The Thrust To Keep Moving

Stories run all around us. Events take place in our vicinity in the form of short stories every minute. Some of them are so intriguing that it makes one capture them on pen and paper.
Trains run in India as nerves run through human body, both hold similar importance as well. A train journey portrays life running through this diverse country. While moving through a train one could easily relate oneself to some or the other people present around.
Entering a railway station would give you a sense of constant activities and chaos. On one such hot summer day, I entered the bogie of a local train for a 2 hour journey from Kolkata to Kharagpur. On entering, I met an unusual scene of a small girl may be 10-12 years old being hammered by a woman with a steel plate. It was easily recognized that they were beggars and the girl was probably the woman's daughter. I was able to locate another family member near them a 4-5 year old boy. The minor with a face laden in dust and dirt was lying on the floor of the bogie; mother and the daughter seemed no better.
The beating process continued and was now accomplished with a cacophonous criticism by the woman in an language alien to me. This all had already created a scene in the bogie. People on public transport are always hunting for topics to talk about. It helps kill time in the taxing travel of the hot and humid weather. I could hear people anticipating as to what could have been the reason for this mess. Some said that the girl was not obeying her mother as she refused to beg, others were of the view that the girl mishandled her younger brother. Whatever the reason might have been, the frustration and anger of the women was dominant in her sulking eyes. The girl was in a position with both her hands and even knees in front of her face as a mark of defense.
Meanwhile, a person came into the scene and tried to stop the women. He was a fruit seller as gave an impression that he knew the women. The fruit seller could speak the same alien language that the women spoke. The women raised her hands to show a half-baked chapati and an onion to the fruit seller, may be that was a part of story she wanted to depict. The girl sat at one of the corners of the bogie compressing her body to the minimum possible size and hiding her face. I was wandering whether the girl was hiding from her mother, the by passers or herself. Mother had attained a silent mood by now. Frustration which was seen in her pale yellow-reddish eyes now turned to a wet guilt. The minor boy touched her sister’s curly rope like hair and then went crawling to her mother and back to her sister. May be he was trying to make a settlement in his own little way, difficult to decipher for the grown-ups.
My fellow passengers again started talking about what just happened. An elderly man said that the women should stop begging and look for some work to feed her children, others were of the view that forcing a minor girl into begging was a crime. I was wondering how India never fell short of people and opinions. This thought gave me a moment of laughter with myself. On the other side the three family members were quiet taking their own time to pacify themselves, completely unaware that the big discussion going on was about them.
Just like other things in life my 2 hour journey also came to an end. After enjoying a quick 20 minutes nap I woke when the train was about to enter the railway platform. A girl came up to the man sitting in front of me saying give me a rupee dada, give me a rupee dada. She was the same beggar girl but this time her face had a smile and much enthusiasm. The girl held her brother with her right hand and shoulder while the left hand was playing a damaru. She was singing the latest Bollywood Hindi songs making every possible mistake in the lyrics. The voice was loud and clear enough to be heard by every single person in the bogie. Fresh red scratches on her face were still easily recognizable. I like to believe that she was not begging rather asking for money in lieu of the entertainment provided by her song and music. When all one is bothered about is survival and food, emotions hold little importance. This pursue for survival imbibes a sense to keep moving on which is otherwise difficult to learn.