vanishing, the arid lands started to appear, mass landscape with a huge rock in the middle, dusty mountains, miles without the sight of a single soul, ravines and creeks that may have been filled with water once upon a time and railway crossings with no one to wait behind.

“Orders for dinner” orders for dinner
A man with khaki uniform came by with little chits for dinner.

“What do you have for dinner?”

“Regular meals, biriyani and idlis”

“I will go for idlis please”

Paid the 10Rs and got the chit and confirmed the station where the food will be delivered. The uniform went by once again yelling “orders for dinner”

“Kando, they have sent this girl without food even, so sad”

Somehow I felt it necessary to defend my parents, told them that I chose not to take the food as I like the food on the train

A look of total disbelief spread across his face, he shook his face

Oh well, he can think what he wants. Maybe he can think that I ran away from home, or maybe even juicier that I am meeting my lover in Mumbai, like in the movie Bombay. Maybe we can have a song and dance sequence outside the chatrapati shivaji terminal. This guy can be one of the extras with a smirk face.

I brought my face back to the book, the letters making the dances, story like a movie show once again.

I have to pee, I am going to hold it as long as I can, Made sure that I have the medication handy in my bag, will have to start maybe by the evening. “Krishna Guruvayurappa, shakti tharene”
I can hear the rattle of human voices , different languages, Tamil. Malayalam, kannada, Telugu,all making an aviyal together. People going up and down the aisle again, a guy selling the latest magazines coming by, filmfare, nana, Tinkle, time, India today. Bought an India today and a film fare. Always fun to see how is dating whom and predictions on when they are going to break up.

The dry dusty air is hitting the face. The old lady with a kind smile suggests that maybe I should close the window as the air will make a mess of my hair. Who the hell cares, I am after all not a beauty queen to start with.

Train slows down once again, it is around 6pm. Coimbatore station is big and there are a lot more vendors jumping in and out. Not a lot of people to get in as this is a kerala boggy. Hopefully the seat and berth next to me would be empty, but that is not what I was told. Oh well, I pray that the person who was to fill that berth would miss the train, an extra seat is a luxury these days. I see someone running into the train, with a big bag. He got in, looked around and confirmed that the seat number is indeed 45, oh shoot. But hey, isn’t he cute, now we are talking.

I acted as if I did not see him, looked away, but made sure that I comb my hair with my fingers and also wiped the soot from my face with my little hankie. Thanks amma for reminding me to take the hankie like proper girls. The cutie looked around and sat beside me, He smiled at me< hurrah. Maybe I do have a scoop for some romance before getting back at the hostel, or maybe who knows this is the guy I will elope with or even better I can tell my dad, I have found the man of my dreams, big time. Rein your mind, he has just smiled.

I acted as if I didn’t care who was sitting beside me. He himself seem to know the tricks of the trade and he also started to read a Time magazine, UUhhhmmm, has some class, at least he cares what is going on in the big wide world

My bladder is calling again, I wish there was a diaper that I could wear just like the astronauts, who cares if there is gravity in this planet; it is indeed an inconvenience to go to the toilet. But this time I have to, I get up gingerly, wipe my churidar down and say excuse me coyly. I would make my amma proud if I go this route, I am acting like a real lady for once.

It is always hard to use the toilet with one hand holding the nose tightly. Thankfully there was some watery liquid soap in the little container there. In my hurry to act like a lady I forgot to take my towel and soap. Washed my face properly, looked in the mirror and told myself that I am beautiful. Some one has to say it ,if no one else will I will. Wiped the water off on the bottom of the churidar, noone will notice it. I have special churidars to wear on train, dusty colored, dark blue color which will look fresh even if I wore it for seven days in soot.

Walked back to my seat and the Mr. Handsome looked up and smiled. Wow , he is something to talk about, Have to describe him when I get back to the hostel. All the girls will be so jealous and will swoon at my description. He even has nice teeth. He looks like aravind swamy at certain angles. Came back to my seat like a Bharatiya naari without even touching his shoes, he has nice shoes too. Started reading the book again, this guy is not making any attempt to talk, maybe he is the shy type. Come on man we have only another day and a half.

Dinner was delivered from a small station, could not read the name of the station as the lighting was bad out there. The idlis with watery sambaar and chutney, can’t have amma’s idlis for the next eight months, who knows if I can go for the next vacation, will have to finish the thesis . Mr.Handsome is not eating anything, good time to hit him

“ Aren’t you eating anything”??

Oh No I had my dinner around 5 today, that way it is easier than packing it”

UUhhhmmm, clever too

Are the idlis good??

He is taking the bait , good, this trip will be fun

“ The usual, something to eat”

He goes back to Time, I lean over and see that he is reading on the conflicts in Israel. Time to show my GK skills

“ Sad eh, what is going on in Israel”

“ Very true, it is unbelievable that a section of people will be punished time and again by the world “ we go on to discussing the Israel politics and Palestinian agenda, much better than talking of our lallu yadav. Amma, for once my interest in world politics is helping out, maybe you will get the son in law of your dreams

Soon there was the hustle of people trying to get to sleep. The oldie was looking around as if to ask for permission to open the berth out, I washed my hands and by the time I came back everyone else had already climbed in. Oldie asked me whether it was okay for me to have the berth facing Mr.Handsome. Of course, I can look into his handsome brown eyes and slowly fade to sleep.

