I walked to the railway station and bought my ticket to Bangalore. The station was unusually crowded. I looked around trying to figure out why there are so much of people. I asked the porter who was standing near the gate
“chetta What train are all these people waiting for?”
“Where are you going?” He asked me
I wondered if this is a Malayalee disease. Ask any Malayalee a question and they would answer with another question.
“Bangalore” I replied
“Oh! Koche (daughter) go home and come back in the evening. All trains are delayed. Some goods train was derailed near Ernakulam last night, they are still clearing it. I think Island express would be minimum 4 hour late!”
“Oh”
That simply meant I have two choices, go back home with my tail rolled in to a tiny knot and hidden between my legs and face Amma or stay at the railway staion for 10 long hours.
I walked towards the platform
“Koche (daughter) Where are you going? You are wasting your time. Go home, eat a nice lunch and come back later in the evening” I heard the porter calling after me. I turned and smiled at him and spoke
“Chetta I am just going to the magazine shop downstairs to buy some magazines, then I will go home”
“Oh” He replied
There were so many people on the platform. Some of them were even sitting on the steps leading to the platform.
Coffee and tea sellers were Shouting
“Coffee Coffee, Chaya, Chaya Chaya, Choodu Chaya(hot tea)” holding their aluminium dispensing cans and weaving in and out through the crowd. Looking at the crowd, I was sure the sellers would make today, what they would normally earn in a month.They are lucky I thought. Atleast they started their new year well.
“chaya veno?( do you want tea?)” One young boy holding a small can asked me. He had a sweet smile on his face. He must be about 7 years old. He was wearing a white shirt and Khaki shorts. That must be his school uniform
“No” I answered. I wanted to buy some magazines more than tea. I watched the smile on his face disappearing.
“Tell you what, I don’t want to drink tea right now. But later I really want to drink some tea. Make sure, you save a glass of tea for me, Ok?” I smiled and asked him
“Ok. Chechy(sister)” The smile was back on his face. How easy it is to make a child smile?

I walked to the magazine shop. Most of the magazines were sold out. The magazine shop owner too started his New year’s day well, so I thought.
I looked at the display cabinet. I have read most of the novels the seller had, but one book caught my attention.
Bhagavad Gita translation in english. I thought of Ammachi.
“Do you have the same book in Malayalam?” I asked the shop owner
“No, Only this” He sounded too grumpy.
“I will take this”
I thought I will read it and translate for Ammachi.
“But it is in English” The shop owner was mocking me.
I so very badly wanted to tell him to just shut up and give me the book. But I didn’t want to fight. I took the book and gave him the money and walked away. I heard him speaking to someone else who was standing near the shop
“All these kind are the ash poosh generation. They are all trying to show off, that they can read english. Wasting their parents hard earned money buying expensive books and keeping it as show piece”
I didn’t understand why it is anyone’s business as to what I do with my money. If I want to keep a book as a show piece, then I have the right to do so. It is my money. But then again, that is another Malayalee disease. The community has a collective say in every individuals life. Either you go voluntarily along with the majority or be forced to go along with them. Atleast I was glad he didn’t ask me Why a Suriani Kristiani is reading a Hindu holy text!
I looked around me. All the benches were occupied. Some people were even sitting on top of their bags. I started to walk towards the end of the platform.
“Chechy chaya?(sister do you want tea?)”
“eda kutti koranga(my darling little boy) Didn’t I just tell you 5 minutes ago, I will buy tea from you later?”
The smile on his face vanished again
“Aiyyah, I am taking the Island express, that means I will be here for a long time. I promise, I will only buy tea from you”
“God promise?” He looked at me hopefully
“God promise” I spoke.
The sun was shining bright and it was getting hot by the minute. I found a shady spot at the end of the platform. I placed my bag on the floor and sat on it. Across the other side of the platform I noticed a group of nadodi’s (gypsies) squatting on the floor and talking among themselves. I was so angry to see them there.
I looked around the platform to see where the Railway police are? Lazy fellows! They have been paid by the tax payers to make sure that, people like the nadodi’s (gypsies) don’t camp in public places.
I wanted to complain to the railway police and ask the police to evict the nadodi’s (gypsies). They shouldn’t allow nadodi’s (gypsies) to camp out in a public place like this. It is unhygenic, uncultured and most of all, the gypsies are nuisnace! They are all a bunch of thiefs and liars.
And the worst thing was, I noticed thay they were cooking their food in the platform. There were four small wooden stoves on the platform, each had a small aluminium pot on top. Every few minutes someone would open the lid, check the contents inside and close the pot. Amma once told me that, the gypsies catch rats and pigeons and make soup out of them. I felt sick thinking about rat soup.
I watched the mothers, keeping their daughters on their lap and checking their hair for head lice. They were talking loudly to each other, while plucking the lice out from the matted hair and sqashing it on the floor.
Out of nowhere,One boy, who was comparatively bigger than the rest of them came to the platform rolling cycle tire on the platform by using a stick inside the tyre to keep it rolling. All the kids in the gypsy crowd got up and were following him, begging him for a chance to roll the tyre. The big boy kept running without stopping, soon most of the other kids gave up the chase, all except one little girl. She kept on tugging the bigger boy’s shirt and asking for a turn and in an instant I watched him turning and pushing the girl with all his might and she fell down.
The little girl started to howl.
Her crying sounded exactly like how my sisters cry. A helpless cry from the bottom of her heart.
Some of the women in the gypsy craned their neck to see what is going on. Not one person got up to help her or console her. She was just two train tracks away from me and even I didn’t get up from my cozy spot and help that little child.
What if that was Liza? Wouldn’t I have run to console her?
I felt disgusted with myself when I noticed that I could be nice to a tea seller, yet I judged a gypsy crowd, all because they didn’t fit in to my idea of what is nice and not nice.
It occured to me that, I am just like the gypsies. Just like them,the railway station is the only safe place I know. My father’s money keep me on this side of the platform. It is not my merit that I get three good meals in a day and don’t have to drink rat soup.
Never again, will I judge another person for their material worth.
“chechy, Chaya?(sister do you want tea?)”
I was thirsty. I wanted to drink something cold, like a glass of ice cold lemon juice. But a promise is a promise
“yes, give me one cup”