Chai Garam Chai.

मंज़िले रुस्वा हैं 

खोया हैं रास्ता 

आये ले जाए 

इतनी से हैं इल्तिजा 

यह मेरी ज़मानत हैं 

तू मेरी अमानत हैं 

मुझको इरादे दे 

कस्मे दे 

वादे दे 

मेरी दुआओं 

के इशारों को सहारे दे 

दिल को ठिकाना दे 

नए बहाने दे 

ख्वाबों की बारिशों को

मौसम के पैमाने दे 

अपनी करम 

की कर अदाएं 

कर ले इधर 

भी तू निगाहें 

सुन रहा हैं ना तू 

रो रही हूँ मैं 

सुन रहा हैं ना तू 

क्यों रो रही हूँ मैं

I love train journeys. Second only to road journeys. It's really one of the best ways to see India. As the train traverses the changing landscapes, you discover the multiple hues of this beautiful country. Depending on where in the country you are, the view outside your windows changes from dense forests to plain green fields to desert brown terrain to bright yellow of the mustard fields that stretch as far as your eyes can see. As a child, our family would always invariably take the train to go home to Coorg to visit our grandparents. Depending on where dad was posted, the journey could take anywhere from 1 day to 2 days to 3 days. I love long journeys. There’s something about them that I find comfort in. Like this suspension between where you were and where you will be, makes you free. Free from the burden or the modern day necessity of always be doing something. In those days, you didn’t have smart phones with unlimited data to keep you entertained. For those three days, your company would be your family and at most the music that your walkman played. Oh, and of course the comic books that you bought from the train station. My favorite time of the day in these long journeys were tea time. I think my love for tea started back then. A tea seller walking past shouting "Chai Garam Chai" was music to my ears. This isn’t my story, I’m sure everyone who grew up in the 90s in India and traveled by train for days at a stretch have had similar experiences.

Anytime i travel by train now, these images of my childhood fills my mind, taking me back to those days when communication was not via Whatsapp or Snapchat but actual people talking to each other, live. The most interesting and entertaining part about train journeys are the people travelling with you. I remember long back, when I was travelling alone on a train, there was a big group of ladies travelling with me, going for a school reunion and their chatter ensured that I had entertainment throughout the journey. It was beautiful how after all those years (Batch of 1983 - i was not snooping, they were just so loud!) they seemed to connect with each other. You know what i miss about India, it’s that chatter. This proof of life, of happiness, of agony, of shock or excitement. Anything. Just people interacting with each other. Yes, that’s what I miss about India. Every time I take the train to get home after work in the evenings in Singapore, I look around and see people with their heads hung low, concentrating on their mobile devices, watching movies or TV shows and many a times, I have had the urge to break into an impromptu dance, Bollywood of course, just to get a reaction out of the robots that I am sharing a journey with. The inaneness of that train ride gets to me, so much so that the minute I get to my stop, i want to run out of the station, out of the mall (that are so synonymous with Singapore), out into the open.

I’ve been wanting to write, but don’t know what to. This writer’s block hasn’t worn off despite my many attempts. Although I’ve written about my yoga retreat experience recently, i still feel as though, i have so much to say, but don’t know how to say it. The retreat post was relatively easy, because it was writing about a trip, something that happened in flesh and blood. Also because it was so fresh in my memory and maybe also because it had such a  profound impact on me. Leaving meat. And me. Karma catching up for all the times I lamented about vegetarians missing “the most important thing about life : good food”. Sigh.

So this thing that I’ve wanted to write about is a story. A story that is spread across the vast plains of my mind. If I imagine myself to be on a train, this story is just like the view outside my window. I know it’s there, I can feel it, but the minute I come close to putting it down in words, it slips away from me. There’s a boy in these fields. I can see him. I can feel him. I want to get to him to know his story, but he evades me. Not today. Today I will share his story.

His hands reached for his phone. The alarm was blaring away at 6 AM on a Saturday morning. His otherwise strong everyday resolve of waking up in the morning to go for a run and start his day by being active, would invariably falter on weekends. Saturday and Sunday were for rest.

So he quietened the small voice in his head, that would usually work on weekdays and turned sides to sleep on his right. When the curtains couldn’t contain the summer sunlight anymore, he woke up and checked his phone for the time. 8:30 AM. Ok, that seemed a more humane time to wake up on a Saturday. A cup of chai with the newspaper and he settled down on his favorite spot on the couch to enjoy the simplicity of his weekend mornings. The newspapers were full of elections news. Exciting times in India. Exit polls were predicting what everyone (even those who dreaded it) knew in their hearts. Times were a-changing. He laps up all the interesting theories intellectuals (and psuedo intellectuals) talk about in the Op-ed columns. He was reading a story about how social media changed the face of the Indian geenral elections this year when the doorbell rang. The maid was here.

There were no major plans for today. Brunch with a few friends and then a movie in the evening with his sister and dinner someplace. And then maybe plans post dinner with other friends who were visiting. His other favorite channel to surf for other news from all around the world, was Twitter. As he was scrolling and reading, his phone starts buzzing, Akshay was calling. They discuss brunch plans, and what time to meet. It was 10 AM, he still had an hour to start getting ready. The maid is still cleaning, so he can’t walk around too much. He goes to the kitchen and makes himself another cup of chai and walks to his balcony. It wasn’t too hot today, maybe the rains that washed the city yesterday helped bring down temperatures. The sun was warm and not hot, it felt nice against his body. He leaned against the railing and looked ahead. And suddenly he feels a sense of deja vu, like he has been here before. That feeling then gave way to a sense of anxiety. Almost like your inner self know that something is going to happen. He continued to stand there, exectly the same way, with his black mug of chai in his hand, waiting for this feeling to disappear. It didn’t. So he closed his eyes and started breathing slowly and consciously.

