Rush Hour Diwali – Thane Railway Station I stood on the platform # 7 right below the digital indicator sinking absolutely in the moment. Not sure though it was due to slumber or sheer consciousness. 40 minutes more to go for Netravati express to arrive. I just came to drop my parents as they are heading out to our native Kerala. Watching throngs of arriving Mallu’s in their traditional simpleton manner, suddenly my eyes caught off a rag picker holding huge white polythene base walking briskly down the tracks, while his eyes keenly searched bottles and plastic wraps with great conviction. He seemed a bit annoyed as an approaching Garib Rath blared horn somewhere down the tracks, climbing up the platform he hurriedly swept the scattered and littered bottles lying on the platform. Lalu’s Baby ( Garib Rath was actually conceived by Lalu Prasad Yadav for poor commuters) sped past onlookers lifting dust and weightless plastics materials. It slithered away like a worm as its coaches bobbed down in rhythmic motion. I took my eyes off the Army Green train and captured the rag picker again. While my eyes stalked his every move alarmingly a dead frog fell on my side. I looked up in the awning where a distraught crow flitting through stared at me. It didn’t take me long to notice a visibly mischievous rat trying to shoo away the new invader. But moments later it was rat after a close shave escaping a free fall saw fleeing the scene. Heaven knows what propels such behavior from these tiny creatures, may be survival of the fittest, I mused. I lobbed the dead frog to the tracks as an ever tenacious crow picked it up in one motion and flew away. It took me a brief moments to slip back into the momentum as the flight of crow emasculated my mood. Few moments apart, basking in an unprecedented autumn breeze my eyes once again began shooting the platform scenes. Over to my left few meters away an impoverish beggar slowly lumbered, randomly sweeping dusts, he implored for money. Some kind hearted individuals willingly gave me him money as he dropped them in his cloth sack. Suddenly, I heard a low thrum of “Pardesi Pardesi Jana nahi” somewhere across the platform and in few seconds a small party of children singing coarsely came into view. Soon they came through our side clamorously singing “Pardesi Pardesi Jana nahi..mujhe chodke.. muhje chodke”. It was rather unusual sight here as these children mostly appear on aboard than on platform. Humming along the children I wondered why has it became a Beggar’s Anthem or why was it chosen over the other melancholic songs?. Whatever, I will never grew tired of hearing this song as it is attached to one of my fondest memories. First time I heard this song on a Bus while travelling to Kerala from Mumbai after a summer vacation (Circa.1997). It was early June still summer was yanked comfortably without showing any signs of departure. I felt the usual pang of departing my mother and was deeply morbid. Once inside the bus Grandma consoled me profusely as well as promised a slew of goodies to contain my outpourings. Moments later munching down wafers I saw Akai TV perched on the glass window flickering as the assistant of driver jabbed some buttons on VCR. Soon, Raja Hindustani was playing on TV. I enjoyed the movie quite indulgingly leaving my memories behind, as the Akbar Travels wound through old Mumbai Pune Highway. Particularly the song “Pardesi” remained with me for a long time as it pulled the similar emotional strings which woven our memorabilia. I felt lost and forlorn whenever this song being played out. I guess these little wandering train singers were fans of Nadeem-Shravan as they invariably sang his songs. Be it “Tum Dil ki Dhadkan main Rahte ho or Pardesi Pardesi Jana nahi they can’t do without either. This time I gave out the loose coins in my pocket. Picking and pleading they marched out to far stretching out platform singing the same song. The very scene frosted me, pulling aside my somber thoughts I took leave of my parents and departing singers. To counter it, I decided to feel the happenings around the platform. Slowly ambling through the crowded platform my eyes canned human sea waiting to pounce upon the next wheeling machine. Every face had a story of despair, hope, confusion and compulsion. To some life regardless of its difficulties and challenges thrown upon by the fate seemed receiving but to many death is more welcome than life. I saw the multiple and myriad realities of my beautiful city out there. Duality of reality reigned supreme in its complexities and yet in simplicities. I was again welcomed by the usual sights. Still life was in full swing, trains came in and went off, masses varied with each passing minutes and vendors