I'm back from Kerala after a week of fun with my cousins. Wish I could stay back. Actually it was not a week. I left on the 7th and reached Kerala on the 9th and came back to Mumbai on the 14th. Took three days to reach Kerala. Yeah...our very own, long-forgotten Jayanti Janta (JJ).
Remember? The very dry and hot Andhra, the fragrance of mallikai in Tamil Nadu and some cucumber salads in Karnataka. And finally you reach destination Kerala. But this time as the monsoon clouds decided to extend their stay, Andhra was looking beautiful with a blend of yellow (from the sunflowers) and green (the paddy fields).
The reason for taking up this tiring and tormenting journey was quite silly actually. Long ago when I used to travel to Kerala by the JJ, I would invariably come across this tribal family that sold stuffed squirrel toys. Sounds eerie...right? Well, it's not. These tribals would hunt for squirrels to fill their hungry stomachs and then make beautiful toys out of the skin that remains. Mongooses and squirrels were there forte. And the toys always ceased to look like toys. They looked amazingly real.
In this particular family, there used to be a little girl whom I used to see every year. She was probably my age. She would wait for the train to slow down so that she could display her wares and earn a few pennies. She was dirty and looked as if she hadn't thought of a bath for the last so many years. Her clothes were soiled and they always emitted a dirty stench. But her face was so beautiful that it had the power of taking you into a state of trance. Her light brown eyes would never fail to charm the onlooker. And her lips were always red as she would be constantly chewing on a paan. There was something about this girl that called for immediate attraction.
Now this was long back, around fourteen years or so.
Since the coming of the Netravati Express, the JJ route remained as a historical reference. And so did that tribal girl. Now, when I got a chance to travel by the JJ again I was mighty thrilled.
I was eagerly waiting for the train to cross the Maharashtra border. Once we reached Andhra, I refused to even sleep, dreading the thought that my sleep may come in the way of my encounter with that tribal girl. I had images of her waiting at the station, running towards the slowing train with squirrels and mongooses.
But I was disappointed. The stations kept passing one after the another. My eyes were growing weary and I was losing hope. I was really getting desperate. It was as if I got this last chance to meet a friend with whom I had only shared glances and not a single word, a friend who once SOLD her toys to me, a friend who was like me but maybe not as fortunate. The feeling is inexplicable. My brother kept scolding me for losing sleep for someone whom I didn't even knew, though he too remembered seeing the brown-eyed girl.
Finally the last station at Andhra arrived. I saw those brown eyes and dishevelled hair. My heart skipped a beat. There she was. Still the same. Selling the same stuffed toys. She still bore the look of a fourteen-year old. Her lips hadn't changed colour which meant that she was still addicted to paan. Our eyes met. Maybe she was also waiting for me. She started tracing her steps towards me. There was a sudden pat on my elbow. It startled me. I smiled at the old woman who was begging for something to eat. I gave her a few bananas. She blessed me for being considerate and walked away. I looked up to see my tribal friend. She had disappeared. She wasn't there. She was never there.
My brother looked at me and said, maybe she was there on one of the platforms and you must've failed to recognise her. You were looking for a fourteen-year old. She must have grown into a woman now.
Yeah...quite possible. She must have grown-up into a fine young woman. Maybe she was married to a drunkard. Maybe she had gone through hardships. Maybe she isn't alive anymore.
I think I should end this search. I will always have her in my heart, deep in the innermost recesses of my mind. Beautiful as ever. Then why hunt for her?
Madness, isn't it? Sheer madness.
Remember? The very dry and hot Andhra, the fragrance of mallikai in Tamil Nadu and some cucumber salads in Karnataka. And finally you reach destination Kerala. But this time as the monsoon clouds decided to extend their stay, Andhra was looking beautiful with a blend of yellow (from the sunflowers) and green (the paddy fields).
The reason for taking up this tiring and tormenting journey was quite silly actually. Long ago when I used to travel to Kerala by the JJ, I would invariably come across this tribal family that sold stuffed squirrel toys. Sounds eerie...right? Well, it's not. These tribals would hunt for squirrels to fill their hungry stomachs and then make beautiful toys out of the skin that remains. Mongooses and squirrels were there forte. And the toys always ceased to look like toys. They looked amazingly real.
In this particular family, there used to be a little girl whom I used to see every year. She was probably my age. She would wait for the train to slow down so that she could display her wares and earn a few pennies. She was dirty and looked as if she hadn't thought of a bath for the last so many years. Her clothes were soiled and they always emitted a dirty stench. But her face was so beautiful that it had the power of taking you into a state of trance. Her light brown eyes would never fail to charm the onlooker. And her lips were always red as she would be constantly chewing on a paan. There was something about this girl that called for immediate attraction.
Now this was long back, around fourteen years or so.
Since the coming of the Netravati Express, the JJ route remained as a historical reference. And so did that tribal girl. Now, when I got a chance to travel by the JJ again I was mighty thrilled.
I was eagerly waiting for the train to cross the Maharashtra border. Once we reached Andhra, I refused to even sleep, dreading the thought that my sleep may come in the way of my encounter with that tribal girl. I had images of her waiting at the station, running towards the slowing train with squirrels and mongooses.
But I was disappointed. The stations kept passing one after the another. My eyes were growing weary and I was losing hope. I was really getting desperate. It was as if I got this last chance to meet a friend with whom I had only shared glances and not a single word, a friend who once SOLD her toys to me, a friend who was like me but maybe not as fortunate. The feeling is inexplicable. My brother kept scolding me for losing sleep for someone whom I didn't even knew, though he too remembered seeing the brown-eyed girl.
Finally the last station at Andhra arrived. I saw those brown eyes and dishevelled hair. My heart skipped a beat. There she was. Still the same. Selling the same stuffed toys. She still bore the look of a fourteen-year old. Her lips hadn't changed colour which meant that she was still addicted to paan. Our eyes met. Maybe she was also waiting for me. She started tracing her steps towards me. There was a sudden pat on my elbow. It startled me. I smiled at the old woman who was begging for something to eat. I gave her a few bananas. She blessed me for being considerate and walked away. I looked up to see my tribal friend. She had disappeared. She wasn't there. She was never there.
My brother looked at me and said, maybe she was there on one of the platforms and you must've failed to recognise her. You were looking for a fourteen-year old. She must have grown into a woman now.
Yeah...quite possible. She must have grown-up into a fine young woman. Maybe she was married to a drunkard. Maybe she had gone through hardships. Maybe she isn't alive anymore.
I think I should end this search. I will always have her in my heart, deep in the innermost recesses of my mind. Beautiful as ever. Then why hunt for her?
Madness, isn't it? Sheer madness.
2 comments:
well written post, reading it made me nostalgic
I always loved train trips to Kerala...chatting with fellow passengers, sipping coffee, getting down at stations even late at night, playing cards, antakshari..sitting on the doorway and watching the world passed by...I can go and on..
these moments are the ones which makes the journey truly memorable
Train journeys are always an experience. And in a country like ours, it's an interesting experience.
My ears get tuned to the constant chanting of chaaya, kaapi, vadai, bread omelette and water. They all have the same tenor, tone, volume, everything. And as you said, getting down at stations was such an exciting adventure, especially with moms pleading to get in before the train moved.
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