The Great Indian Train Journey:

Bombay to Delhi:

Uncle dressed like a politician, Aunty dressed like a politician’s wife – in all white. I look at them apprehensively. After an hour or so I relax.

Well-dressed religious old man who instead of saying hello would greet everybody with ‘radhe radhe’. Was on his way to Mathura for a wedding, he informed me later.

Local ‘chalti-kya-khandala’ type of guy who showed his machismo by chewing guthka constantly. His newly wed bride was also the ‘kareena-kapoor-in-films character’ type with all the adas and jhatkas in place. Snippets of conversation caught…“tumne mujhe itna rulaya…” “akele chorh ke kahan gaye the…”

Dinner time: Religious uncle shares his parathas and acchar with everybody saying ‘Gujrati mirchi hain, bilkul teekhi nahin”.
Post dinner: He tells me the story of his two daughters and then helps me make my bed.

He shook hands with everybody before getting down at Mathura.


Delhi to Bombay:

Gabru jawan from sada Dalhi worked for a small publishing house.
Sweet married boy from ‘New Dalhi’ was from a pharma company. They hit it off in no time.

The first part of the conversation was interesting when Sweet Boy describes the relation between pharma companies and the docs or hospitals.
The second part of the conversation was even more interesting. GJ told this guy that he came to Bombay often and knew the city well. He convinced SB not to stay in an expensive place in Andheri (though his meetings were there) but to stay in a cheaper hotel near VT. Some snippets

GJ: (extremely confidently) Saari locals VT se jaati hain. Andheri adhe ghante mein pahuch jaoge.
SB: Achha? Koi problem toh nahin hoga?
GJ: Main itni baar gaya hoon, mujhe local mein koi problem nahin hua hain.
I cringe.

SB: Bombay mein yeh fast or slow trains kuch hote hain na?
GJ: Nahin, wahan lines hota hain. Ek harbour ki taraf jati hain aur doosri seedhi. Ek aur line hain…woh Marine Lines se Juhu jati hain.
SB: Aur locals mein maine first class bhi dekha hain. Woh kya hain?
GJ: First class mein sitting hota hain. General mein khade hoke jate hain.
SB: Accha, Film City kahan hain?
GJ: Andheri mein. Wahan bahut saare studio hain.
SB: Andheri side mein dekhne ke liye kya hain?
GJ: (coming straight to the point) wahan bahut saaren night clubs hain.
SB: Theek hain, mera kaam ho jaane ke baad main tumhe phone karoonga….(already become thick pals)

Dinner Time: GJ tells SB… 'Aao main tumhe pantry le jata hoon’…obviously hinting to little swigs.

I giggle when I get down at Mumbai Central. Now I’m dying to know what they did in this city.

My Truths and some Observations:

I have a strange dilemma now. I live to travel but I don’t want others to travel. Now-a-days I go to places and don’t tell people about it. Reason? I had gone to Ladakh some 6 years back when there were very few tourists and no Indians. Blown over by its beauty, I recommended it to all my friends and other strangers as well. Now look what has happened. It’s becoming a mini Manali…tourists pouring over in that ecologically fragile zone destroying it slowly. Somewhere I believe it’s my fault. So these days I keep quiet.
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I have been in a reflective mode these past few days….wondering as to where we all are headed. If wheel (I personally would add tissue papers and safety pins!) was the best thing that has happened to mankind, then I believe the www is possibly the worst. Too much info and easy access to everything leads to people not valuing anything. I mean, it does make life easier….but we did live happily before that happened, didn’t we. Technology is supposed to get you closer…that’s what all the ads say. But people, friends and families are moving away. All the magical untouched corners of the earth are getting infected with humans. Too many people are demanding too many things. In the end, it’s just you and a super busy life so that you don’t get the time to think how alienated you actually are.
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Earlier I used to love aesthetically decorated houses. Now I like houses that are a bit cluttered and filled in. They feel warm, lived in. I get better sleep in these homes than clean sanitized ones. But when I get my own home, it will be neither. I am a minimalist. I don’t buy things because I don’t really need them. Maybe that’s why I like the houses in villages. Clean, white washed, bare minimum and yet so livable. Many people find it difficult to understand given that in these over materialistic times, not wanting seems like a crime.
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I don’t know how to deal with rich people. They have a different style of talking, of doing things. They have a confidence which comes only with money. Maybe that’s why we as a nation deal with the westerners like the way we do. Maybe it’s not really about the colour of the skin but about money. I wonder if we were a rich nation, would we still be in so much awe of the white skin as we are now?

