TYPICAL TAMIL FOLK

I felt a trickle of sweat travel slowly from the soft spot behind my right knee to my ankle as if with some divine purpose. My shirt top was stuck to my skin. I was regretting my decision to wear my cotton pants. To top it all, the Mangalore – Coimbatore passenger was moving at such an unbearably slow pace that life, I felt, could not get any more miserable.

What’s so miserable in traveling in a passenger train from Shornur to Coimbatore, you ask. Nothing, under normal circumstances. But these are not normal circumstances – these involve me. I am one of those few people on earth who love wallowing in self-pity, which is buttressed by a uniquely strong sense of pessimism. I am someone who thinks that I am overblessed with every thing in life, and hence do not deserve any of the gifts of life like a warm loving home, excellent education, a salary to kill for and two friends who would do anything for me.

Sleep refused to oblige me and I was beat. I started observing the fellow passengers. On my right hand side was a young girl – sleeping beauty. To my left, a fat Muslim lady with 2 kids – surprisingly silent. On the opposite side were what I considered “typical tamil folk” - black, over dressed with no sense of cleanliness what so ever and a kid whose nose kept running. Oh! The misery continues.. what esteemed company!

Come Palakkad and there was a welcome change of scenario. I shift next to my mom, a few seats behind. What seemed a second back like a comparatively empty cubicle was suddenly crowded – we were 5 on each opposing seat and these were also specimen earlier described as “typical tamil folk”. Oh Boy! This just keeps getting better and better. There was something under the seat brushing against my feet, some kind of basket. Shit! 6 of the 8 people apparently knew each other well, some kind of train friends (I thought that this species of women was restricted only to the local trains of Mumbai. Obviously I was wrong!). One of the others left shortly and one of them seemed to have got sucked into the band of friendship, that was forged between the six.

They started speaking in the loudest most obnoxious manner about what I expected “sapad”. My God! Don’t they have any other topic than this.. such low IQ levels and such sub standard people……

I was trying so hard not to listen to the conversation that I was actually paying a lot of attention to it…
“I come home and the entire house is a mess…. My son tells me – u don’t interfere in this mom, my friends were here … what do I do? He would be happy if I were to stay in my quarters”……
“ I am doing a double shift today.. just reached home from the morning shift at 3 in the after noon and here I am going back for the night shift”…
“his friends are too many ….but they are good kids, that’s a relief”…”
“paavam ponnu, let her sleep at least for an hour” all of them helped the girl up to the “luggage only” shaft above the seat…”nee toong ma.. we will call u at Coimbatore”.

I was surprised; I was actually getting interested in the conversation. Mom started talking to the woman next to us, turns out she and the rest of her family work in the Indian railways.. they are 5 sisters..the one sitting opposite to us is one of them, the girl next to her, is her niece.. teaches computers and Hindi at a local school (surprising, I didn’t know that Hindi was taught in Tamil Nadu), stays close to the station, reaches home by 8.00 at night and has to leave the house at 3:00 am for the next shift (when does she sleep? Where does she get the energy to be so bubbly?)… the girl gets up to get something to eat. We, who are totally out of the entire conversation are offered a bite.. we are forced to take our share.. we are offered water after the snack (why are these people so kind to strangers???)
They enquire about us.. when we say that we are from Mumbai …. their eyes open wide with astonishment.. “Is Mumbai a big city?” (such innocence still exists?).. they ask whether we were harmed by the recent floods (why do they care so much???).
They ask about where I live in Coimbatore and where I work…they are worried I might not be able to afford my locality – the most posh area in Coimbatore.. Mom tells them my salary and they are flabbergasted…I earn every month what they cumulatively earn maybe in half a year…I’m embarrassed… but they tell me…”we get pension..we are government employees…you work in a private company.. save all you can now.. you will not get pension” (after knowing the size of my salary they are still worried about me! Are these human beings? Aren’t they jealous???)
There was pookariamma who stays near chinna radio station. Her name is Malli amma.. but every one calls her pookariamma… she goes thrice a week to Kozhikode to sell flowers… that disgusting thing that I stamped and pushed below my seat were her means of livelihood… I whimper and moan to travel a short comfortable journey just because I have to carry a suitcase and a laptop!! And this woman travels from Coimbatore to Calicut to sell flowers!!! They spoke fairly good Malayalam and we spoke pathetic Tamil….Didn’t know when Poddanur arrived..

I was blessed by these people …. Literally.

God blessed me by allowing me to spend an hour of my life with human beings who still care, who are energetic about life, who know to laugh, who are optimistic, who shower affection without condition, who bless from the heart…I was blessed in the company of “typical Tamil folk”!