Skip to main content

The train

The T shirt

The morning of my first train journey alone from the city of Bangalore to the huge city of Mumbai, had me seeing the interiors of a train for the first time in 25 years. The last time I traveled by train I was 5 years old. A lot had changed since then. Flights were frequent, my father had made huge amounts of money, and I never had to bother taking the train.
But as a 30 year old unmarried woman, trying to prove herself in a patriarchal society, I had cut off from my family- financially and emotionally. I had my hand sanitiser, wet tissues, pepper spray,  packed food (enough for 3 days), and I was ready to fight the germs and the assholes that could be in the train. I was dressed in my ex boyfriend's t shirt which was a few sizes too big, so as to not "entice" the lewd remarks or actions.
A woman shabbily clad in a Saree came and sat next to me with her 3 kids and her husband who smelled heavily of alcohol. They were jittery and excited. There was a strong smell of scented talcum powder. My first "rememberable" experience by train, and this was what I got. The woman started to speak to me, they had won a trip to Mumbai, her first time in second class seats, her first time outside the city. I tried to speak to her in my broken kannada. She didn't seem to care much for the lack of good grammar. She kept talking excitedly about her husband and her children. Her husband quietly sat leering at me. I held my handbag closer to me. It was going to be a long train ride.



The Saree

The morning of train journey with my family from the city of Bangalore to the huge city of Mumbai, had me seeing the interiors of a second class compartment of a train for the first time in 30 years. The last time I traveled by train was in the over crowded general compartment when I was 5 years old. A lot had changed since then. Work was frequent, my father had died, and I never had the chance to take the train anywhere.
But as a 30 year old married woman, trying to care for 3 kids in a patriarchal society where my husband comes home drunk every night, I had finally won the break I deserved. I had packed diapers for the baby, water, roti and dal (to last through the journey) and I was ready for my chance for some fun in my life. I was dressed in my best saree, so that I look like I fit in to the crowd in the compartment. 
A woman was already sitting where I was supposed to sit. She was wearing a big sized  tshirt. She looked nervous. So I went and sat next to her. We were very excited, my kids were laughing. It was good to see them so happy. I started talking to the woman about how I had won a trip to Mumbai, my first time in second class seats, my first time outside the city. She spoke very poor kannada. But I was happy she was interested in talking. I kept talking excitedly about my husband and my children. She held her handbag closer to her. Did she think I was going to steal from her? That was not fair, I was just trying to  be nice. I was sad suddenly.  It was going to be a long train ride.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Blink

  The criminal I look at you. I remember I gave you the chance to break me. I didn’t leave, when I knew I should have. I stopped you when you were about to leave. I let myself be bruised. I blink to see if there are any tears in my eyes. I remember the last time. I had thrown it at you, that book that I had painstakingly made as an anniversary gift. I had thrown it at you, hoping, hoping that you’d see it and you’d know what we were losing. I had begged for forgiveness from you, craving for something I knew we had no way of getting back. I had blinked just hoping the pain would go away. I remember when you had told me that you wanted to be with me forever, when you had promised forever. That blue checkered shirt, with its sleeves folded up, the smell of my favourite deo, the half eaten plate of chicken wings, and that playful yet perfect smile. I had blinked, just to make sure that I captured the moment.  I remember when we had first met, how you’d sat across from me, just wai...

The Thought of Words

The writer   It was the words that came to me in free flow. Every sentence well articulated, well written. The words forming thoughts that I have never really understood. I wrote of love, hatred, anger, hunger, pain, regret; without truly knowing what it meant. People laughed, cried, smiled, smirked; on reading what I wrote. But my mother, she never understood. "Think," she'd say, "use your brain." I would be pushed a math paper toward me and would be asked to solve it. That was my life growing up. But words, words were my friends. They brought me pleasure.   I had woken up to the smell of paper burning. There in my room my waste paper basket had been on fire. My mother, standing near it, in her night gown, tears flowing down her face, had been feeding the flames with papers from my desk: my stories, my poetry. The flames had licked them all, tasting my precious words before deciding to swallow them whole. I had watched them burn, and I had let out an inaudibl...

The Jump

Happiness Maybe, just maybe, it is time to give up. I mean, sure, the girl next door lost both her parents to COVID 19. Sure, my family is alive and well and I’m so grateful for it. Sure, I have a lot of love in my life. Sure, I have a great job that gives me time and money. But maybe, it is time that it gets over. When I’m at my peak, when life is at a high and there’s no fall that I can see ahead.  Maybe, just maybe, they won’t miss me as much. Maybe they would understand that it wasn’t sadness at all. I was happy, I am happy and isn’t that what stories always told us? To have a happy ending? Why wait for another moment of sadness? Why wait for another heart break? Why wait for an interruption to my perfect life, when I can be happy and just give it all up. Maybe, just maybe, this jump might not be my last. Maybe, I am so happy that I might defy all odds and fly! This height isn’t that scary. And I’m happy, I’m so happy. I take the jump with my eyes closed and a smile on my face....