replenished their stocks crossing tracks. Upon reaching the end of platform # 7 my eyes fell on a beautiful event. A newly mother was suckling her infant twins with both her breasts. A sense of bliss reflected in her eyes as the infants sucked “Somras”. Mother is to baby is what nature is to men. Engrossed in the beauty of the moment instinctively an old Sanskrit prayer “Samudra Vasane Devi Parvatasthana Mandele” referring to Divine mother came to my mind. How nature is nurturing its baby through a perfect and foolproof methods astonished me. Nature is considered as Divine mother in Indic wisdom therefore everything nature has to offer considered equally divine in Vedic era. Let me not digress, It was quite disrespectful to look at that beautiful scene especially towards a mother. I apologized inwardly, for my eyes inadvertently picked up a most beautiful scene. Encouraged by the mother’s love, I made a mental note to resolve to more eco-friendly ways. Beautiful sight indeed that was highlighted a grim story of the aspiring Super Power. Poor still gives birth in railways platforms and mosquito infested shanties where a river of sludge flowed seamlessly while our reckless and shameless political class looted the trove of our pristine nation. A train horned and slowly pulled it over at platform # 7. Lost in the moments of motherly love I failed to notice the gathered crowd for the train. I read the name plate mounted on the wall of the train “LTT – Gorakhpur – Chapra”. As I moved along the platform there was already a frenzy of activity going around all the doors of the train. Like, all the general compartments of trains bound for UP and Bihar it was too crowded, there was not even a foot-space to stand. Many tried to squeeze in but were pushed out by the passengers. It was a hell of a place. Curiously I got closer to a door there stood a seemingly pleasant guy with a contrasting backdrop on the door, may be happy to have got standing permission for his 30 hour journey. I enquired him about the nature of crowd and their devastating journey through the Vindya’s. He told me the ordeals one had to endure during these trips especially in general compartments. During the day they had to deal with scorching Sun who made them reel, while at night cold breeze left them shiver through as closing the doors would not be possible due to overcrowding. As he finished the narration a middle aged man holding a black bag and a red cylindrical object came running towards the door. I was sure that he must have been denied an entry elsewhere. As expected he couldn’t get inside, suddenly a honk blared from the head of the train. This man now almost pleaded hysterically, with folded hands he cried for letting him inside but still the inmates stood nonchalantly. The train slowly moved while dragging his belongings he cried a loud revealing conditions of his young daughter who has been hospitalized in his village and shared the plight of his poor family who are in dire need of money as well as strength at this time of trial. Picking up speed now, train was about to enter full gear. Suddenly moved by the emotion of this man a few kindhearted Youngman pulled him inside but his belongings tumbled out on the platform. This man now floating in air did tried to leap back and get his stuffs however the crowd didn’t let him go suggesting that he might end up dead or fractured. All the eyes were now on the man and his belongings. Some gawped, some yelled and some looked stubborn. Out of nowhere came a teenage boy picking up this man’s belongs sprinted up to the door of the fast moving train and thrown his belongs in it, all happened in the blink of an eye. The man shot an empathetic look at the boy while still floating in the air. This Super Boy waved back at the departing train and walked away joyfully. Perhaps this boy and other fellow passengers on the train knew their limitations and necessity for they shared milieu. As I walked backwards to reach my parents I heard a Railway snacks vendor mentioning it as a “fixture” in his daily outings. This man has been lucky however many doesn’t get chance to even stand and go. I have seen people bound for UP and Bihar standing in long serpentine queues for general tickets for hours during summer and get fainted without any care or even the notion of help. This has been the plight of passengers of northern states. Hope our railway authorities get wake up to these issues and fix it. An emotional Mama watching all this said to me “How lucky we are to have been born in better conditions”. I knew what she meant by lucky, as her tickets have not been confirmed yet……..
Posted on: Thu, 07 Nov 2013 14:20:08 +0000
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