Just Another Day: Festivities

The speakers started piling up a week in advance and being tested from different angles. I cringed. It meant 9 days of loud music at prime relaxing time. From day one to day eight the same music played out on these speakers….bad garba-style remixes of old bollywood songs. People would collect slowly in drab dresses and dance about in a circle right in the middle of the road…doing the same steps every day. My extreme annoyance at the chaos did not let me understand the fact that these festivals are the only way for the basti folks to relax, enjoy and shake a leg. I waited feverishly each day with cotton in my ears for the music to stop.

On the ninth day, the music started late and went on till the wee hours of the night….the law giving them concession for a day I think. To my surprise, the whole place erupted in colours and excitement. Little kids were prancing around dressed like little fisherwomen, goddess Kali, Durga and even an angel. Girls, guys, men, women….all had come out in their best attire….bright red, pink, orange sequined saris, sequined tops with jeans, colourful kurtas. Surprisingly, none of them looked like they belonged to a basti. I mentally went through my wardrobe and realized that I do not have a single dress to rival even the drabbest one of theirs.

Suddenly the same drab music sounded full of fun and masti. And all danced with gusto….the girls with colourful dupattas (who won the best group award), the guys in t-shirts, neck-tie and a white glove, two eunuchs in jeans, a muslim guy swaying to the tune of ‘Nagin’, a man in a golden coat and a long black wig (he won the best dressed dancer award), a mother with a baby in her arms, a drunken guy who came dressed in leaves, a woman who held her sari up a little and let her hair flow down her right shoulder seductively and the organizers in yellow kurtas and turbans. Towards the end, the circle broke. The music changed to pub numbers and the whole scene turned into a veritable open-air discotheque. The girls’ group jumped with the tune, a guys’ group did hip-hop and b-boing, one of the eunuchs danced around with a group of guys and throwing her hair about….there was a strange underline of sexuality between them….something which I did not want to think about.

Naturally the girl dressed like goddess Durga won the fancy dress competition. I watched them till the time the music stopped and everybody slowly went back home. I have never seen such a harmless (saying so due to my deeply ingrained Delhi sensibilities) and fun community celebration and loved every moment of this show.

But now all I want is a quiet and peaceful place to heal my extremely painful ears.

Itchy Feet:

The washed air sparkled in the dead of night
A half moon looked at me and whispered
The melancholic wind tossed the whispered words around
And blew it on my face, unaware of my reaction
I felt the moon’s whisper rather than hear it
Somewhere the hibernating senses rustled
It crawled slowly over my skin
And settled deep in every pore

The moon spoke of a word which smelt of Freedom
Of roads that led to forever
Of frosty mountain air and simmering dessert sun
A rain soaked earth and sun-kissed empty sand
Of freshly cut grass and drying chillies
Of red roses against a white wall
A calling magpie high in the sky
A window looking over a vale
Of playful mist whirling about
A golden sun over a rolling meadow
And of a road that never arrived

The distant horizon is luring
And the feet’s begun to itch
For a journey to forever
And a road that becomes the home

Grey Areas:

M’s wife did her higher education from a university in the US. She told me about how the American economy used to promote consumerism by being in debt. ‘Credit worthiness’ is what they called it. One couldn’t get a loan until he (or she) had a good history of his credit card usage. Which meant that one was forced to do all shopping through credit cards….which in turn meant being in debt perpetually.

