Pilgrim Sights-6.10 L.P

Come November,it is a big sigh for the ordinary traveller.It meant another precious five minutes in the already needed walking, running,jumping routine to reach the compartment.Not because suddenly the platform became big, or the 6.10 shuttle shifted location from platform 3 but the new event called hurdle introduced in the daily schedule.

The hurdle was people from different places converged here to go the yearly famous pilgrimage to Sabarimala.They boarded buses or took taxis from here for the last leg of their journey. They rested in the space available from the gate spilling over to platforms.Some in circles chanting hymns with lit lamps,with the holy ash liberally sprinkled all over the body,some changing clothes, others in deep slumber in haphazard rows,others having breakfast or sipping tea.

Women in general had to be cautious because the pilgrims had taken 45 days celibacy vows So,we had to walk gingerly on tiptoes without stamping any one,without touching anyone and without losing balance as if mines had been planted.The stress and tension filled moments left one high and dry during this season.

The guard of 6.10 was a little liberal but could not overdo because train crossings were timed.People had no idea  of who they were because each one was busy trying to reach the platform and board the train.A big sigh of relief once inside.

The next visual was of bathing scenes on the tracks Young old men in black  taking bath on the vacant tracks using the water from  pipes meant for refilling the long distance trains.The soap foamed faces, the water gushing out , mass bathing, tooth brushes in mouth,shouting from the platform to make it quick as an express train was due, washing all went in full swing,total cacophony, making up for the sights and sounds of an otherwise drab station in the morning.

Next two months was nerve wrecking at both ends till the season ended with a trickle and normalcy resumed.

The Evening 6.10 L.P

 By evening, these women had tired faces though the sari’s were in place. Again a repeat marathon from offices through heavy traffic,  through all the shortcuts possible to catch the return local passenger again which is at 6.10 p.m. 

Most of the people got seats because a lucky many were working in Govt offices. They could leave office early as there was an adjustment between supervisors and staff. They would board the intercity superfast with limited stops and reach earlier.

was in the relaxed evening ride there would be some space to lie down and take a power nap by turns for an hour or so to be fresh once again for the chores to be finished before sleep kissed the eyes at home.

Some cut vegetables so that they could cook straight away, some corrected papers, some studied balance sheets, some studied to upgrade their education to get that increment, while some stared out aimlessly at one more day gone by into the pitch dark outside.

 For the remaining few, it was reaching the station by eight at night  where husbands would be waiting in lungis for the select few. The remaining others running to catch a bus to reach home by nine.

The private buses, with their daily last ride of commuters, were a lot more understanding than the people at home. They understood the daily grind of these hard working women, who had no one to offer a cup of coffee or a word of appreciation after a hard day’s work. 

The  daily commuters climbed on to the buses whether it was  Bobby, Sweety, Lovely, Killichundan, Aiswarya, Aswathi,Unnikrishnan or so. The drivers drove like no man’s business and reached these women to their designated stops on time ,for them to cook and teach and do other chores.

The steady evening passengers were a close knit lot ,always anxious of everyone having got in, since this was the last local. If  you missed this ,then it was only the midnight express train.The ladies compartment was next to the guards who frequently checked at every station. The women were friendly with him , because the train would not move without his whistle. They cajoled him to a five minutes when friends were late and thanked him profusely at the end of the day.

Another Ten Minutes 6.10 L.P

Just ten minutes away for all to get down. A sudden flurry of activity, movement,jostling, raised voices, some rushing to the door to be the first to get out, to catch the bus to reach the office which would be a half hour away. Some powdering their faces, others combing their hair , wiping their faces to look fresh before reaching office.

None of them had offices outside the station. They had to walk or take a rick or bus to reach office just in time lest their salary be cut for coming in late. They ran and brisk walked once again to plonk on their chairs at office to start work.

There were heavily pregnant ladies almost nearing full term, just conceived, some with severe bouts of morning sickness, or some who left their kids behind unwell or some who kept all food and water beside the bedridden mother-in-law. There was a whole lot of different kinds.

Gossips, crying, tears streaming down as if river in spate, pent up anger, all venting took in this travel gap putting all counselors at bay. Every passenger understood,” our problems are not so much as the other what I saw and heard.” No one offered suggestions; no one took sides because it was just time for garbage to be out to keep head clear.

