Sometimes, an event leaves a scar in our heart, even though we were no way connected to it. Being an on-looker in itself is sin enough for our heart to keep repenting and remembering it again and again, with all the pain and sadness. And also, with a frustration that we have only been onlooker and were not able to do anything about it. Like the plight of the little girl on the train, who could not have been much older than my elder daughter.
A couple of months ago, my wife and I were travelling from Chennai to Salem in the West Coast express. We were a little early (surprisingly so!!) and had settled in our side berths in the 3 tier A/C compartment. Our daughters (7 & 12 years old) where at my in-law’s place in Namakkal, a small, industrious town near Salem. They had been there on vacation for the past ten days. We were travelling to spend a couple of days in Namakkal and return back with our kids. My wife, who had not spent more than a couple of days away from my daughters prior to this, was very anxious to get there and embrace them. Naturally, the conversation was all around our kids and she was wondering whether they would have grown up and all, as if she was going to meet them after 10 months and not 10 days!!
Just as the dialogue was starting to turn into a monologue by my wife, in marched a family of five, two over fed boys leading the march followed by equally overfed parents, the lady carrying an infant, probably 6 months old. They were speaking a language that I could understand nothing off. The boys were noisy and had a smug, arrogant look. The man, whose T-Shirt had almost turned to a transparent clothing due to extreme stretching to accommodate one of the largest bellies I have ever seen, wore a disinterested look, not minding what the kids did or what his wife had to say. This lack of interest didn’t seem to deter his wife who was continuously rattling something. Most women do have this gift, the ability to keep talking, whether any one listens or not. She too was dressed in a tight fitting slawar, her body filling all the contours of the dress like a fully blown air doll.
As the tight fitting family fitted themselves tightly in the coupe adjacent to ours, we became aware of the sixth member of the troupe, a skimpy, shrunken girl kid dressed in what was probably a hand me down skirt and a boys shirt. By her size, she looked as if she might be a year younger to my elder daughter, but her face was that of a mid-teen, which she probably was. She was carrying a huge shoulder bag and tugging along a heavy suite case. The man grabbed the suitcase from her and shoved it under the seat. I was watching all this with great interest when there was a metallic rap on my knee. My wife was holding a metal spoon, testing my reflexes with its handle and giving me a disapproving look. ‘You cannot keep staring at them’, she hissed reminding me of the manners that I didn’t claim to possess. I was not sure whether the rap was for my lack of manners or for my distraction away from her monologue. Unlike the lady and most other women, my wife needs an astute listener to keep rambling. I mumbled something and hid behind a magazine I had bought in the platform. My wife, realizing the futility of her efforts, opened a magazine of her own and submerged into it.
The train started chugging and half an hour had passed when I was pulled out of my forced magazine reading by a sharp cry from the infant which was shrill enough to be heard over the lady’s monotonous drone. I saw the girl was still standing and carrying the bag on her shoulder. The lady yelped a sharp command, the girl flustered around the bag and pulled out the feeding bottle for the infant. The lady tore the bottle from the girls hand with a fierce look and thrust the bottle to the baby’s crying lips. The baby was immediately at peace, while the lady was still far from it. She was muttering, what I could infer from the tone, expletives at the girl child for her lack of responsiveness?? The poor girl looked forlorn and distant. She seemed to be accustomed to this treatment. Once the baby was done feeding, another sharp command from the lady had the girl grabbing the feeding bottle and running to the wash basin to wash it. Even before, she could return, the lady started yelling for her as the infant had soiled her diapers. After a couple more sharp retorts and the girl having cleaned the baby, thrown away the soiled diaper and freshly changed a new one, the lady turned back to her half asleep husband to begin her rambling from where she left. The girl resumed her standing position with the bag back on her shoulder.
My wife and I could only see our own daughter in her place and were thinking how disparate the world is. We joined the two seats to form the sleeper on the side lower berth and made some space so that the girl can sit. We asked her to sit down, which she did after lot of hesitancy. In just a couple of minutes, her eyes shut and she began to sleep. She would have slept for 20 minutes, when another shout from the lady brought her out of her slumber in a jitter. This was for her to go and call the samosa wala, who had just passed by. The whole family had a round of samosas without offering any to the girl and worse, she was handed over all the soiled paper plates to go and dispose off. The girl duly did as told and went back to standing. The lady and her family did not even acknowledge the girls presence when she was not needed. The kids hardly talked to her. The ordeal of having to watch all this came to an end when the train stopped at Katpadi and the family disembarked, with the girl carrying the shoulder bag and tugging the heavy suitcase.
If this was the treatment meted out in public, I shudder to imagine the plight of the girl when she is with them in private. My wife was totally shaken up by this experience. She kept relating the girl to our daughter. A kind of gloom and sadness descended on us for the rest of the journey and we could not think of anything else. Today, even after a couple of months, this memory comes back to haunt me very often. Is there anything that I could have done? I am not sure. Ideally yes but practically, not much. I only hope I inculcate in my kids the respect for the dignity of other fellow human beings, whatever strata of the society they belong to. There sure are many more such girls in far worse situations which I am blissfully unaware off. The least I can do for them is to lament on this blog.
Arun Athiappan's Blog 