Travel I had to..

Is this the same t-shirt and cotton trouser I use every time I travel? I make sure my slippers are always new. I can bet, my look on the face is the same whenever I travel, thinking of catching the train on time, number of pages I will read, kind of passengers I am bound to be with, and praying that there no new born babies !

Travelling, without fail brings you all those memories, good and bad, and one of the rarest of times when you are completely with your inner self, away from the routine life. It is just very peaceful.

This time too the destination is Howrah in Kolkata, but I have never travelled in this train before, geared with color often used by soldiers to fight in jungles. My stomach is churning and I feel low on blood pressure, this time I don’t have to fight with the vendor for the change to buy a mineral water and banana juice. Sugar makes you firm on your legs. I never quite understand the reason behind formals and cosmetics especially when you have to spend next 48 hours with the same set of people.

I find my berth after some memory lapse on how to read the seat numbers on a train. The lady beside me could not clearly pronounce words that she spoke, it sounded cute though. She was short, fat, with layers of cheeks. Her husband sat opposite to her, no different than how she looked. They could be misunderstood as siblings to an unknown. Her brother in mid 30’s with short trimmed hair wore a half sleeve shirt, comfortable cotton trouser and looked confident and concerned. His missing tooth in the front reminded me of that character from the movie Hangover. He laughed to glory without any hesitation of displaying the missing tooth. I was still observing my co-passengers, and a young lady accompanied with another young lady and a guy enters trying to settle down. The elder one guides her younger sister that her berth is at the top, and the guy pitches in with, “that is for sleeping, and she can sit down.” This was followed by that silent stare which echoed, “Why don’t you just shut up or I will kick you out of my life, my house, and you will die alone.” He obliged and kept shut, just trying his best to arrange her luggage, recharge the battery of younger ones mobile and wish her the best for the journey. She was yet to celebrate her 20th birthday. She had a dusky look, wore a red t shirt, a gold chain, red nail polish, maroon color handbag.

As we all settled down, I was happy to find that meals were included in the ticket fare, what kicked me was two litre of mineral water also a part of the fare. A Bengali co-passenger was quick in reminding me that I have paid Rs 500 more than the
usual rate of the ticket, he looked unsure if this excess cost was value driven.

I doubt if cancer inside her mouth was the reason behind those bulging cheeks. But, cancer was purely a case of ill luck for her. She was treated for a minor lump with a surgery, and a year later it developed into something gruesome. This time she was diagnosed with cancer. Her brother argued “I told you so,” and the famous doctor’s son was at fault. They were happy that the reports indicated her being normal and it was just a matter of time that she found peace in her mind. We all agreed to keep doctors at arms length and have a healthy lifestyle to avoid diseases.

Food served did not resemble with the lifestyle we agreed earlier. It was cold, and minutes away from being stale. Though we expressed our disappointment, we all relished gulab jamuns, silently waiting for it in another meal.

Young lady was a professional dancer, with limited interest in academics. She argued, fashion designing is her field, and since she did not fetch good score in her 12th, she was in the right path. Fashion designing was more to do with what you wear than what you read, she said. Peer pressure was evident in how she replied to all those calls, and was tired of explaining people to stop intruding in her life of fashion designing and low scores. I wonder what she thought before glancing through the chapter named ‘haraami’ from the book of short stories I was reading.

He was currently not working; he felt over worked after spending 25 years in United States and largely worked with Indian giant Tata’s. He sounded one of those caring person, a family man every girl somewhere dreams of. He did not allow her to eat spicy food, as it might affect the wound inside her mouth, also requested for less spicy vegetarian food. He was pensive relating one year average salary for a java developer in Bangalore to just three months salary in States, he hoped her daughter would do something meaningful before she was married. Since he lived in one of the tier-II cities, he planned to venture in real estate business, supplying raw materials to builders.

This was the first time I experienced flush working in the toilets of train. Defecating was less concerning this time; I knew I don’t have to sit on the heaps of dry waste stuck on the sides of the platform. This one had a lid at the bottom of the structure, which was supported by push buttons operated with and without electricity. The lid made way for all the waste cleaned with the pressure of the water, and closed after running for around 30 seconds. The noise created by the pressure of the water hitting the metal surface sounded like an alarm for the next passenger ready to occupy. I was also impressed with the huge mirror, and no hand made arts of cheap sex and sentences on the walls of the bathroom.

