Tea and Train Journeys

Sitting in a glass , concrete architecture marvel , steel seats and high expensive brands offering poor tea labelled as premium . “Airports are places of sophistication , quiet and class “, I over heard two elderly gentlemen talking , “Air travel is faster , better and safer “, they added . I agreed inside , because these places are reflection of who we are as people , lonely , cold and in race to reach early , we accept substandard quality with a nonsensical price tag just to show others (who actually don’t care !) how rich we are.

All this takes me back to the overstuffed bags , hustle of getting into the over crowded bogey and not to mention , shouting vendors and fast steps pacing up and down the narrow alley to our seats . Waiting for next station , to get down and wander . One train , endless stories and newer experiences every time . What possibly could be better than train announcements ?

As I stood on the doors of Terminal 2 of New Delhi airport , waiting in a line , to board a bus , to the plane , I was missing the last train journey I had . I was travelling from Agra to Gorakhpur in a sleeper class (first time really in a sleeper class) on a cold November evening , to attend a friends’ sister’s marriage , without telling my parents from the college hostel . I can still remember, the thrill of it all . Sitting there with my friend Ritika , waiting for our train coming from Mumbai . We had one seat confirmed , for two people . While waiting , in the ladies waiting room , with dilapidated walls and a mother protecting her two children from cold winds and children curled up in one shawl , sleeping with mothers looking after them and protecting them from the cold . I was still warm , with the smiles and love all around .

“Ma’am boarding pass, please! ” I came back to the terminal . I sat on the bus , clutching my book and bag . Looking around the people , looking for some warmth but all I could see bunch of adults looking for the same thing . I smiled to the kid next to me and he chuckled , at least for a moment I felt , I was human . Reaching the plane , a long line of endless desperation , to get in that plane . In that very moment , I could remember standing on the platform , cold winds passing , a cigarette in one the tea in on the other hand , laughing with her and I would never exchange it for anything in the world . Train came in two hours late , we entered the stuffed carriage , and after endless sorry , excuse me , we reached our space . Our lower seat , was facing a three people sitting on one , we were glad , were just two on one . The morning sun , was right on the face .

I saw the woman sitting , watching out of the window , right in front of me , she smiled at me , but I could see the sadness in her eyes. She asked me , where I was going and why , so did I . The question that she was travelling all the way from Mumbai to Gorakhpur roughly 48 hours , surviving on one seat with three of her brothers was bothering me too much . I brushed my teeth and woke up my travel buddy . We had a cup of tea and we were mid way to our destination . The train stopped , at the Gomti nagar station , it was small , less people trying to board the already stuffed train . I looked at them, all running in desperation to go somewhere , yet enjoying every bit of it!

“All passengers are requested to take their seats , switch off their phones , and fasten their seat belt . We are preparing for take off, This is your captain Sanjana Agarwal , over and out .” I settled, fasten my seat belt , switch off the phone . Air stewards requesting for seat belts and asking for , made by boiled water and powdered milk , premium coffee . Only thing in my mind , was the lady in front going to Gorakhpur. Her green sari with golden border and disheveled yet tied in a bun hair , nose ring , empty ears but pierced with a black pearl long necklace with pendant hidden in the layers of sari , she was married and lived in Mumbai with two kids . Her eyes watching scenery pass by , her face was getting gloomier by every station, as if she just wanted to be a little girl again longing to go home and yet never wanting to reach it . I sat in front of her oblivious to her pain , even if she told me , I could only imagine her pain . We had the typical railway breakfast bread cutlet . I was looking out and the scenery was green farms and red sun , like poets imagine country side, artists who draw sunrises , as beautiful as it can get. The family on the side berth , an old couple talked to Ritika, “You girls have a lot of courage to travel by your own, it must be some special reason that you have to go like this. “, she smiled and answered , “We don’t even know , if we are going to enjoy the marriage or not , but you see aunty , this journey is more than the destination , it is our little adventure” , those words still echo , when I walk on the edge of abyss, when about to loose essence of who I am as a person . Me and Ritika still recount them , whenever we talk on the phone , whilst sitting across the nation, wanting to relive the same old days . Three of them , ate out of a tiffin, with minimum talk as if they didn’t want to , all three of them were looking at three different aspects of same cold, cruel life. They took turns to guard the luggage while the other slept . Luckily , a seat was empty and one of them sat there . The woman kept sitting on the same place untethered. My curiosity was brimming , I couldn’t hold myself as we crept towards the last stop of the train , and I finally asked , “Why is it that you want to Gorakhpur?” . She looked down straightened her wrinkled sari , and while looking down answered , “My village is where I am actually going , which is eight hour bus ride from Gorakhpur , this is the furthest any train goes , I have been living in the city for five years , working as a steno, left my village when I got married at 18 , learned stenography to support my husband in Mumbai . Me and my three brothers , left the village. My mother and my elder brother used to live there and my mother passed ! ” , she stopped trying to pull herself together , but tears ran down her cheeks , she continued “I couldn’t even see her for one last time , and now I want to be there for the remaining rites , she made me everything she couldn’t be.” A silence shrouded over the cabin , she wiped her tears , lifted her head and looked me in the eyes and said “Life is too short to not to travel , I am glad you can do it on your own , I wish I could .” I smiled , but yet speechless , because in that very moment , life’s realities dawned upon me .

The train emptied at the station , I smoked the last cigarette left , before going to the marriage , I looked at Ritika , said “Well, I wish , we could do this again.” and she looked at me and with a side smile, and I knew her enough to understand what was about to come, she said “We still have to go back !”

I laughed so loudly , that I got stared down , and remembered I was back at my aisle seat again . I smiled and continued reading , but all I could think was , I may be a someone someday , I may be sophisticated , high-class and rich on my father’s money , but all that still can’t replace , the broke undergraduate with dreams and adventures up her sleeves and love for tea and train journeys !