30. This day, tomorrow

I walked up the samosa guy, who refused to look at me. No matter a torn shirt, I could not leave without tasting his art. So, I ate silently and the others too, faces fixed at patterns of dung coating. People left as soon as they could finish their samosas.

Struggling, I walked back to the lodge, lost all senses and crashed.

The alarm jolted me into a crazed sky. Every night, this place goes nuts. Just the thought of this brightness crushed my bone in that dark room.

Already dark in the strange manner the skies start getting dark before Durga puja, it was still not late. Prahlad might be in Asansol in a few days. And I needed a break, as I drifted off.

Some time in the future, someone had the audacity to knock at the door. A weirdly smug manager peeps and asks Babu, theek ho. I groan back in reply.

Kuch kha lo, he offered. Haan, my crushed lungs replied.

Shifting rather quickly to the business end of the discussion, he asks, Aaj raat rukoge, toh 300 rupye aur lagenge. I nodded theek hai, using my remaining energy.

But I must rest and that was what I was offered. A couple of days in this Marwari household which smells the same as they did decades ago and I recovered fast. Except of course, emerging confused at the complexity of this architecture that appears perfect for echo seekers, but is instead as silent as a Mughal’s palace. 

My mind was on a recent long train journey home

‘Our country does not get enough credit for its public transport. Populations the size of an entire city remains on the move daily, infact numerous such cities seem to be on the move at any moment in a day’. This metaphor by a companion on a long train journey crisscrossing the subcontinent explains Indian train journeys in a single sentence.

Indian train journeys are an anthropologist’s delight as unsuspecting family members, raucous school children and a diversity of cultures come together in a blind leap of faith, in close proximity as they see the still colourful country fly past.

A newly married couple on an Indian train is a treat for voyeurs, gossips, college kids and everyone else. On this journey to Asansol, I experienced this calibrated chaos inside an old reject with unclean toilets, frazzled curtains and unknown smells. As the train picked up pace from Purani Dilli station, things became interesting. Our coupe was an assortment of a mini-India with an ancient looking Punjabi uncle and his wife who uncannily looked the part of Amrish Puri and Fareeda Jalal from Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, a muscular Coorgi with a terrifying moustache, a hyper energetic Marastharian businessman, a Bengali professor, a Malayali uncle returning to his high-profile government job after a visit to his family members in Kerala and a Tamil aunty travelling to meet her children, besides me and the newlyweds in a corner.

Everyone was curious, they were young and could have been from anywhere, maybe Delhi-ites, an immigrant city itself. As the darkness set in, their presence led to a language hysteria as wild conjectures about their status, jobs and even the partly streaked hair was telephonically communicated to relatives and friends across the country.

Their very presence nullified the customary exchange of pleasantness amongst the passengers and everyone slept in a state of mystery. It was only much later that we found out that they were married and knew between them, all the languages spoken in the bogie. As surely as weather changes, an outright embarrassment quickly transformed into friendliness and then to a pleasant memory which shall remain firmly embedded in a long list of memories associated with Indian train journeys.

Yet things look different in this North to East train. Ancient ICF coaches mostly modernised. Newer LMT bogies run through the sub-continent now. Curtains have been removed and recurring pandemics has forever cancelled the option of ordering blankets and pillows. Toilets have transformed, though many do not yet understand bio-toilets (should the government not run informative ads on national media). The improved design and aesthetics almost make us forget the earlier trains that made life tough.

Lost in my thoughts, I found myself speeding through purbhi hindustan, developing everywhere. As I saw the still uncannily familiar sky and finally got down at the now jazzy station, I prayed for safety in this wild world. My eyes open now, I thought to myself that this prayer did not go through. The first two days were a disaster, my broken body dreamed through the mild weather.