You will always find Bengali’s very loud in their ideas on politics and policies, most of them learn the art during their academic years in colleges. Though it took more than 30 years to allow a new Bengali woman and a new party to govern them, the change came, and everybody said, “We should give others a chance.” Time will say if it is right, but the moment just seems right for the change. Here we were discussing on how intelligence agencies have vested interest in online giants like Google and others. It’s an open platform of millions of database, and you can track possibly everything that sits inside those invisible wires like you can physically navigate in one of your libraries. Developing countries like India meant that many mistakes in the process of becoming developed leaving a good section of society to play the catch up game.

Here she was, trying to smell fresh at the odd hours of the day. Her maroon color bag surely had deodorants which I can smell even now. It is so much easy to take bath, and change your dress. But, all what matters is how when smells. She wanted to be lenient on those feedback forms on food and service, but she did write 100 words on what she wants to eat.

I could not complete my book of short stories on Mumbai, and I was approaching my destination, only to catch another train at ten past midnight. I bet I still had the same look on the face; I was getting ready to wait and travel. I was enjoying my time, the only time when I had not spent a single penny inside the train on food items. But, the young lady, with fashion and no tension on her head firstly gave Rs 20 to the food attendant; I too had to pay the same. This was followed by Rs 100 to the cleaning staff; I savored my moment by giving Rs 10. I did not have the courage to look at them, I think they waited. But I had to travel for another 12 hours.

Underpaid..

I am waiting at Howrah railway station in Kolkata, on my way to home, whish is also nicknamed as the “Chicken’s neck.” Got two newspapers to read, this time too the headline is about the Gorkha Janmukti Morcha demanding a separate state, two of their party members were killed in the protest, and they have called for an indefinite strike.

I am done with newspapers, and reading a book, the only time I get disturbed is by the people of all ages begging for money. I have not yet refused anyone, but I am running out of patience and also the coins. Giving away coins shapes my wallet, in a way it does not poke the bone of my butt. I am sitting along with other passengers; with a huge center stage; only to be occupied by a few street performers. Clattering by two children draws our attention, she must be using the same plate to eat; it is old, out of shape and no more in silver.

We have heard stories of non performance of Indian sportsmen in gymnastics and complain we don’t start at the right age. These two kids, around eight years old and her partner of almost half her age are setting the stage to perform. They hurriedly unfurl a plate, a saucer like utensil, two hats and an iron ring. As kids, we use to use such iron rings as wheels supported by a stick with a hook at the end. An arm length rope is stitched at the tip of the hat, and the boy rotates his head to make the rope go a full circle a number of times. He has a make up done to equalize their not so attractive dress. A four year old wears a black color moustache with the tip pointing towards the heaven, it looks funny, surely holds our attention. Girl shows her skill artistically, bending her body, and is able to support her weight with her left foot when she lands, and the boy rolls over on his head, lands trembling on his feet, reminding us of our childhood days when the playgrounds looked like a sea of grass. After a couple of bending and rolling, it is the time for the highlight show.

This time the iron ring comes handy; she flexes her hands, her hips, her legs, bends her knees and comes out a number of times through the ring. Now both aim to pass through that ring. Girl lies on her stomach, positions the ring on her hip, and instructs the boy to enter the ring. He crawls facing the back of her neck. At first attempt he hits his nose with the elastic band of her skirt, he retreads touching his nose with eyes closed, thinking what went wrong. All of us smile, but wanting him to succeed the second time. He tries again, this time his head gets stuck, between the ring and part of her butt. Her butt looks undernourished to the naked eye; does not have the privilege of a mid-day meal, and even if she did, her fortune that she was not in Orissa. He tries the third time now facing to his right, after a lot of struggle he is able to pass his shoulders, and his hip.

The entire show does not even last two minutes, but is able to bring a smile to dull looking faces. He gets a one rupee coin from me, one tenth of his demand, hurries towards all the passengers and runs to entertain the next group.