With nothing better to do she watched the TT paste the reservation chart. Poor fellow was swelling in Madras heat, with a tie hanging around like a discarded piece of cloth. He seemed to be walking with a contingent. People clung to tickets and probably tried to bribe him for confirmation. The AC or non AC chaps were at his mercy and each time he pasted a chart, he felt more gloated. The gathering seemed to swell and finally when all charts were pasted, he stood in one corner, not bothered about the woes of passengers and may be the non passengers. Nevertheless, the non-listed and wait listed stuck to him. The pride for next half an hour would compensate him for the worn out suit, battered tie and a rusted badge.
Out of curiosity, she saw the names of co passengers. One next to her would be a lady, Kasthuri and other passenger was Srinivasan. May be father and daughter were headed down South. Atleast she would have someone to talk to.
The dust almost settled when he sat down, almost. But within minutes she saw an old man standing next to him, well, sitting then and then pushing the suitcase beneath the seat, then again sitting and taking a long rusted chain with a huge padlock. He fastened it to the suitcase, pulled it thrice and then again pushed the suitcase to dark oblivion. Finally, he seemed settled and he nudged the younger one. Younger one soon took a bottle of pristine bottled water and dutifully removed the cap and watched his grandfather gulp the water. When water rushed down from throat to stomach, the younger one kept the closed bottle back. The lady, sorry the guy sat next to her, took an ear plug from his shoulder bag and drifted to a different world. Well, there went her conversation partner for the journey.
Grandfather and grandson duo sat contented, in their world of fastened chains and callous ear plugs and bags. Kasthuri soon took a book and closed his face from world view. GF (for sake of brevity lets call grandfather GF) fidgeted around and then rambled to Kasthuri, “enn dhan un appa costly suitcase vangararu. (why does your dad buy these costly suitcases). I need to be more careful about the suitcase. For my wornout dresses, I had to spend so much on the padlock. “ She didnt even remember whether Kasthuri responded, but GF shifted attention to her and said, “Iam used to Alfa suitcase, but his father wont listen. He bought this foreign, enna brand da indha suitcase and said its light weight. I had to stitch a suitcase cover for this also. Imagine waiting in West Mambalam tailor shops for this “. Kasthuri peeped from the book and said “Taaathaaa, that's lightweight and is comfortable. It isnt expensive, dont worry. When would we reach Tirunelveli ?”
May be GF forgot that Kasthuri sat there, or GF thought she paid more attention. Answering to Kasthuri's question, he shifted attention to her. “Every year I go to Tirunelveli. This year he happens to be in India. I had to cajole him for a week. He has travelled so less in trains here.” May be Kasthuri responded, may be he didnt. But clearly he was bored and didn’t sync with the people around. When the train slowly pulled out of station, Kasthuri peeped out of the book and gave her a brief smile. Here, he was totally disconnected to the surroundings, in his T shirt and jeans and trying to keep himself occupied. GF by then had Tughlak magazine in his lap, the quintessential magazine for the politics inclined Tamilian. Next few hours, GF rambled about politics and how nation required a change, often shifting his timeline from Nehru to current politicians. It almost seemed like politicians were aliens existing somewhere and were to be critiqued. Kasthuri, mumbled something in between when it was almost night and Thatha took a neat ziplock of chapattis and another box of subzi. My daughter in law packed for me. “She wouldnt listen when I said I would eat food from the canteen here.” Kasthuri might have washed, sanitized his hands many times before he carefully took the chappati and subzi in a silver foil. His mother is very particular about hygiene like him. Good manners, isnt it. Yes, she had to agree.
