Weekend Musings (Addendum): The Return Journey

This is an addemdum to my post, "A Quiet Lesson in Class - Learnt in a night train'', of 14th December". While on my return journey, with time on hand and the mind still lingering on the six “lovely ladies”, I wasn’t expecting much by way of fresh experience. After all, good things don’t normally happen in such quick succession.

But if one is observant enough, a long train journey is never short of entertainment. The rich mix of people keeps one guessing — who they are, where they come from, what they do. Their conversations, with each other or on the phone, offer small windows into their lives.

Above my berth was a pleasant, accommodating lady in her mid-thirties (my guess). The previous night I assumed she was a homemaker, but next morning proved me wrong. She was fielding calls from various people and smoothly “fixing” things. At one point, when a call came in, I noticed the saved contact name on her phone — “Fitter” — which made it clear this was an official work-related call. No one saves a personal number that way. I then gathered she may be coordinating a maintenance or operations team somewhere. We judge people based on imagined stereotypes — and are often completely off the mark.

Yet whatever the public role, the womanly instinct in a woman has its own unmistakable rhythm. The first call she received in the morning was from her husband. This was easy to place: short, routine enquiries, the familiar tone of a couple married perhaps ten years or more. These calls are awaited and looked forward to, and yet in the end, very little of substance is exchanged. Later she spent nearly ten minutes choosing a trinket from a vendor — a small moment that was strangely enjoyable to watch. Even for a low-value item, so many considerations come into play.

Then there was a heavy-set man with a long beard who rose very early, quietly laid a mat between the seats, and began his namaz. He disturbed no one, and after finishing, went up to the top berth and slept till the end of the journey. I found it moving that even in such crowded public spaces, people carry out their private acts of devotion with complete absorption.

A large family was spread out across the bogey, with a few members in our section. They had three boys, aged roughly 4 to 10. All were glued to their phones — cartoons and games played almost nonstop. The volume was high, and neither the children nor the parents seemed aware that it was disturbing others. My wife gently asked one child to lower the volume. He immediately complained to his parents; they told him to reduce it, but it made no difference.

The ill-manneredness did not end there. Sitting cross-legged on the seat, the boy gave my wife and other passengers hardly any room. When asked to move, he shifted barely an inch and continued watching. It is sad if this is how children are being brought up today — and here the fault lies squarely with the parents. The mother, for instance, kept addressing the boy as “murkh”and yelling at him. I couldn’t place the language, but I gathered they might be Jain, as when I was eating idli–wada–chutney, she asked whether the chutney had garlic.

Another delightful aspect of train travel is the variety of sounds in the compartment. Multiple languages, different tones — but the vendors are the most distinctive. Each has a unique voice signature and an almost perfected technique of voice-throw. Even from one end of the coach, their call rings clearly to the other. Some also have amusing vocal quirks — stretching the s sound in “chipsss” or “sandwichesss” — these little bits of sibilance acting like their personal trademarks.

The idli vendor was unforgettable. His voice had such deep bass that even Amrish Puri might have taken notice. His marketing was excellent — “original”, “gharguti”, “garma garam”. Even when I did not particularly want idli, I found myself convinced. It was indeed good, though my wife felt it was slightly undercooked inside.

And so ended my eventful train journey — very unlike a flight, but filled with experiences that will be remembered much longer than the long journey itself.