Said good night to handsome eyes and soon it was next morning. The clamoring of the chai wallas woke me up. Mr. Handsome was already up on the other side , slowly climbed down, I should have woken up earlier to get a reasonably clean toilet. Searched for the brush and paste and grabbed the soap and ran to the toilet. The burly bearded guy gave me a look, the look that we talk about in the hostel. Gave the return look back. He turned away. After 3 people it was finally my turn, OOOOOHHHH, They have to invent good diapers.

When I came back Mr. Handsome was buying coffee from the teenager,
“ You want a coffee “ he had already bought one for me.
I hate coffee, but will I tell him that, Ooh No

“Thank you” again like a good girl. Amma I am finally getting it. No sarcasm, no Vikata saraswati as amma says

While sipping coffee the vision outside is flying behind, fast . Trees like a line, bent, everything looks two dimensional
I haven’t got anywhere with Mr.Handsome. Amma, if I don’t act fast the concept of son in law will remain a dream.

: are you going to Mumbai too”
“No Pune , I am a major with the army , am going to Khadakvasla, ’

I can see Kitty parties and republic day ceremony in my dreams. Maybe I will be the widow receiving param vir charka for his contribution to war. Chi.., I am not even connecting and am dreaming of his death

“Where are you off to”

“Back to my hostel in Mumbai, doing masters “

That is nice, Huh that is nice, what is that supposed to be. Maybe amma is right , men like brainless bimbos. Well I will say no to paramvir chakra and will announce at the venue that I denounce everyone who refuses to accept women who like to keep their brains in tact

Mr.Handsome gets up and goes over. I look out. Little train stations, people crossing bridges, farmers working in the fields, sunflower fields, laundry on top of the houses being pulled by the wind, life goes on as usual. I see Mr.H sitting beside the door through the window, maybe I can go over and do a Titanic like stint out there, but hey this guy definitely is not flirting. What a bore.

The salad wallah came along. I love salads on train with the kala jeera and namak and the cucumbers. Ordered a plate, the oldie does the tsk tsk with his tongue and darts me a sympathetic look. O h well he can think that I am an orphan. The salad wallah mixes the salad with his dirty hands and passes the plate on to me, another 8rs. He gave a spoon with the salad, who eats salad with a spoon, maybe he ran out of forks as usual

Mr.H returns to his seat
“ Did you want salad”
He nodded to say no. Oh come on honey, paramvir charka in waiting.

I ate the salad, maybe I can chuck lunch today and loose some weight. Amma has fed me real well this vacation, having a couple of marriages to attend did not help either. The wedding feasts are so good, I did not give ear to amma’s complaining to everyone around that I am refusing to get married ,and the loud suggestions from everyone that the bride is much younger than me. So what.

Afternoon was spent talking about khadakvasla with Mr.H. He talked about the big campus, the security outside, the beautiful landscaping, the army school inside etc. He did not talk about his family, so maybe he is alone. Hurrah

Decided to read another couple of chapters of the book. Mr.H was now interested in talking, we talked about books, he likes Toni Morrison, and he liked “Beloved”. Man am I In for a ride, I also talked about “ beloved” and “ bluest Eye”, never mentioned the fact that could not understand anything in Beloved. We both ordered biriyani for dinner, see we have a lot of similarities, we both like biriyani. Paramvircharka here I come. Maybe I don’t’ need to get it posthumously.

After biriyani, brushed my teeth and hit the berth. This time I could look at him properly, nice mustache, army cropped hair, long legs, long fingers, amma ,he is indeed the son in law that you always wanted. Woke up to the shudder of the train next morning. Train was stopped, It was only 3am. Mr.H was already up and ready. He smiled at me and said there was some minor delay and that the train will reach Pune in another couple of hours. Wow , I better act fast, told him that I might be coming to pune for some project work. He quickly wrote out an address on a sheet of paper and gave it to me. No interest to get my information. Look how things have changed, everything has to be done by girls these days. Well I am a feminist, right.

Gave him the hostel address and phone number and suggested that he visit me when he comes over to Mumbai. He says yes and invites me over to khadakvasla as well, he tells me in a couple of months his wife will be joining him again with the baby

What is that I am hearing, a shokaganam, sitar or sarongi making that nga nga nga voice, the last time I heard it was when Rajiv Gandhi was killed. My paramvirchakra vanishes into thin air, my announcement for republic day cannot be done, and my amma has lost her son in law once again. Why didn’t he say so right upfront.
He goes on to tell me that he had a baby about a month ago and that is why he had gone to Coimbatore this time. He goes on to tell me about his baby girl’s name and horoscope but who is interested, I look out, and train has started to move again

In two hours, we reach pune station, Mr.Idiot invites me once again to Khadakvasla and gets off the train. I hear sarongi in the background once again nga nga nga…….

I reached Mumbai around 12noon, an hour late, that is nothing. I am in no hurry, but this time I have a story to tell the girls, about a rich , handsome, brave army officer who will one day come over to the hostel to take me in his arms.



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