The scene changed.

The train halted, they stepped out cheerful and disappeared  among the multitude of passengers on the platform to their destinations 

First Hour of 6.10 L P

The clean clothes after the early morning bath,spilling fragrance of  different soaps, added to the fresh morning look, to catch the morning undisturbed sitting or standing  nap on one leg or one bum or just perched on the edge.This was  the sole privilege the women enjoyed, in the morning 6.10 local passenger, ladies compartment. 

By the time they woke from the power nap which  some continued,  the aroma of eating packed breakfast would sail across, with hands washed out of the windows or wiped with cloth lest you lost your space. However there were always a considerate few, who sat for one hour and gave their standing counterparts some respite. 

There was this women who got her daughter married with as many loans she could muster, the repayment of which would perhaps would continue even after she retired. She was sad with tears  as how to handle the first delivery of her child. Her husband suffered a stroke and without timely medication was paralyzed and bedridden. She spoke with love of her good old days and never thought of her husband as a burden. She was the epitome of love and sunshine though deep in debts. Whom to ask , how to ask she thought as she swallowed her tears.

Then there was this Mary who had long past her marriageable age . Reason dowry constraint. Yet she looked forward  to that one day when the maid would become a woman. She cringed and saved every last penny for there was none to vouch for her back home. She even saved the fifty paise every  morning her bus fare when she managed to get a lift to the railway station.

Julie’s is another tale to tell. The whole bogie came to a standstill hearing her cries. She lost the back screw of her earring. All the women were on their knees scrambling not bothered about the well starched  sari’s crumpling, lending a hand . It was like searching for a needle in a haystack. The earring was the smallest any one could buy but for her it was the costliest thing she had.  Her heart wrenching cries made us all cringe with shame. She was beautiful and joyful person .But now the sadness and sorrow showed on her face.

Now, proposals for bride and groom  was a common norm in trains, as  the flow of lives emerged with natural grace. Soon a proposal came by to accept her as she was. Simply put when we go to buy vehicles in "as is condition". The daily friends contributed to buy her clothes and the little paraphernalia she would love. She was overwhelmed with joy and gave us a chocolate each. The marriage was solemnized in her local perish with just the people needed.

Occasional fights were a common sight but no one bothered with these trivialities. Every morning without fail the first few moments were spent in prayer with groups singing praising the Lord. There was no competition. The groups which travel led together had their space which no one intruded as at the end of the day everyone’s mission was the same.

The 6.10 Local Passenger !

Now this was the cheapest daily mode, to the countless many , who travel-led from the interiors of land locked hilly regions, to job available city regions, far away to earn a living. The sums earned varied from handsome to paltry. The reasons to work also differed. 

Some to find their peace, others to be away from home, some to escape mental torture, some to contribute to the family kitty, some to be away from drunkard husbands, some to shirk work at home, some to have a nice time, still some to escape the wily mother-in-law when husband went to work. Some because of transfers as this was a preferred mode of travel. Some to escape the always wanting-sex husband who did not want to work or the roving eyes of the father-in-law or brother-in-law. The list goes on without repetition of reasons, more than you can imagine.

 All these women with very little privileges in life converged into bogies specially meant for them even if it meant being packed like sardines. They avoided the general for fear of being groped, brushed and leered at. Also, to save them from unwelcome comments. Not that these leering men did not have women at home to satisfy their carnal desires. But why waste a chance as variety is the spice of life.

The women in particular were the ones who took the brunt of all the work, though puny in size but willpower as infinite as the vast desert lands, to keep their lives going and preserve their dignity.They were not vying with any one but just doing their bit to ensure their progeny did not have to slog it off like them. They were headlong into making a better brighter days ahead for them. They had nothing to fall back upon other than the wages of their labour received every month .No insurance,no social security for their old age, just believed and had faith in God and moved forward.

These women got up as early as three or four, cooked, cleaned, washed for the day, packed lunchboxes, kissed their children goodbye to catch the first bus at five to reach the railway station  by six , run a marathon from the nearest bus stop ,climbing the over bridge or crossing the tracks on the sly ,to plonk themselves on the  bug infested  wooden benches of the local train which left sharply to reach destination in the next two hours which faithfully spilled to an extra hour and half .

