A serene train ride

This evening after many years, I travelled in the route that used to be frequented by me. A corner window seat that was opposite to the direction of the train's journey was waiting for me and I could not be more happier. Feeling the gentle breeze on my face, I resolved to 'just' feel the present moment without resorting to sappy memories of erstwhile train rides. I did succeed albeit for three stops and almost by reflex the breeze whispered about the happy and not-so-happy moments spent in the train.

Sometimes you have so many fond memories that you literally feel them jostling with one another while one smart Charlie tumbles off and takes you on a tangent. I wonder which one it is: The train rides that patched up quarrels over long phone calls or the rides where a nagging junior would want to gossip about teachers and I would want to close my eyes to honour the lazy lull of the languid weather coupled with the slow motion of the train or the dreams of carving a teaching career while doing research or trying to rush to the one empty spot of the compartment before anyone even spots it or getting lost in the smell of food that wafts across the compartment or just trying to inhale the smell of the jasmine that a flower-seller hawks.

I smile and wonder how I cherish those moments but don't miss them. I don't even yearn for them and realise that they were wonderful no doubt, but belonged to a time then. I did fondly inhale the mixed smells of flowers, food and faint perfume and got down with a smile when the train reached my stop. I stood and watched till the train disappeared and knew that it will be a long time before I get to ride in a train again.

Readers, how long since you travelled in a train?

Breaking the illusion of romantic train journeys

Off late I have come to accept the fact that I find long train journeys boring and that I prefer to sleep rather than cozy up to a book. Well, a few years ago, even two years ago, I wouldn't have accepted the fact of boring train journeys but now I realise that I better burst my self-made bubble. I suppose even age has something to contribute in this aspect. There was a time I swore by train journeys. And, sometimes, even now, the appearing of a blue coloured train at a distance with its smoke and sound makes me nostalgic for leaving to some place and just the imagination of curling up with a book sends spasms of excitement through my senses. Alas! the thrill lasts only for a few minutes when the distant approach of a train creates a frenzied longing - after the train arrives at the station and stops - I feel a bit unsettled to leave the comfort zone of my home and take on a  journey.

But mind you, I still enjoy travelling to new places or perhaps I think I do. Sometimes I wonder whether I allow certain lies to fog my mind and knowingly I submit myself to these grand illusions. These lies are always so comforting. They allow us to cheat ourselves and in the process we are made fools by our own thoughts and emotions.

Coming back to train journeys, I wonder whether it is the length of time or perhaps the closed confines of an AC chair that bores me. Maybe long journeys are better with hoardes of relatives and cousins who chatter away to glory. No, I have also travelled with many people but still find myself longing for the journey to come to an end. And books! I do like them but I prefer sleeping to reading while in a train. The moment I open a book, my eyes feel heavy and my senses dulled. I think that my body is weary and I shall sleep a bit and then get back to reading but that seldom happens. I sleep like there's no tomorrow and the book/s remain untouched through the rest of the journey and I make a mental note to not carry any books the next time. But as you suspected, I forget the promise, carry books in the next journey and continue to sleep blissfully.

I have come to realise that we carry an image of our younger self's habits, likings and desires into our consecutive phase of life. I, atleast, think that my tastes in food, books and music will continue to remain the same as I advance in years but sadly that is not the case; probably that is the reason one tends to grow out of friends who were so very precious during our childhood. Sometimes even memories are so - one outgrows them and after a point, there seems to be no much use for those thoughts except that they defined us once upon a time. Awareness of ourselves through passing years is a vital aspect of our life and many a times, we like to lie to ourselves and live under the illusion of seemingly being the same person through the various stages of our lives.

So, what are your thoughts on living under an illusion?

"Can I sit by the window, please?"

I have always liked sitting by the window whenever I travel, be it the car, bus, ship or air-plane. This attribute which was easily granted when I was a kid, gradually fades as age advances. It so happens that when one is an adult, one is expected to give up the window seat for a kid in the family. I find this quite annoying. I liked sitting by the window when I was a kid and I still do.

Whenever a child (while on a trip) is crying or throwing tantrums, the first pacifying act would be to take the child to the nearest window. If all the window seats are occupied by other children, the window seat that is occupied by an adult (in most cases, me) is politely demanded. How I dread those demands? As one grows older, one is expected to always let go even if the individual holds a passion for the same.

All adults invariably accept to let go when one is asked to. I wonder how this change happens. Are adults people with no preferences? This sacrificial attitude of adults is something I cannot come into terms with. While children are given whatever they prefer, adults are supposed to be passive when it comes to express their likes and dislikes. This is more common with the womenfolk, who always let go (for their husbands, children, elders . . . the list is long). Sometimes the chicken thigh (another preference of mine is always given to a smiling kid who makes it clear that she/he can eat nothing else).

The cycle goes on when that demanding child grows up and lets go for another child. I wonder what happens to preferences as one grows old. That window seat is always my preference and somehow I try to get it (carefully negotiating the seat from children).

