If you have never given the Indian Railways a chance to serve you then you have missed a lot. No I’m not talking about the quality of service provided by the Indian Railways; well that’s something beyond my ‘subject matter expertise’. I’m talking about the stories, the experiences, the learning you get while travelling by train. Personally I have loved my train travel, in sleeper and general class. It’s like plethora of colors of all kinds in front of you. And I believe that if you don’t take some pains during your student life then you are missing a lot of enjoyment, not to mention discovering different aspects of life.
The incident I’m going to talk about is from my first year of Engineering. It was the month of May and I was bunking (yes it was possible in your grads) some classes to attend a function back home. If you have spent a summer in north, especially in the UP-Delhi-Rajasthan region then you would know how grueling day travel is at that time. For those who have no idea about it, walking during the day is nothing less than finding your way out of a brick kiln. But as I was going home, nothing could mar my excitement. I chose a train in the afternoon because I could attend the first three classes of mine and more importantly I could manage reservation in that train only.
So with sufficient resources of liquids (water and soft-drinks) I boarded the train which to my surprise was just an hour late (must be my lucky day!). Thankfully I had a family of three and another couple sharing the compartment with me. I slumped into my lower berth and relaxed. But sitting next to the window was testing as the ‘Loo’ (the hot seasonal wind up north), an accomplice of the summer sun kept on making life difficult for me. Poor Pepsi and water were trying their best to save me from dehydration. As the train paced ahead I took out a book from my bag and started reading. The two set of aunties and uncles started chit chatting, the kid was given food and like a good baby (what every mother would love to have) went to sleep, even in that hot and perspiring weather. Kudos to the kid I said to myself.
The train moved with its usual pace, with the usual breaks in between. And after some two and hours of travel, with the sun still not satisfied with the nemesis caused, our train halted at some obscure station. I reluctantly shut down my book and as I glanced outside I saw something that could have moved anyone (at least that’s what I thought). I saw some young kids rushing towards the train with steel and train buckets full of water in their hands. They were trying to sell water and most of all they were barefooted. A chill ran down my spine on seeing them. How could anyone walk barefoot, it was like walking barefoot on burning coals, how could they? I had seen something like that in a movie (Swades) but I never was sure that something like this actually existed. Suddenly I felt Goosebumps in this hot weather.
As I watched them bewildered a small boy, 10 something approached us, nothing unusual about his face. The same sun tanned skin, the same malnutritioned body, protruding belly, weak hands and feet. He was just wearing shorts and a black thread around his neck, probably something his mother must have made him wear to ward off evil eye. He looked at us through his big yellow eyes and asked us if we wanted a glass of water for just Re. 1. But more than water, I wanted to ask him how come he was able to walk barefoot on that burning platform? How come his feeble hands were supporting the big bucket full of water? How come his body was sustained by those weak limbs? And how come he did not feel the ‘Loo’ across his body? Was he stronger, better equipped or ate something different to make him survive this?
My thoughts were interrupted by the discussion between the uncle and aunty sitting in front of me. They were having a dialogue in not so sober way as to who was to be blamed for not getting sufficient amount of water in the journey. The uncle finally gave the verdict that he was getting down to fill the bottle. And I was reminded about the boy standing near us. As I looked out I saw that the boy had moved a little far from us and was serving water to the travelers in the next compartment. I was disappointed; I wanted to talk to that kid. I was not sure about what, but I was dejected.
‘Our’ uncle also approached him to fill his 2 liter bottle. As he was filling water into the bottle, the train gave the whistle getting ready to move. Uncle started shouting at him, hurling abuses as to he was such a lazy worker. The kid hurried and while filling the bottle I could see that most of the water was falling down rather than getting into the bottle. As the train set off to move, uncle speeded up his own train of insults. I was feeling very bad for the kid and this uncle was starting to get on my nerves. How could he talk to a kid like that?
The kid was also trying to hurry up and in doing so he spilled more water. And as I saw the spilled water that was flowing towards the kid’s feet and taking along with it the mud and the dust I felt better. This was probably nature’s way of providing a mud-pack to soothe his blisters. I guess nature is not that cruel as we accuse it to be.
The bottle was full now, uncle owed him 2 rupees for the bottle, but by now the train had started moving and this man boarded the train. I was wondering when he was going to pay the kid. The kid was running after him, pleading him to pay and spilling more water. In the end he did not pay the kid, and the kid fell down splashing all his water covering all of his body with mud and water, the mud pack. For his face his tears were helping him. All I could do was take out a 5 rupee coin from my jeans pocket and throw it backward in his direction. I don’t know if he got the coin, or if it would have sufficed for his loss, but suddenly I felt my vision being blurred by tears. I’m not sure if they were because of sympathy for that boy or rage for that insensitive person.
I felt like shouting at that man, giving him my piece of mind. But as he came back with that wicked victorious smile his son woke up, asking for water, his t-shirt all wet because of perspiration. Aunty offered him water in a glass. I thought aunty would say something to her husband as she had been a spectator in all this. But to my surprise she did not say a word. I could have yelled at that man, but I had to exercise my self control to keep from doing that. This guy was probably his son’s hero, all I could say was, “Perhaps your son thinks you are his hero because you got him water when he needed but he doesn’t know that these are the tears of another child. For just 2 rupees you have made a child cry and spoiled his day. I guess he should be ashamed of you. Thank your stars that he is too young to realize it.”
This stunned the uncle aunty. The other couple was also silent. They had witnessed the incident. I was waiting they would retort but they did not. Possibly they had finally realized their mistake or were just too dumbstruck to snap back.
I moved my face towards the window and as the wind struck my face, drying out the tears across my face, I thought of the kid smoldered in nature’s mud pack. I wiped the remaining moisture from my face.
