A train journey- Short story

A Train journey (a short story)

The train left the station as usual after half an hour of the scheduled time. Train always has a fancy in our minds however old we are. Though I travel in electric trains everyday, I still like travelling in trains with the same spirit as I had years ago. I believe and am sure that every train traveller share similar feeling. The only possibility being the constraint of time and other mind occupying business, which is jealous of our train memories, and hence hinder our thoughts about trains. While traveling in metre gauge trains, which I can boldly claim with the reformations of railway department as yester year’s train, I always had the feeling of a cradle, which oscillates me gently (sometimes wildly). The smoke vomited from the head of the engine sometimes (many times) gifted me with nausea. Yet I have felt it with joy and pride.

Being a marketing executive in “J.K. Watches”, travelling to Tiruchirapalli from Chennai is so frequent that it has become like my daily travel. But, this is not the usual trip with a briefcase full of documents related to my business which hardly allows my shaving kit to breathe and mind preoccupied with full of data and figures; even my dreams are occupied with ‘ms excel data sheets’ swallowing the reservation for pretty ladies. This time I’m going to our family temple for the annual ceremony. The mere thought of the temple brings along with me the old memories of the temple. It is a small ‘Shiva temple’ wonderfully placed in that village. Anyone entering the village has to cross the temple. East side of the temple is full of paddy fields mostly the property of temple itself. Behind the temple is a slow running stream from which water is taken for shrine and later distributed to devotees as ‘theertham’ (holy water). The common sense when we become devotees is almost nil that we don’t even consider the fact that the holy water we take reaches us after bathing hundreds of buffalos and other cattle of village in the upstream. I remember, once when we went to the temple after my getting job through campus, Venkatachalam shastri, priest of the temple telling my father, “you people come once in a while to god and he gives job to your children and I’m coming here everyday; he doesn’t answer my prayers for my son’s job”. Very caringly, when my dad asked what his son studied, he innocently replied “eighth standard pass”. This statement is an example of the village’s vivid innocence; but my dad was little tensed when he compared an eighth standard education with a M.B.A from ‘Symbiosis business school”.

With these thoughts, I haven’t crossed the fifth page of the daily whose pages were dancing with the blowing warm wind. I saw the time. It was half past twelve. The train halted to take rest in a station before its forthcoming acceleration. An elderly man entered and seated opposite to me. Pure white dress in his dark body was contrasting. Had he not have a clean shave; his moustache would have reflected grey similar to his cotton like hair. He smiled at my co-travellers and me. He said a “hello” to everyone around and gradually started his conversation. I’m usually impressed by such characters about their ability to accost and adaptability as well as their talent to win others attention. I have not only been brought up as a reserved character, but also made least attempts to change myself for which I even faced some difficulties in my profession. The new member of the compartment introduced himself as Mr.A.K.Swaminathan . He turned to a man next to me and asked whether his sun sign is “Sagittarius”. The man with red colour T-shirt wondered lifting his long, thick eyebrows as much as possible and asked, “how do you know?”. The elderly man whom we started calling as swami sir replied, “You have a long nose and broad forehead which naturally symbolizes intelligence. Besides your palm lines show that there is a diversion from the main line and the secondary line tends to coincide with the lifeline. This is peculiar for Sagittarius people says books, and my experience also told me the same.” As soon as he finished the sentence, lots of people including me looked him with some curiosity. One of them who looked like a student came forward and asked whether swami sir knows palmistry. Swami Sir smiled very gently and told that he got interested in palmistry and later developed his knowledge through books. He also added that he is actually a journalist.

Much more looks came towards him. In the mean while the topic turned towards spiritualism as one of our fellow traveller told that he is returning from “mecca”, a pilgrimage for muslims. Swami Sir told that he has great respect for Islamic religion. He told that islam is the only religion which calls its fellow men personally by its “baang” unlike other religious practices of ringing a bell. Also the cleanliness maintained by muslims is great. He explained the difference between “mosque” and “darga”. When one of the other passengers argued that Hinduism is the best, swami sir intelligently quoted verses from “bhagawat gita” and “Quran” and explained that both meant the same. When swami sir told that Hinduism principles are polluted due to age, there were none to say no as everyone knows it is not “no”. The fluency of swami sir and the way he put forward his points were so wonderful which naturally proved that he is a journalist.

Then he turned to a child named “vignesh” and asked him some basic mathematical problems with apples and mangoes instead of numbers. I don’t know how vignesh got attracted to swami sir, but after some time swami sir had a lot of children around him, playing with him. He asked questions, acted to them, taught some games; if a blind man had traveled with us, he must have thought that swami sir is also one of the children in the gang. I really thought of my parents. In fact they too are same like swami sir to veena and venkat. Veena and venkat are my children. My father takes them for an evening walk and they learnt a lot from him. The association of children with grandparents is really the initialization of their intelligence in infancy.

I had a call in my cell phone. Oh! Long lives my dad. It was my dad on line. I said hello and told him that just then I was thinking about him. He must be happy with the statement. He asked me to come to my uncle’s house in tiruchirapalli as our family has been invited there for that day’s dinner. I said “ok”. After a usual normal dialogue, I kept my mobile.

Swami Sir was then talking about “Feynman lecture series” and “Stephen hawking” in physics. He talked about music, recreation, London publishers, world business, sensex, share market, discussed some classic novels, admired H.G.Wells and Robin Cook in the hands of my co-travellers and lot and lot of things. One man very seriously asked, “How come you are so informed and knowledgeable?”, the very question I would have asked had he not.

He recalled his flashback and said that he was working as a journalist in England. He writes novels also which are usually published by British publishers. He came to India to write a novel, based on an average Indian. He stayed in his native village in Tanjore district. His short period in India after very long stay in other land created an affinity towards his motherland that he stayed back in India. His son in England admonished him for the same. It was not very abstruse to feel his patriotism and in fact the crowd around accolade him for his decision. He further added that he was getting bored in India and have started a fortnight magazine, which is not yet popular; but he was sure that he would make it soon. One of the men in the crowd whose palm was first looked by swami sir subscribed an annual subscription for the magazine. Soon swami sir won lot of subscriptions. It is a very common practice in our society which psychologist, Mr.Edward sebastin quotes as “slave attitude due to fear in self”. Yes, no one is confident of deciding him or herself but try to go behind the crowd. Only for this reason, I didn’t subscribe controlling my greatest temptation thereby creating myself an exception in the list of psychologist, Mr.Edward.

I was feeling hot inside the compartment. Discussion with swami sir was still continuing. I was not abhorrent towards such discussion, but took less interest in participation. I slipped to the door to enjoy the breeze kissing my face during its busy voyage towards an aimless destiny. After some time, train abated its speed. I was an experienced traveller who is enough informed to understand that one of the railway stations is approaching to decelerate my train’s wheels. I moved beside when I saw swami sir with another old person who is almost dressed like him in the metal slab near toilet.

The new man asked swami sir,” what about today’s collection?”. Swami sir smiled till his lips touched his ears showing a bunch of currencies,”all heads are enough thick to be fooled. I started simply, but seeing the response, I continued and everyone believes that I’m really a London returned. Don’t worry; today’s collection is enough for one week. After returning this dress to laundry, we shall enjoy. “. The new man smiled, “you are lucky as well as talented. You can fool anyone easily. My compartment people didn’t respond properly. I just could win my lunch and little money. Let me hope best in my next attempt.”

They laughed and started a cigarette. Only then I really felt, the breeze was not that comfortable and went to my seat trying to recollect whether swami left any clue for others to understand that he is actually intelligent as everyone thinks, but a Fraud.