Do you like the window seat, in particular or are you a no-fuss person who can sit anywhere? Sometimes small things like a window-seat gives moments of happiness and joy. It almost seems like watching the world go by while one is sitting cocooned in another world.

Image: Internet

A conversation . . .

I don’t know how this experience will affect me but I know that it has touched me. For the first time in my life, I had a conversation with someone who was a bit soft in the head. She was smiling to herself and seated on the row of chairs arranged for passengers to sit. I was waiting for my train to arrive. I was travelling alone to Chennai. I sat down beside her. She looked intently at me and exclaimed: “You look very beautiful.” I smiled. She lovingly caressed my left cheek and again said: “You are a beauty —calm and quiet. You smell very good. I like the way you look and smell.” I again smiled at the obvious admiration. I still did not think she was mad.


Then she asked me about my education. I struggled to tell her as I was not sure if she would understand. I anyway told her. She smiled and said: “You are very intelligent. I am not. But I have mingled with many people like you and a bit of their intelligence has rubbed off on me.” I patiently listened. She went on: “I know many wise people like you. What I know is nothing. My knowledge is but a drop.”

She told me that I reminded her of a person she used to know who also quite beautiful and smelled good like me. She looked at me intently and smiled. Then she started talking non-stop about the entire pantheon of Hindu goddesses and how we should not burden the earth. It was only then I started feeling a bit uncomfortable as I wished to be with myself. She talked and talked and when I did not respond by saying ‘yes,’ she would force a ‘yes’ from me. I was a bit reluctant to continue sitting there.

From then on started my meanderings on madness. She seemed much wiser than many common people. Her examples and diction were impeccable (in Tamil). Was she mad? By the standards of the world, yes but otherwise . . . I don’t know.

What makes someone mad? There are degrees, I presume. I might be saner than X but less sane than Y. Is there madness in everyone? Maybe . . .

Have you pondered on madness? Do you think that you might be mad in some way? Maybe . . .

When life-lines stood still . . .

Have you ever been stranded in a crowded train with unfamiliar bodies touching you and that almost you fainted with the breath from a stranger's face. Well, this is what happened to me at about 10 in the morning. I will not say that I have never been in a situation as this but then it has been sometime now that incidents as these occurred.

Railways here are known as the 'lifelines of the country.' They are the legacy that the coloniser left behind and one of the many things that most people don't complain about (the other thing that they don't complain about is the English language). Hmmmm, ok now to the stranded tales of woe. As we got our tickets, we also got to know that was some problem and the trains were not plying. We decided to anyway wait for the train and finally saw a train approaching. We did not get it. It was packed like a tin of sardines. We waited for the next train and also managed to get in only to realise that the train that looked a bit okay from the outside was packed. We were literally pushed inside. I was happy as I did not have to hold anywhere. 


Then it started . . . breath, stories, ring-tones, conversations et al pushed on to you. One was forced to overhear mobile conversations, jokes about being in the papers the next day, permission from office as the train was delayed, curses, fights -- All the aforementioned had the same topic -- that the train was packed and the passengers were stranded in one of the stations.


We decided to get out. Very difficult. We managed. The station was swarmed with people looking morose and angry. No one knew why the trains stopped. We were not alerted. This is the way it is in Chennai. We accept everything and do nothing. I was thinking that if the same had occurred in certain other places, they would have demanded to know the reasons and people would have fought for their rights. But here, we love peace and harmony. We just carry on even if the life-lines snap. After all we are peace-lovers and will remain so!!!

A trip, a phonecall, Jenu Kuruba and a lovely experience

last week from the 14th to the 16th of january, i visted the jenu kuruba settlement in mysore, karnataka. the trip was special in many ways - it was my first visit to a tribal settlement, the train journey into the wee hours of the night was lovely and a phone call while the train just touched the mysore platform was something that made the trip an experience to cherish. the train journey was interesting in the sense we had to get a midnight train from bangalore to mysore but the s1 coach that had to accommodate us was late and had to be attached to the engine. it was the first time that i saw a coach being attached to the engine. the phone call: i had not heard from the person since a long time and the person decided to call me at 4 in the morning and hearing the voice, a thousand bubbles burst one after the other making the journey hmmm! so lovely and invigorating. the journey to the settlements gave one ample time to take in the myriad colours of the landscape and meander one's thoughts into distant realms. the jenu kurba are the honey gatherers (jenu translated as thenu meaning honey in tamil). their way of life, their dance, their familiarity with the forest, the trees, the birds and everything around them prompted one to rethink about one's systems, way of life, et al. why does the tribal people's life always bring wonder to a city dweller like me. is it because i am far removed from a value system that is close adhering to nature. is it a different world view that forces one to reflect and contemplate. displaced from their original home - the forest, the community is still haunted by the memories of a once glorious living and dwelling inside the forest at a time when food and life was quite simple and easy. their philosophy of life is just as easy as the flowing kabini (a river that separates the kerala and karnataka state) who just makes her way in a dignified manner. i know that i can never be a tribal. i was once a tribal but my ancestors chose to 'modernise' themselves. the thought that recurs in me is that 'which tribe i would have belonged to?'