Homeward Bound

Nov 15th 2005

The ultimate late latif that I am, I ran towards the train when there was 5 minutes left for departure and no seats that could be found easily. Jam packed, the train slowly pulled out of ‘Majestic’…to slowly reveal the city that my home is around the outskirts. Filth filled, steeped in poverty, sheltering crime both big and small, guarding secrets and stories, untouched by the wealth that was right above it, shack after shack, drain after drain, settlement after settlement they passed by. Like the filthy rags covering an old jewel, the moving train removed all the things that make Bangalore the city she has become. I was surprised at how quickly my heartbeat dropped to a more normal pace as soon as we were outside the city. It felt like the beginning of life as I have known in India, sanity that I truly appreciate!!

The earth continues to be red and fiery at some places and unforgiving and dry at other places. Puddles were aplenty, lakes were full, all thanks to the unrelenting rains. The coconut plantations looked fuller and healthier. I hear the disease that wiped out plantations together is now almost gone. When I was younger one could not spot an areca tree near Bangalore. This time around, there were a few plantations far away from where they belong. The lush green fronds of the Areca trees tugged so strongly at my heart that the cords to a purse full of tears came undone. After being in the country for almost 2 weeks, I finally felt like I was home. Amazing!! The memories that I least treasured are those that are the strongest!!

I simply had to have a cup of railway ‘Kaaffey’. The child in the seat beside split his hot coffee on his lap, I instinctively tightened the grip on my paper cup. My butter fingers have burnt me quite a few times when I was a kid. The light brown watery concoction they call coffee is actually better than it used to be. The maddur vada that went with it was perfect. Railway snacking at its best!!

The lady opposite me wanted to sit in 2 seats instead of one, until someone bullied her right out of her selfishness, grudgingly though. After muttering under her breath for a few minutes her attention turned towards me. Where am I going? Do I live there? Do I work elsewhere? Why do I have a mangalsutra on my neck, but no bindi? What does my husband do? I looked out the window at the dogs barking and chasing the train. After a barrage of unanswered questions, finally the important one – whose family do I belong to in my hometown? That one I answered quickly and was never bothered again. This was the first of many times in this trip, that I was thankful for belonging to a certain family.

I usually don’t converse with people in trains. I keep to myself and my book, alas I had forgotten mine. The person next to me was only too happy that I was not exactly engaged in anything, so he turned on some movie on his mobile, half sharing it with me, perhaps hoping that I would lean over. Then he made a loud call on his mobile phone and mentioned words like ‘bhai’ and ‘khokha’. Mercifully another girl came and sat between us. At some point we all started conversing. Between the stream of blind and crippled beggars, to those that hand out cards with stories and pictures on them and then come again to collect money, the cups of coffee and packets of kurkure, I learnt that the man was Muslim, married to a Gujrati Jain, living in Mumbai and his family of 4 kids and wife were in another town. The girl next to me apparently has some physical ailment and suffers from the belief that she is not pretty. I told her I thought she was pretty. I don’t know if she heard me loud enough.

Halfway through, we were supposed to change trains. I learnt that some relatives were sitting right behind me and that they knew I was sitting there, but did not to speak with me, perhaps because the train was so crowded. Blessings of blessings they informed me that their son is also in Seattle and they will be visiting him about the same time I leave for home and hearth. Wondering about why they did not speak with me, I continued the journey with them. We made new conversation and caught up after what must have been a decade.

It was already dark when I arrived. My cousins were thrilled to see me, as were the many aunties and uncles. My nieces and nephews were overjoyed, shy and eager all at once. (my oldest niece is just 4 years younger than me!!) A quick cup of coffee and out came the Mehendi cones. Accusations about having ditched everyone for Mehendi and decorated my hands and feet got louder and louder along with demands for patterns on hands. I had gotten my hands and feet Hennaed a day before and was all set for the wedding. The Mehendi process went on for 3 or 4 hours and all my cousins and bhabhis/athiges and nieces and nephews were all satisfied.

When I finally hit the sack that night, it was well past bed time. But all that I could manage were tears…No fun is fun when your soul mate is not with you.

More later….

(The day is the 24th Nov, time is 1.15 am and it continues to rain outside. It might as well be Seattle!! Net connection here is pathetic, so please bear with me regarding replies and mails. Delays are unavoidable!!)