The journey from Dadar to Yeshwantpur was just as tiring, though it lived up to its `part as friends when you get off a train' bit. Co-passengers were carefully multi-lingual for a start. I call it the Raj effect. They would speak in as many as three languages...trying to gauge which language we husband and wife spoke. In a while, we realised that none among us were Maharashtrians or had any bigots in our midst ...most of them just heading home. Southwards. To Bangalore. For a refreshing Diwali. The excitement had to be seen to be felt.
We wanted to fix our food packets and water bottles. The fittings - unassuming but crucial accessories for luggage and water, were missing. The bogie looked like its berths and partitions had not got cleaned for ages. Worse - this train did not have a dustbin in its bogies. Green wannabes like us obviously scampered for plastic covers that served as dust-bins.
Some trains have Laloo's blessings. Other's get cursed by his and the burgeoning railway machine's neglect. For the whole part of the night that we boarded Chalukya Express, there was no sign of the ticket checker. Probably they safely avoided the headache of having to provide berths for waiting list candidates! Night over, the wait-listers and sneakers from unreserved compartments made their exit or moved about elsewhere. Safe for the ticket examiner's entry!
It's interesting to note how the ticket checking pattern is so unique to trains from Mumbai towards South, and backwards. And leaves passengers with confirmed tickets, at wits end on how to make their berths and baggage safe for the night. For, those who sneak in are experts. They make themselves comfortable on a pal's berth, on the floor, near the toilets, just about anywhere. They know they will not be thrown off the coach!
The real cause for all their trouble is that unreserved bogies are too few for too many. And a nightmare if you travel with children on an unplanned trip. But do the railways care? Their coffers are full anyways in the season's rush!
One doesn't need to travel in A/C cars at night this season. Just make sure you get the lower berth and get close to the window. Make sure you shut the glass door (which will slide up on its own anyways)...and cool wind will send you shivers. You cannot survive the night unless you're covered up!
The second part of the journey was nostalgic...for me at least. At Belgaum, where the train stopped, I got off the train to catch some fresh air and bought the Belgaum kunda (da pronounced as in `the'). Reminded me of those days years ago, when I first arrived on an investigation and spent sleepless nights!
The Ghataprabha, Tungabhadra and other small rivulets wading their way through rocks and so sombre in contrast with their monsoon fury...the sunflower fields, jowar and bajra crops...hues of green, black-brown soil, golden yellow of ready-for harvest crops...even passing by them on train was like coming back home!
Afternoon brought in warmth, but as the train progressed towards south, it only got cooler and cooler. By early evening passengers in our cubicle began to slowly chat up. When the train reached Tumkur, a eunuch came by for her moolah. The men were shocked as she perched herself on a guy's lap. He looked every bit an Airforce entrant and was too stunned by her behaviour. It prompted me to ask her...`Are you from Bangalore? I know Bangalore's hijras don't come in trains!' She said she was from Mumbai.
A couple of names I dropped from the hijra scene to check her authenticity, put her at ease and we got chatting while the men around us (my husband included) looked at us, scandalised. She said she would be back in a few minutes. And my co-passengers were trying to get over what just happened. A eunuch perching herself and pushing herself on them was a shocker...that a woman among them should get chatty with her was an even bigger shock to handle. She returned while I was still explaining about transgender rights to them. That's around when my husband revealed my journalist background to them.
The casual chat put me in touch with news on transgender front again. She said ration cards were no longer a problem for her lot. And that she was shifting base from Mumbai to Tumkur and had found a husband. ``I will get married in the court soon...'' I wondered and still wonder how the court would permit it...in the absence of laws to protect transgender people.
Gossip flowed too...but it was time for the train to move and her to get off...not sure if she made money that evening...for the business time she spent with me.
Her name was what floored everyone around. Madhuri Dikshit. She insisted it was her real name. And even gave me her number. She vanished just as quickly as she appeared.
It took a while for the bunch to veer its conversation on to other topics. They tied up with each other for auto-rickshaw rides to other parts of Bangalore, gave directions to first time visitors and even exchanged numbers as the journey drew to a close!
Yeshwantpur station was such a welcome sight on that rainy night! Slope replacing stairs so we could move baggage into the other platforms easier! Tubelights everywhere and a neat floor...such a far cry from the days I wrote about while in Indian Express! About five years back, politicians were in a great hurry to flag off trains from here, without caring much about developing the terminus.
I doubt if the waiting room is any good...for the huge crowd that settled itself in the lobby. There was something that made all my fatigue vanish after this. The ride back home...and the sight of my four month old nephew. Wow! What a finish!
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