Observations into a Pastime

24 April 2010

I have always been fascinated by railway stations. For one thing the place never sleeps or even relaxes for a second. The energy is always flowing no matter what ever is the time of the day or night. For another that is the only place where strangers are forced into close proximity of each other. At no other place can you see people being just themselves in unfamiliar surroundings. You can argue that the same is the scenario at the airport and the bus stop, but then it is not so. Airports are way too posh – the chances of finding a beggar are nil and things are way too organized to unite absolute strangers in chaotic situation. Bus stands – can be a competitor to the railway stations but then the time duration for which people stay there is minimal – buses usually do not get late by 10 hours due to fog. :(

Nothing is more fascinating to walk down the lengths of the station (if you have manageable or no luggage) or to sit quietly watching the crowds swirling in an organized madness. Or to hear to the endless announcements. The best one I remember from all those years of traveling is “Power cabin ke pilot jamadaar power cabin mein report karen” (The pilot cabin sweeper of the power cabin should report in the power cabin). Old Delhi Railway station is the only place that I have heard that one – once when Anshul and I were stranded there for a whole night in January – the announcer increasing delay in arrival by never more than an hour the announcement happened 47 times in 12 hours. Each time that ting-pong-pong sound went on, signaling another announcement and our ears stood up in the hope that this time it would be our train – it was usually the call of duty for the “Pilot Jamadaar”. In my mind, “Pilot Jamadaar” was one of those witches flying around on brooms…

Then there is that huge caravan of the so called needy people who are probably richer than me. The beggar whose body is wasted but the eyes were filled with the redness of drugs. The hinjra, who would be ready to blow out expletives (or worse take off clothes) at the drop of a hat. Or the lady with the naked child in her lap advertising her poverty with nothing except disinterest in her eyes. The moment the eyes of the crowd turn away from her she has abandoned the child on the floor and is seen enjoying away a bidi. She wouldn’t care if the child would scream off his lungs or fall on one of the tracks. And then there are children who would be insistent that I treat them to a Mc Donald’s burger- they aren’t interested in the home cooked food.

More often than not, I am in a state of distressed confusion whether or not to give alms to these people – especially to the last two categories I mentioned in the para above. The disdain that the woman shows towards a small child makes me boil with rage but then her plight is understandable. The child is a burden to feed and in all probability the end result of not love, not even lust but rape. The children who demand a Mc D burger instead of regular food are children after all – and it’s not their fault that they have no idea that it isn’t the healthiest food in the world. I have often sat back and reflected on the lives of those thousands of people who virtually are born, live and die on the railway station. For them it is the only home that they know of and more often than not the only profession that such a life teaches them is of stealing or begging. If I place myself in their shoes even taking drugs doesn’t seem wrong…for that’s the only way that they can dilute the harshness of life.

At other times I look at the whole thing from a more practical perspective. There are cases when the people aren’t needy and they beg because for them it’s the easiest thing to do. I remember once when I was sitting at the Varanasi station with my mother an able bodied woman of not more than 30 came asking for alms. My mother asked her if she was ready to work (the normal household work) for a salary of Rs. 500/- per month. The woman did not even reply and moved away. Come to think on those lines the disinterest in the woman’s eyes (in the case that I mentioned two paragraphs back, is nothing but unprofessionalism. If begging is all that she wants to do there should be a professional approach…persistence and a method. Begging after all is not less than a sales or a PR job. Appearance counts what you say counts and so does the expression in the eyes.

Then there are God men (usually blind – in a crude representation of Surdas) and seasoned thieves. Expressionless shifty eyes that are on the lookout of a “suitable opportunity” is how you identify such people.

So much about the people who make out a living at the station. But then the majority is of normal people who are there to take trains to go to another city. Spread out on the floor on bed sheets, in waiting rooms, walking up and down, on food counters and spread eagled on their own luggage. If nothing else they all share 2 things in common – the peculiar station smell that wraps them and a desire to get away from the station as soon as possible Some talk, some read and listen to music some stare and some just sit back and watch…like me :)