B1 61, Charminar Express

It was a normal Thursday evening, and I was waiting at the railway station for my train to Chennai, after a bout of homesickness. My last few journeys had all been with the most unfortunate co-passengers, including screaming infants, vomiting children or phlegm-filled old men who snored obnoxiously through the night. I was wary of the trials that awaited me this time, and looked around at the people surrounding my coach as the train slowly chugged to a halt. 

I waited for the crowd to thin before I entered the coach, As I entered my bay, I was greeted by a loud unpleasant sound. A large woman in a red saree, with a booming voice befitting her stature, was yelling nasally at everyone to move around to her convenience. I sighed dismally and looked around at the rest of my company for the night. There was a bunch of kindly old women, seemingly on some group pilgrimage, one of whom had a striking resemblance to my paati (grandmother). She was trying to calm the huge red lady down who was by then busy bullying a poor chap travelling in RAC, informing him in rapid hindi that men were supposed to stand when there were ladies around looking for a place to sit. She gestured towards her supposedly chivalrous husband who was standing for her despite just having had an operation and went on to tell him what she thought of his manners. I silently surmised that her husband was standing more out of fear than anything else and noticed that the others were exchanging glances suggesting that they were of the same view. The paati-doppelganger soon solved things by making space for everyone and calming the huge red lady down, and there was peace for a while. The conversation started getting pretty granny-ish there-on, with complaints of weak knees and back ache and fretting over having to climb to their berths. They sang my praises for a while after I offered to take one of their upper berths, while I was thanking my stars that I could retire up there with my book and escape any further commotion that might have broken out. But unexpectedly, travelling with this bunch turned out to be quite an intriguing eye-opener.

At first, all the Brahmin Tamil being thrown around did nothing but make me feel even more homesick. I had taken a liking to paati-doppelganger - she had a curt yet polite manner towards the huge red lady, which turned into active and friendly chatter when talking to her friends. She was very smart and full of optimism, you could tell from the way she talked. After a while the chit-chat lost its granny-ish nature, and the ladies launched into a discussion about the movie, Padayappa. They quoted a few dialogues, made a few jokes, and then went on to talk about how they liked travelling and what kind of places they liked to see. Contrary to popular belief, their list included a whole lot of places that were not temples. Every now and then, a few others of their company seated further down the coach would drop by to talk about the trip or about something funny that happened. They sure seemed an active lot for all the complaints about knee pain! One of the grannies took out a glass bottle and started doling out Aavaka Oorga (Mango Pickle) to everyone. I nostalgically recalled our days in the mess and how aavaka oorga was ever so often our saviour. They talked about food for a long while, and then we heard the familiar cry of the Charminar Express Chips Vendor - “Laysu biskeeeet, chipsu biskeeet!”. I was astonished to see one of the grannies jump up in excitement, it seemed she had been waiting a long while for the chips guy. She greedily took three packets from him, when she was stopped by paati-doppleganger - “Podhum! Evlo vaanguvel?” (Enough! How many will you buy?). It was all too reminiscent of my lays-bingeing habit. 

Meanwhile, the huge red lady had resumed her whining. They listened to it for a while and then snidely commented in tamil - “Andha sevappu podava ku romba periya aalu nu nenapu pola!” (That one in the red saree seems to have too big an opinion of herself). My already poorly-controlled mirth went up a notch at the open insult of the lady under her nose in a language she did not understand - a habit that my friends and I have developed recently. Soon, however, they seemed to decide that her behaviour did not merit their discretion and lapsed into english! Thus ensued another minor verbal scuffle and the huge red lady’s blood pressure was visibly rising. 

Just when I decided that they were very cool people, one of them mentioned that her granddaughter loved watching “tom and jerry serials”. I was torn between amusement and indignation at her choice of words, but I decided to pardon it in the interest of generation gap and a whopping first impression. 

Once the ticket-checking was done and everyone had settled down, they decided to have dinner. I followed suit and opened the sub that I had bought for the journey. Paati-doppelganger looked at me and said with a grin, “Apdiye Suman maadriye iruka! Avalum eppapathaaaalum subway, pizza nu saatundrupaa!” (You’re just like Suman! She keeps eating subs and pizzas too!). Turns out, Suman was her daughter, and the look of affection she gave me made my day! Soon, they revealed that they had intended to sing on the journey but the idea had been dampened by the tyrant couple. Some of their friends stopped by to say goodnight, and a few toilet-jokes followed. One particularly tall companion of theirs chit-chatted for a while, and after she left, they commented in hushed tones - “Nalla uyaram.. nallllla body!” (She’s very tall.. and has a great body!). It was all I could do to keep from bursting into laughter as I recollected the numerous similar ways in which my friends and I objectify each other.

The rest of the night passed without event and I woke in the morning to the sound of their animated chatter. I grinned to myself sleepily, wondering if all of it had been a glimpse into what my gang will be like at that age - or atleast those of us who manage to survive the inevitable battles against diabetes, cholestrol and obesity! And I think it was. It looks like we’re gonna be some pretty fun paatis.