Because of athithi devo bhava attitude instilled to wait patiently for all the express trains entering  to pass by.As these were long distance trains from the remaining parts of India. It also added up to the fact  that  those passengers had  paid heftily  for the comforts  on wheel rails whereas the local passengers were just the country cousins.

 Do not for a moment think that these women were spineless, hapless individuals. They were hardworking individuals contributing to GDP and NI keeping together families in their own way. No filthy rich backgrounds nor cash rich husbands for them to think of divorce at the drop of a hat. It is these women who contribute in raising children who reach bigger heights with good jobs and pay packets.Of course there is always an exception of children who milked the parents dry,but were few and far .They are the unsung , unnoticed people who contribute to our society to make it a better place. They lead  below mediocre average lives and are proud women. 

The 6.10 train morning or evening lugged all without any discrimination and whistled along gaining speed and halting when required at the sight of the flag  green and red or the sound of a shrill whistle.

Many a tale of joy and sorrow emerged.Some became wise on hearing, others on seeing while others joined in animated discussions and few others were passive , mute spectators. Each day had the unfolding of a new story to tell and hear, with the actors changing or remaining the same making the journey a memorable one.

A True Reflection-Post Production

 A mail from daughter to mother.(an extract)

"The year that could mark the starting of the troubles I have been giving you.The first that I will be spending away from you. And there are a few things I would like to say.

From here on, I don't know how my life is going to pan out but I know that I will be fine. I know that because whenever I have been hit with circumstances, the decision making ability in me has been hardwired to function rationally. Sure, there have been some emotional flops here and there but everyone has them. In my case a little more pronounced than the others. 

The reason why even in times of extreme crisis I can manage to respect, be morally grounded, be just and not be dominating is because I have been taught to be larger than just my  existence by someone who saw me through the years and embedded in me the grains of lessons, for surviving life so deep, that its a part of my system now. 

Maybe they were intentionally instilled, maybe it just passed on to me as a reflection of you. Maybe its just the genes. But all maybes end with it being sourced from you. 

Everyone has ups and downs. You have had enough and more of yours. Our family as individuals and as a unit has had aplenty. But that's the same story for everyone. We all have worries. Its perhaps the only thing constant in life. Let me tell you why these ups and downs don't worry me anymore.

 Let me take you back to a time when I was broken beyond a point where I thought I can ever be fixed. I was a wreck. I remember someone holding me with tears brimming in her eyes and telling me "I'm solidly behind you.' You have always been. Through ups and downs both. Through the ups you never stepped up to claim the credit of being with me, but through the lows, you made sure you were there for me. Through the ups you were an invisible hand, letting me take all the glory of little victories.

 Like  when you stood and clapped so gleefully as I won races and got that award. Everyone thought that it was all me. I would like to believe that it was all me who did it but that would be lying. I remember having stood in front of you and practiced my debate speech a million times before I went on stage. Those little victories had me in it of course, but, the resilience to spring back and never stay down comes from you. 

Next time anyone tells you that your upbringing has been wrong or you tell yourself that. I want you to read this and or tell yourself that no matter what choices your kids have made in life that has led to their growth or downfall, you've taught them well how to spring back to life.

And that humans are bound to make mistakes, but instead of just telling us to be careful about our choices and foresee the repercussions of it, you've made sure that when we falter we come back up as better people. 

Sure, choices and their repercussions hurt. 

I hope you can let them go for us.

I hope for my sake that you let them go because I have learnt my lessons late in life and I don't want to waste a single more second of my life making the same mistakes I made before. Nor do I want to make fresh ones.

I hope, that this new year, for the last time, you make one massive sacrifice for me and let the past go. Because I can't see a tear in your eye or handle your shaky voice when these things get to you. Because I don't want another moment in our lives to go in suffering. We've suffered enough.

 I hope that I can give you more prominent reasons to be happy for rest of our lives and as I strive towards it, I hope you can have faith and make do with the efforts that you can see me make. 

I hope that this year, the world changes around for you. I hope your stars realign. Because its unfair to see you take the brunt of things when you've given us so much more than the world can calculate or fathom......"