Train Thrill

I had not taken a suburban train in the last 10 years and the idea was as enticing as a plate of jalebis to me. It was a warm Saturday morning and I set off on my trip to visit our appartment-in-making at Pallavaram. I rode my bike to Guindy and parked it at the shed next to the station. I then paid five buks to a sleepy pair of eyes to watch over my priced two-wheeler and went in search of the ticket counter.

There were three counters and almost all of them were nearly empty. A ticket to Pallavaram costed me four rupees. I slipped the ticket into my pocket and walked through a reception of beggars to reach the platform. It was just a few minutes wait until I heard the thundering iron boxes screeching to a halt before me.

I hopped onto the bogie before me and found a seat next to a young couple. As the train started to move, I plugged my ears to listen to an audio book on my ipod. A few minutes later I could hear some simple rhythm. It had nothing to do with the audio book I was listening to. Ah! there they were - mobile jukeboxes. A mother and her daughter had decided to entertain us with a song in Telugu, two pieces of broken tiles for the metronome. I quickly reached out for my wallet and drew a rupee coin, knowing what was coming up.

The singing sensations hadn't finished the first stanza in their cacophonic recital and the little girl raised her arm in style to ask for tips from the passengers. One rupee and some pity were all that I could spare.

- more to come