By then, Kasthuri lost interest in the book or was more interested in the almost mute spectator. He looked blank for some moments and asked, “you are also going to Tirunelveli? How far is Karaikurichi from there?” She was not sure of distances. Then he said, we are going to temple there. Thatha goes every year and he wants me to see the yearly festivities. Bus would be interesting right, the paddy fields and scenery. She wanted to tell him about the dust, slow buses, breakdowns and well so much more. But she reserved her views because she wasnt aware of the picture his GF sold to him. Kasthuri was now more interesting than his GF. He asked her why she was going to Tirunelveli. She had no clue. She was bored with her job and decided to pack her bags and meet her aunt in Tuticorin and go to Tirunelveli, en route or away route. Braving the blazing Tuticorin heat was much better than the somber and washed out AC premises. He suggested that Thatha would also be glad if she came for the temple festivities. With nothing better to do, she agreed....By then, GF had found other interesting co passengers. She noticed that when political analysis peaked to extremes, GF would keep quiet and look out at the darkness. Kasthuri smirked and whispered, Thatha is very scared of speaking vociferously about politicians. He is scared some co passenger may be affiliated to the party he is criticizing and would trace him down and threaten him. Well, well!!!!
She asked him which part of US they lived in. He said something about coast and added Chicago. Not that she knew anything about coasts and sides of US, but she simply added some relatives of hers lived in US. Hmmmm, good. So how come you never went to US, he asked. Never thought of going and couldn’t afford tickets. He laughed and said yeah we come once in five years because travel is expensive.
So, how long was he in India? May be for more than a month. He had taken break from work and was now sauntering around and giving Thatha company. He talked about a wedding he went. The glitter and gold, people aimlessly walking around and sumptuous food. "Amount of food I ate, I need to jog for a week to burn it down." In India, we never equate eating during happy occasions with calories. Calories reside happily after the binge for years and years.
In between the talk, dark skies, lights from obscure houses located in the midst of nothing, she had her dinner. Meager food from railway canteen, cold and inedible. Kasthuri looked at her with pity and asked whether she would like some chappathis. His mom had packed a lot for the journey. Somehow content with the familiar food, she refused. May be her non sanitizing enough would corrupt his neat food. Kasthuri kept drifting to the skies beyond the rusted window rods. These houses look like fireflies, tiny and scattered he said. She never looked at the skies or surroundings in such rapt attention. Train travel was so much a part of her routine that these images never sunk in. What do you see in the skies when you travel? He said only colours of skies, blue, crimson sometimes, sometimes orange and only clouds. I just don’t feel the earth and the people from those distances.
She told him that she travelled by air for the first time when she was in her tenth grade. She said she had heard that she travelled by air when she was a year old but she didn’t remember anything. She remembered the flight when she was in tenth grade. Not knowing how to fasten seat belts, gaping at the air hostess and struggling with the food plate. He added and struggling with the so little food they serve. Yes, she chuckled. But she was so excited and not hungry that she didn’t realize the quantity was less.
She left him to his gazing and moved to middle berth to drift off to sleep. His GF was already asleep by then and had a neat air pillow and bed sheet. As usual she didn’t carry any pillow and tucked her handbag close to her. She always had fitful sleep in trains, dreaming about missing stations, bags. He was back to ear plugs and looking lost. One last smile and they were in their own worlds.
Next day morning she woke up late, after the sounds of coffee vendors kept thumping around. GF and Kasthuri were sipping hot coffee, when she came back from halfhearted brushing. Kasthuri had his legs on the other berth, relaxing and mor
e at peace with the surroundings now. We should be reaching in an hour. So, are you joining us? This time Thatha also invited her. She smiled though suddenly she felt strange inhibitions. Sitting very close to Kasthuri’s feet, she noticed the long fingers and his hands moving in all directions when he spoke to his Thatha.
In the station, Kasthuri was carrying the light suitcase, Thatha walking right behind and she was next to Thatha. It almost seemed Kasthuri was escorting them. In this place, where he had never been, he seemed to take charge and was concerned about Thatha and her. In the bus stand, he was again lost and said that he didn’t see such frenzy crowd anywhere. He almost thought Thatha would slip away from him in the station, in the midst of sea of people. No wonder he kept looking back at them in the station. She asked him again whether he would be ok in the bus or should they hire a cab. She almost said we could share the cab fare, but he seemed excited about bus travel.
In the bus, Thatha was given a comfortable front seat and they sat right behind him. In the state transport corporation bus, with firm