Life Is A Journey

Once an old lady of 72 years boarded a train without knowing its name and number. It was a summer afternoon. Her perspiration dropped from all over her face. The old lady's tiny eyes were searching for a seat. She was breathing fast as her bag was big. Seeing an empty seat in the sleeper class, immediately she occupied it. Within a few minutes of her arrival, she made four young friends. She cracked joke and laughed louder with them in frenzy. The ambiance was jovial and fully charged as if they were all kids. They bonded with each other so well that the lady offered them her home cooked food. She laughed when they laughed; she giggled when they giggled; and even they danced to Hindi songs. The train left the station amidst such bonhomie between the grand old age and the budding youth.

As the summer afternoon progressed, the heat and humidity became unbearable. Yet, there were joyful moment too. Most often the boys laughed loudly clapping each other’s palms. Like a joker the lady’s facial expressions were funny. Her toothless mouth opened wider as she smiled heartily. Her wrinkled face had many layers, decorated with the black spots and moles as the proof of her age. Her flow was suddenly paused by a middle aged fat man’s arrival. He brought two coolies with himself. Both carried ten bags on their heads and shoulders. The merry atmosphere of the bogey suddenly became undesirably silent. The man showed his ticket. The old lady smiled and rose from her seat with her bag and started dragging it. The four boys tried to stop her but she was hesitant. She told that her time with them was over and now she must move on. Like zephyr of the autumn evening, she came and went.       

 

She found another vacant seat in the next coach. She settled herself comfortably there. Her new neighbors were five male members of one family. Their gloomy faces and tonsured heads were enough for her to learn that they were returning from Allahbad after completing their last rites of a near one. She wanted to speak to the youngest one who was looking at her face. Occasionally she smiled and poked him with her fingers but he sat gazing through the window without any reactions. The world outside was invisible as the dust of dusk was raising high from the dusty wheels and settled in the dark. Only the distant lights were twinkling like winter stars. The lady pinched the unresponsive man a little harder. He looked back to stop her but she giggled at his response. The other four men were lying on their seats and were busy with their mobile phones.

She asked him, “Beta, Who died in your family?” The man replied reluctantly, “My father. He suffered a heart attack and collapsed. We could not even take him to the hospital.” She felt very bad, “Oh, no, I am so sorry for that, May god gives you all the courage and strength to overcome the loss!” When tragedy strikes dramatically in the form of death of near ones then the lives of all familial relations of the deceased stand on the slippery ground of destiny. At such hard times, all odds appear as oddities of life. Time cannot repair the loss of a gone one but in all acts of living, there are smaller destinies that control the greater relations of life through which all are connected. She consoled him, “We are all slaves of our destinies!” The young man disagreed with her, “Our destinies are in our own hands, most of us are hypocrites, we fail to accept the realities as it is. We live our life unnaturally artificial and as mimetic artists, we live for others, but not for our real self.” His words contained elderly wisdom that changed the facial expression of the lady. She stopped smiling and bore a grave look. Now, he felt comfortable with her seriousness.

Their train picked up the pace and the trains on the side parallel tracks sped fast like burning stars. The noise of the engine was harshly unpleasant. Both looked at each other’s face but the shaking seats prevented them to continue their talk further. A few minutes later, it slowed. The man smiled and said, “Amma, You remained silent. Have I told anything wrong?” She smiled back, “No, No, Beta, the train was noisy. Now, it is audible.” The man continued with his thoughts, “My father was a drunkard. He was hospitalized for three months and finally, the doctors gave up. You see, they are my four uncles. My father was the eldest.” He tried to justify his thoughts.

The lady nodded her head and said, “Oh, he was a victim of his bad habit!” The man strongly reacted, “No, No, Amma, You are wrong. He was not a victim of his bad habit rather a culprit of my entire family.” The lady asked, “But, How?”He continued, “He never spoke to me in the last 5 years. I left home to complete my education and did not return for 5 years. After his death only I have returned. He made our lives hell!” The old lady did want to answer him as he appeared unrealistically harsh. She believed that the departure of a person from this world redeems his sins and after he is gone, measuring his familial virtues and vices on the scale of homely duty is like quarreling between two hungry men whose food is already taken away by another.

She wanted to hear more from the young man. After many years, she had found a man who reminded her of her young days when she sermonized on life and living to even her elders. She had seen all of this. But, their talk was halted by one of his uncle’s intervention. The uncle objected, “How can you blame my big brother for everything? He was a noble soul. He cared for us just like his children.” The young man disagreed with his observations, “I respect your thoughts but he has spoiled my life and my mother’s and sister’s as well.” The lady felt uncomfortable as she sensed a loud showdown between them. She pacified, “Let’s not discuss it. It’s dinner time. Come down, call your brothers, Let’s have dinner together!” All of them could not say no to her affectionate instruction. They shared their foods with each other and again lied on their seats.   

The lights were turned off at 11 pm and everybody was getting ready to sleep except the old lady. She sat comfortably and murmured some old songs. Her old melodious voice soothed the man; it was like lullabies that her mother sang before he went to sleep when he was a child. Those were so beautiful days; he had only the memories of his early school days. In every night, first his mother would pull his ear on the bed but when it did not mend him, she would sing a lovely lullaby that sailed him to the world of sleep. The old lady stopped singing after a lady requested her to vacate her reserved seat. She smiled and rose with her bag. She started dragging it to move to the next coach. The young man was still awake. He looked down to help her but he was helpless.

The man tried to sleep and could not. The lively face of the lady kept his eyes wide open. She preoccupied his stream of thoughts. More he tried to distance her, more she got closer and closer to his thoughts. A few hours passed but he was only changing sides on the seat. At around 3 am, he climbed down from his seat and started searching the old lady. He searched every seat of six bogeys but she was nowhere to be seen. Then, she stopped a TT and inquired about her by giving the details about her physical descriptions.

The TT was happy to reply, “O that Amma, who has lost all her family members in a train accident before 10 years. Almost every day, I see her. We do not charge any money from her. Everyone, in the railways, knows her. She loves to live in a moving train. She meets people, greets them with her smiles, and offers them her home-cooked foods. She is alone but not lonely; she has none but is loved by many; she has lost everything but finds new happiness in every moment of her life.” Now, he must find her and started walking fast in the train.