The train rolled away from the station, leaving behind a bustling life of vendors and waving relatives biding adieu to their dear one’s. As the train picked speed, a sense of having left behind a distinct lifestyle slowly descended on me. Each railway station in India has a distinct culture and mannerism. The dialect, attire, the services, it’s people are all unique and different in their own way. A journey through the country is a lesson on the rich cultural diversity of an unexplored nation, that continues to surprise it’s very inhabitants.

I looked around to find my new neighbours who had occupied the seat besides me. It was a young “just married “couple. I had noticed them seeking blessings of the elders at the station, as they set forth together on a new journey in life, far away from home. A typical scene often seen in the movies.

As the young woman settled into her seat, she let free the dupatta (Indian attire) which until then was around her head. A sense of relief from the ‘ traditional suffocation ‘was visible as she got into a lively conservation with her husband. She for certain had left behind her conservative self at the previous station! The man on his part scanned the other passengers with a sense of caution, typical of a protective husband. A little smile from my end eased his nerves as he reciprocated with a handshake, breaking into a conversation.

A train journey creates new friends, where people try to seek similarities to keep a conversation going. Many a times, the friendship only lasts till you reach your destination, while some blossom into relationships that last a lifetime. Each person has a story untold.

In a few minutes, I was back to my secluded corner listening to music on my cell phone, as the train chugged past green fields with little homes visible at a distance. A distinct smell of ‘railway smoke’ engulfed the air, as vendors made their way through the bogey, selling tea and eateries. Their stereotypical tone and style, is a mimics wonderland and instantly reminded me of my school days. I would mime the various voices at the railway station to garner attention of the pretty girls in my class. Today, in retrospect I could only but laugh at those foolish acts.

A distinct sound of the harmonium playing the latest bollywood hit songs pierced the air, as a father and his little daughter made their way through the sleeper class seeking alms . Eunuchs, beggars and many a time hopelessly lazy people use the train as a means to survival, seeking money from people who pay them out of frustration. Years of travel had thought me to ignore them at first sight by turning away with a stone cold face as they persistently nudged you for money.

The man on the harmonium was playing a famous Shahrukh Khan love song, tailor-made to suit the young couple who cared little for them. The girl must have been 5 years old, wearing a torn dress with shabby hair and an overflowing nose. In her hand was a little utensil she used to seek money, while her father played the instrument .It was a pity sight. In disgust I turned away, gazing out of the window, munching a packet of chips to keep myself pre-occupied. A sense of irritation persisted as I anxiously waited for the father-daughter duo to leave my compartment, when a little hand gently tugged my pant. Unmindful of the attempt, I nodded a vehement NO, without even looking at the girl. I for certain wasn’t going to pay her any money. I detested her act and the man seemed like a villain, who was putting the little girl through all this shame.

The girl continued to hold my jeans seeking attention. In disgust, I turned around to shrug her away, when I noticed the little eyeballs gazing at the packet of chips. As I looked, her hands symbolically touched the dry lips, seeking a few chips to appease her growing hunger. For a prolonged second, I gazed at her, unable to cope with the gravity of the moment. The skeletal girl was starving, while the world continued to ignore her. I quickly recouped to give her the entire packet of chips, as she happily left, munching bits of flavored potato.

She may not have been right in her act to seek money, but above all was a little hungered child fighting for survival. A child, who by fate was forced into stretching her arms for help. She had, but little choice in life.

As I got off the train, there was a sense of satisfaction of having provided little food to a starving stomach. Such are the ways of life.

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