Last week I traveled in a train from Howrah railway station in Kolkata to Jajpur Keonjhar Road railway station to visit my parents. It happened that I was in Kolkata to participate in a conference on Protests at Maulana Abul Kalam Azad Institute of Asian Studies, a well known institute under India’s Ministry of Culture. After the conference I took a taxi to the station. I missed the East Coast Express, and boarded the Jan Shatabdi Express at 1:25 PM. Throughout the journey, which took sharp five hours I interacted with Odia co-passengers non-stop. We reflected on many issues, ranging from politics to economics to philosophy. Modi was a hot subject. We also focused on Indian economy, how salaries are going up, but with little significance as inflation is high.
While chatting I was also looking through the windows. The vast landscape of Bengal and Odisha captivated me, and made me nostalgic. To be nostalgic is perhaps one of my few weaknesses, which I do not dislike much. At Kharagpur, vendors with tea, local-made chocolates with big offers, and groundnuts came in. Some of the passengers made business with them, while I was continuing chatting with a co-passenger. What disheartened me was the sight of two children, perhaps brother and sister, entering the train and stopping in the middle of the coach to perform before the passengers so that they can get some money. The girl must be around 3 or 4 years, and the boy 7 or 8 years. I lamented that I could not do much except offering some money or indulging in pity that the world is so harsh. The train crossed Kharagpur, then Subarnarekha and Budhabalanga rivers, and local towns Jaleswar and Balasore.
The passengers were also interested in my experience in America, the lifestyle there, and what the people and the leaders there think about India. I was not interested to go deep into these subjects as I was more interested to know more about Odisha, the current developments in the state and in India. After brief engagement on these issues, we again came back to our usual chat.
As I was turning my gaze around, I found litter under seats. There were banana skins, chocolate and biscuit rappers, polythene bags and used tea cups. I raised the issue of cleanliness and hygiene while referring to the prime minister’s Swachh Bharat (clean India) campaign. We had a long and winding discussion. We also expressed our commitment to a clean India. I talked about America and Europe and how the cities there are clean. We also discussed how the educated Indians indulge in littering in the public places. We agreed that we Indians are selfish and while keeping our houses clean, we do not mind throwing garbage outside our houses. This reflected the lack of citizenship, lack of civic culture and social engagement. One of my co-passengers mentioned the saying ‘sarkar ka maal, dariya mein daal’. It implies lack of concern for public goods. It also implies a cavalier attitude towards public places.
As the train was chugging ahead and our discussion on clean India was getting momentum, I finished my tea. As I was looking for trash can to throw the used cup, one co-passenger pointed his finger down at a garbage heap and suggested I should throw the cup there. I felt tempted. He said, ‘you are in India, and in India behave as an Indian.’ It implied that I may follow rules of cleanliness and hygiene while abroad, but it does not make a big issue if I put a small cup under the seat. I was hesitant. I did not argue. I took the cup and searched for trash can which I found at the entrance, and threw the cup inside after sliding its cover open. The co-passenger did not say anything, but understood my message that I am determined to follow the principles of cleanliness whether abroad or in India.
As we were continuing our discussion loudly, I noticed many missing trays behinds the seats. There were few trays. One can notice that there are holes in the back of the seats as markers of places for knots and bolts for the trays. I asked the reason to one of my co-passengers, who claimed to travel on the same route for 26 years. He does a job of supplier, based in Bhubaneswar, but regularly travels to Kolkata in relation to his job. He is a regular traveler in this train since it started running. To my almost naïve question whether the train was like this since the beginning, he replied with a cool demeanor that the train was one of the best trains on the route. Everything was in perfect shape. Gradually people started sitting their kids on these trays. Satire filled his voice when he said, “the rich kids started sitting on these trays first. When the rich parents started sitting their babies on these trays, people started clapping, laughing in support saying, O’ look at the baby, how cute! How he is smiling, playing! But, nobody looked at those crying trays, which creaked and cracked.”
He further said, “But, when poor parents started sitting their children, people cautioned that the fragile trays will crack.” His anger at the rich, and sympathy for the poor, notwithstanding, his reasoning appeared sound. The trays were misused. Another co-passenger said, the trays served really well, we could eat on them, could keep small stuff on them, could keep tea and coffee on them. But now there are no trays. To my query, what happened to those broken trays, the old passenger said, the people took away the broken trays to their homes. Another passenger commented, people would love to loosen a knot further instead of tightening it. Most of the trays vanished, and the few remaining seem following the same path. The fragile trays gave a message: the Indian train, carrier of millions of people every day, is in shambles and crying for help.
I had very nice exchanges with some other co-passengers. I thought about a picture of life and world. I knew that I will perhaps never meet these people in life, but I also knew I had some of the finest exchanges with the people in the train. The exchanges were open, straight from heart. Five hours passed. I felt jealous of time as my journey ended. I reached the destination. As I came out of the station, my younger brother was there to welcome me.
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