This just opened up the Pandora’s Box for me. I began my diatribe about how irresponsible the world power was. How it’s senseless ‘I, me & myself’ policies have ruined the world economy, ecology, climate, political ties, destroyed countries and made the whole world such an unsafe place to live in. Their bad points far out weigh the good. Why can’t everybody be more like the European countries…..culturally sound, economically stable, politically neutral and ecologically in a better situation than the rest?

I hate to admit but what M’s wife said made some sense – where else can you get that personal freedom, the basic right to life, the choices as an individual and equality among human beings which lacks in so many ways in other countries. Being a fancy free person myself, I would love to live in a country like that only for this reason.

But then even I can’t justify thinking about oneself without thinking about the rest. I, the individual, my life, my family, my caste, my religion, my state, my community, my country! Sometimes I think there should have been life in other planets, only then we could have risen above these petty issues and said my Earth.

It’s easier to follow bad examples than good and given the state of the world, I think we are way past that line where we could have pulled ourselves back to the good.
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In the last couple of months, I have realized that there is so much of goodwill that exists in the society. Everybody wants to do something, even a little, if it helps somebody else or makes the world a better place. And there are so many organizations that have been working diligently for years to make some sort of a change.

But why is it that the deeper I look, the grimmer the situation seems…be it environment, children, education, women, human rights or wildlife. Sometimes I feel that the people we want to help are so used to external support that they don’t want to get out of their situation. Or perhaps we don’t know what ultimately the cause will end up doing. There’s always this….. ‘then what?’ question that remains.

Like education for all children. Once you fulfill it, then what? Are we capable of handling giving all these educated kids a dignified life, a decent job? Chances are lots will be frustrated at the lack of it….so they will go back to doing things to get quick money.

Like community development and infrastructure in the hills. Roads bring people, development brings money. With money comes consumerism, branded clothes, tv, car, tourists. Beautiful locations see mushrooming of grotesque buildings…then there’s pressure on availability of water, pollution and the list goes on.

Seems like a vicious circle to me….with no real time solution for it.
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Near Mumbai Central, I saw a cat sleeping curled around a dog. At Nariman Point I saw 2 cats and 3 hens feeding from the same dish containing fish and rice.

Why can’t we be more like them?

Lost World:

Aankhon mein jiske koi toh khwab hain
Khush hain wohi jo thoda betaab hain
Zindagi mein koi, aarzoo kijiye
Phir Dekhiye…..

I am happy to find my perspective back….
It’s been a long journey.

Just Another Day: Train

Most of the girls have their ear-phones plugged in, with the wires disappearing inside the purse, and staring blankly ahead perhaps lost in their own thoughts or just the music.

One girl is standing and reading Sidney Sheldon’s Rage of Angels which she had picked up from a library. She’s a college student. I was in school when I had read that. Nice novel….nostalgia floods in remembering those days.

The girl next to me dials a number and starts talking to a Yogesh in the typical fashion which clients uses to screw their vendors. She didn’t care how, but she wanted her work done Now. I remember the number of times I had used that particular tone and shuddered. Poor Yogesh, his week is going to go really bad.

A woman-hawker gets up selling hairclips, rubber-bands and other stuff which she distributes amongst the passengers. The stickers sell like hot cake….most girls pick up the ones with cute little hearts in various designs and colours. Romantic fools! I look up at the second class compartment. The hawkers there had more interesting things to sell. They don't come to our section…..I wonder why.

I find a seat near a girl who’s talking seriously on the phone. I catch snippets of her conversation. “This is the last chance I’m giving you” “Listen, I have told you that I can’t do it”. There goes another love story all the way downhill. It seems to be happening way too often.

I lean my head against the seat and close my eyes. A fast train rushes past….how I love that sound of speed and urgency, the sound of long journeys. Vaguely I sense a girl leaning to take her bag from the overhead rung.

Soon, the movement lulls my senses and I’m lost to the world.