He didn’t know how long he was standing there when the maid called out to him. He turned, his tea had gone cold. “What happened” he asked her, ‘I’ve been calling out to you for the last 5 minutes, are you ok. I am done for the day, shall i leave?”, she asked. How did he not hear her? How long had he been standing here for? He apologises to the maid and thanks her for coming. It’s close to 11 AM. Just how long had he been out there for, he wonders again. He reheats his tea in the microwave and walks to his room to pick out his clothes for the day.

He opens his laptop, and chooses a random playlist and hits play. Something about that song doesn’t seem right, so he pauses it, sips his chai to try and figure what kind of a mood he is in and what song he wants to listen to. After 3 sips and no answer, he starts the radio and is pleased with what they’re playing. He likes the chatter of the RJs anyway, doesn’t seem like he is all alone in this house. Few more sips, he keeps his empty mug down. A maroon polo shirt and his favorite jeans are lying on the bed. He goes in for a shower, gets ready and smiles when the RJ says something hilarious, checks his wallet and phone, picks up his car keys and shuts the radio.

Brunch at their regular place was always fun. The cricket season was on, sports, food and beer, what else do boys need. After a leisurely brunch, everyone is sitting back, talking small-talk and he is hit with this feeling of something is about to happen, again. He looks around, just doesnt know what or who he is looking for. A waiter walks up to him, thinking he needs something, he smiles and thanks him and says he is ok. What’s happening to him today. Is this what they call instinct? What was it trying to tell him? There’s a huge roar and he wakes up from his day dream, some wicket just fell and the entire place just erupted. The home team was almost on the verge of a win. He had had just two beers and wasn’t drinking more. He had a movie to go for with his sister, so he wasn't drinking more.

After the match and the impressive win was over, everyone bid each other adieu and made plans to meet around 10:30 PM to hangout with their friend who was in town from the US. He drove to the other end of the city to pick up his sister from her hostel and they drove towards the movie theatre. This weekend movie ritual was something he did reluctantly initially, only because his parents insisted on it. But now he had come to look forward to it. And so did his sister. He asked about her studies, her friends, boyfriend, life in general. She noticed that there was something off in his usual cheerful demeanour. He seemed to get lost while driving, the crazy traffic that usually bothered him, wasn’t affecting him today. She stared at him for sometime, and he felt her gaze. “What’s up” he asked, "All ok with you, anything you want to talk about?” she asked. He never answered, they had reached the movie theatre and he was looking out for a parking spot, mumbling to himself about which one he ought to take.

After the movie, as they sat in the car to drive out, he felt the now familiar sense of someone around him, he looked around again, outside the window, craning his neck to look back more. His sister asked if he had left anything behind and he shook his head and said no, was just looking behing to reverse. “But you haven’t started the car yet” she said, “Oh yes,” and he laughed. He tried to divert her mind from his behaviour and started discussing the movie. They stopped a little ahead at a red light, this long stretch of road was always crowded at this time of the day and it will take them 20 minutes easily to reach the circle ahead.

An Indica cab had pulled up right next to his car. He didn’t take much notice, he had gone back to his reflective self, his sister was talking about something and he wasn’t even here, or listening to her, he was staring straight ahead. A girl in this Indica was also involved in an animated discussion with her cab driver, about how the city has changed since she last visited, when was the metro construction projected to be complete? What were people feeling about the recently concluded general elections, who does he think will come to power? She turned right and saw a boy and a girl in the car next to them. She looked back at her driver. And then her heart stopped, or skipped a beat as they would say. She slowly willed herself to look right again, and she saw him. He was looking ahead. Would he see her? What was he thinking, he seemed to be lost in thought. The traffic inched forward, he moved and so did her car. He had a slight smile on his face. But why was he pursing his lips like that, was he sad? Was he happy? She continued to stare at him, her driver was talking about who he voted for and why, but she was in another world. She wanted him to look at her, but at the same time, didn’t want him to as well. Just so that she could look at him all she wants without being discovered. In that one minute, the mind was not thinking, it had stopped. The heart had taken over, and was doing what it was best at doing, satisfying itself with everything that makes it feel and come alive - whether happy or sad. And then she started thinking. She shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn't see her and she shouldn’t feel this way on seeing him, almost as if some fire in her had been calmed and doused. But she was unable to pull her eyes away and then he turned. The feeling was too intense now and he had to look around to try and see what he was searching for. When his eyes found hers, everything else around him, his sisters voice, the traffic jam around the movie theater, the millions of cars and scooters honking, the children banging on his window trying to sell their wares, the faint sound of the RJ speaking on the car radio, just absolutely everything around him died. There in that moment, in this busy everyday bustle of India, their eyes held each others and wished time never passed.

But it did. The lights turned green ahead and the traffic started moving, her car pulled ahead and he saw her smile, her faint smile, as he sat there, with his hands on the steering wheel, his heart finally having found what it was searching for the whole day. 

Let me now go make myself a cup of chai.