Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Train to Kerala

I relish going to the Central Railway Station here, a colonial relic, to see off guests taking the night train to Kerala. There is a sense of sadness and nostalgia as we bid goodbye to relatives on a short visit to Madras, and increasing the yearning to visit our native land in Kerala.

In fact, I love to go to in the mornings to receive my guests, but I rarely get to do that since V goes alone while I spruce up the house and get the breakfast ready.The crowd fills me with a little awe and fear, and I cant say I love the mini-India I see there - people from across the country waiting for their trains, some on the waiting chairs, some settling down on the floor over a bedspread, speaking their varied tongues and partaking their varied cuisine, packed separately for each meal of the day. Some even manage a bath or a laundering under the public taps, and the parochial me wrinkles my forehead and look the other way.

The easy entry that a Rs.3 platform ticket can gain makes it easy for any number of non-passengers - half a dozen relatives to see off a single person, touts, coolies, authorised and unauthorised hawkers - jostle for space with passengers. The sweet voice of the lady announcer regularly directs one where and when one's train can be located. The faint stale smell of packed fish wafts through the air as one hurries past the unreserved compartments, which are packed to the brim like sardines in a fish basket.

With the usual delay that characterises work in a newspaper office, I did not expect to see my guests before the 8 p.m. train departed yesterday. But I just about managed the trip to the station and the long walk to coach no. S-11 in about 12 minutes and even a 3-minute chat with my s-i-l Renee. She is leaving for the Gulf with her daughter and husband, and we are not likely to see them for another year. Well, maybe until February when V plans to visit his brother and family during the Dubai shopping festival.
From ash bday 5

The kids were extremely dejected when their dear Uppapa and cousin Minukutty left. They had had two days of fun playing non-stop. This time the two girls formed a league and ousted my little boy from some of their games. They refused to play with him if he snatched a bat or a ball from one of them. Even his bicyle became their monopoly.
Eating out and the non-veg fare at home for the guests made Ash's skin worse once again. With the result that he had to skip school and we have to be strict with his diet once again.
So much so that the maid had to whisper to the guests yesterday noon that the karimeen fry for them was kept away in the kitchen away from Ash's eyes. But nothing misses his eye. He went and told his aunt: "Ammama has kept fish for you in the kitchen. I dont want it. I had pavakka (bitter gourd) fry and cabbage for my lunch."
"So cute of him," Renee told me as she narrated the incident. I was near tears.
The train soon chugged out of the station. I'm not the sentimental type, so V is surprised to see a tear-stained cheek. I tell him it is Ash.
V consoles me. "Dont worry, he came and had a little fish and chicken from my plate."

As we walk back, I am careful not to look at the tracks - where rats scurry past and faeces from the open toilets in the train remain an eyesore. I pity the scavengers who have to clean up the tracks the next morning, and wonder when we will have toilets that wont spill its contents at railways stations at least.

2 comments:

marcia@joyismygoal said...

You write so That i was there w/ you _-Good job

Anonymous said...

reminds me of those days and feelings.
take care'
ust

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