Two angels in the train
The Kacheguda Express from Mysore Junction was rearing to go. “Three minutes,” flashed the overhead LED sign. Footsteps of late-comers hastened towards coach no: 7 and I kept snapping at their heels to board the train.
Sea of heads stacked like books on a rack, occupied the berths. Bodies in double file stood in the aisle like sentinels on duty, and made the movement slow and cumbersome. Through the narrow channel in between these human walls, I tiptoed to my reserved seat.
“Seat no: 44 is reserved,” my voice rang out firm and clear in the din of chatter. Without murmur, the young occupant vacated the seat and I managed to squeeze my 38'' waist into the vacant slot. The rest of the berth was occupied by four women and a cute kid.
The passengers occupying the edge of the berths were perilously holding on to their swaying perch as the train gathered steam. However, everyone was not engaged in a mortal combat with the galloping train. Right in front of me, on seats 45 to 47, were two gents – seemed to be the father and an uncle – accompanying an eight-year-old girl seated between them. Peers among the under dogs, they were so confident of their rights as reserved passengers, that they provided their stuffed air bags comfy seating, to the envy of passengers frantically searching for a few square inches to squat.
Among the hopefuls coveting the seat of the air bags was a buxom lady - plump as a partridge. Clad in a pretty mauve sari, she drew much attention. Thick, black tresses cascading down her shoulder enhanced her charm. Perhaps, the air of sophistication she exuded gave the impression that she was the most deserving of the space the silly bags occupied. Sanguine about her prospects, she approached the uncle gent,
“Swalpa adjust maadi.” (“Please adjust a little.”)
Did he hear it? Of course, he did, though he pretended to be stone deaf. At the repetition of the request, the eyes hardened and the brow knitted into a scowl.
“ Reserved !” the words were cold and pitiless.
”Poor lady,” I said to myself in empathy. “What an ordeal to keep herself steady in the train that was doing the rock and roll!” Frustrated, with a reproachful pout, she plumped down in the aisle, just as the meeker ones had done earlier, without a whimper.
The seating problem having been temporarily solved, the men folded their legs in a half-lotus pose to enjoy the ride. Little Dharshini, their darling, was made to stand at the window and enjoy a small packet of Lays potato chips that her father opened.
A couple of chips at a time, Darshini brought out, and relished them without haste. Then on an impulse, she turned towards our berth and met the eyes of the little girl, sliding up and down from her mother’s lap.
The light brown hair playing mischievously around her oval face in the breeze, and the hint of naughtiness in her sparkling eyes made her a cutie! The two of them hit it off instantly. Taking a few wafers in her hand, Darshini gestured to the little one: “Want?” The little one nodded and was instantly rewarded. Tickled by the taste, she held out her hand for more. The mother protested, ”Don’t give!” The cutie would hear none of it, and crunched delightfully at Darshini ‘s largesse.
Halt at Mandya, brought in a young mother with a baby in her arms and a husband in tow. Certainly, they were eying the forbidden spot of the airbags. Wonder of wonders, without even a request, the gent uncle took down the bags and the young mother eased into the seat, with a sigh of immense relief. How was he overcome with such humanity? I wondered. Perhaps, little Darshini had taught him a silent lesson: the joy of sharing without questioning!
When the chips were over, the two parted company for a while. Still, they kept looking at each other smilingly. Affection expressed so warmly without utterance! Darshini cajoled her father to part with his phone. As the little one slid down from her mother’s lap, Darshini held her with one arm, and in the next instant was on a video call with her mother. Laughing delightfully, she held the phone before the little one and showed her to her mother. Her mother seemed to share her daughter’s immense joy. Then, drawing the little one to herself, she took a picture. The little one was really enjoying her brief celebrity status.
As the train approached the Majestic station, passengers were busy preparing themselves for the arrival. I sat back just to observe the parting of the little hearts. The elder girl hugged the little one and left, while the little one waved her little hand in goodbye.
“Come, Ayesha,” beckoned a young man to the cutie, and hoisted her up in his arms.
“Muslims?” I was trying to figure out. A close scrutiny of the couple confirmed my hunch.
Would this revelation at the outset, have allowed such a beautiful friendship to bloom?
Comments
Post a Comment